"Damnit!" he cursed. The class tittered. "Late again!"

The boy next to Liz leaned over and whispered, "His car must've gotten flooded again."

Liz choked, trying not to laugh. "Alex, shut up! Don't make him any worse than he already is!"

The professor cleared his throat and glared at the giggly students. "You'll be getting your exam scores today. This being a yearlong class, I have attempted to take pity on you and be kind with your scores. However, you make that quite difficult for me."

Alex and Liz winced simultaneously. Professer Wilder pulled a packet of papers from his sopping wet briefcase, and began calling off names. "Aguirre. Anderson. Appleby. Azrael. Baker. Blevins. Brunck. Covarrubias. Damien. Davids. Dumont. Fox."

Liz watched the students receive their exams, one by one, and one by one their shoulders slumped.

"Gruber. Helton. Lea. Lucifer. McCartney. McLaughlin. Neal. Parker."

Liz winced and rose out of her chair. Wilder handed her the paper without looking at her. "Better luck next time, Parker." She looked down at her score. 65. 65? How could she pass this class with a 65? How could she graduate without passing this class? She sank heavily into her chair, tears welling in her eyes. Alex looked at her worriedly.

"Pitcher. Roberts. Sciarani. Spender. Whitman."

Alex got his paper and Liz saw a smile of relief cross his face. She tried to hold back the tears that were welling in her eyes, and the nauseous feeling rising in her stomach. Alex looked over in concern. "Liz, are you all right?"

"No," Liz muttered, feeling bile rise in her throat. Suddenly she knew for certain that she was going to vomit, and she ran toward the bathroom as fast as her legs would carry her. She could hear the shocked silence of the calculus class behind her. She had barely thrown her head over the rum of the toilet when

she began to retch, losing the entire contents of her breakfast into the bowl. She leaned forward, trying not to faint while her stomach twitched spasmodically.

She heard two voices behind her, one male, one female. "Liz, have you got the flu again?" Alex asked as he opened the door. Liz hadn't bothered to latch it.

"No, I could't have, I just --" she began to throw up again. Alex knelt behind her and pulled her hair away from her face.

"Is she going to be okay?" the girl asked, and Liz recognized her as one of the other students of her class. She flushed with embarassment.

"Yeah, Erin, she'll be fine. Tell Wilder I'm taking her home."

The dark-haired girl nodded her assent and left silently. "Well, you shocked the hell out of Wilder,"

Alex said. "I think he thought the exam made you vomit."

Liz coughed, trying not to laugh. She still felt queasy, but she didn't find it likely that she could throw up anymore. There wasn't anything left in her stomach. She sat back on her haunches, allowing Alex to rub her back. "Alex, you're too good to me."

"I know," he said, and this time she did laugh. "Have you been sick in the mornings lately?"

"I know what you're thinking, and no, I'm not pregnant."

"Okay. Just checking. It must have been the fish last night, what do you think?"

Liz wrinkled her nose as he helped her stand. "Don't mention fish to me right now, unless you want me hurling all over your car."

****

"Hello, Mr. Evans," the petite, bleach-blonde, overly permed receptionist purred. Evidently, she was trying to be seductive, but she was failing miserably.

Max ignored her, walking to the elevator and pushing the button for his floor. "Christ," he muttered under his breath. "If that woman gets any sluttier..."

"She might as well start Heidi-Fleissing out of the office," Michael supplied, sticking out his hand to keep the elevator from closing. He was loud enough for the receptionist to hear and she whirled around indignantly, an outraged expression on her face.

"Hi, Tess!" Michael called with a wave as the doors slid shut.

"Michael, you know you shouldn't mess with her. She's the boss's girlfriend."

"What's she going to do? Flail me to death with her fake blond curls? You know she's trying to get in your pants, Maxwell."

"Mine and everyone else's."

"True, oh so true. Too bad the boss doesn't know how well his little mistress gets around."

Max glared at his friend. "You're not going to be the one to tell him, either."

Michael feigned innocence. "Who, me?"

****

At first, Liz had suspected that she was pregnant. She had all the typical signs--dizziness, nausea, weird food cravings. But when she had taken the at-home test, a week ago, it came back negative. She decided it might be a good idea to try again. It had been a little over a month since she'd been with Max, and she had missed her period. How exactly it had all happened, she wasn't sure. Well, of course she *knew*, but it didn't make any sense at all. They had used protection--two forms, in fact.

Of course, she reminded herself, no protection is one hundred percent. Then, almost as an echo, the words of her eighth-grade health teacher came back to her. [i]Except for abstinence![/I]

She pondered the shelf of pregnancy tests in the pharmacy. They were all expensive and she didn't have very much money. How would she be able to afford a baby, if the first test had been wrong? There was just no way. She couldn't...her lip trembled and she bit down on it, hard, willing herself

not to cry. No, this wasn't happening, she wasn't pregnant at 21. The father wasn't gone without a trace. It wasn't possible that this could happen to Liz Parker, class valedictorian, voted most likely to succeed. No one would ever believe it.

Finally, with a bitter laugh, she picked up the one next to the last one she had used. What did it matter, anyway?

****

Back from his lunch break, Max noticed a note on his desk. It was from Leila, the secretary for his area. Max didn't have his own, personal secretary. He was too young, but he was moving up fast. His latest program had been a national best-seller, allowing harried customers to do their tax returns in half the time and at half the price of hiring an accountant.

Boss wants to see you. Hope it's nothing bad, but knowing you, I doubt it.

Leelee

Max smiled. Leila was so sweet. Max and Michael had begun a campaign for her to replace the irritating receptionist, but he doubted it would ever happen. Tess made the boss too happy.

He walked over to the office and knocked lightly on the door. There was no answer. "Damnit," Max sighed.

"He must be at lunch."

Abruptly, there was a soft laugh from inside. It was so low, Max couldn't tell if it was male or female. After all, if Jones was doing something unbecoming of upper-level management, the CEO wouldn't be too happy to hear it. And getting Jones fired was the current dream of everyone in the office. Curiousity piqued, he tried the door.

It was unlocked.

Max opened it slowly, only to be shown a sight he had never wished to see. The receptionist was on top of Jones in his plush leather chair, riding him vigorously. When she saw Max, her eyes widened and she jumped off so fast Max thought she might take Jones's dick with her. She dove behind the desk, apparently digging around for her clothes.

Jones spun around quickly, and Max tried to shut the door when he heard his boss's voice. "Miss Harding, you are dismissed. Mr. Evans, please come in."

Reluctantly, Max walked in, trying not to snicker. Tess hurried past him, her clothes half-undone, not bothering to recover her dignity.

"Mr. Evans, is there some reason you didn't knock?"

"Uh, I did knock, sir. I guess you didn't hear me."

Jones turned red. "Well, uh, I wanted you to know that TaxMaster has surpassed all our expectations. People are still buying the damn thing and it's not even tax season. You're being promoted to the head of this department."

Max was speechless, his mind whirling. This meant he could get away from Jones! He resisted the urge to jump up and down. "Thank you, sir."

"Yes, well, no reason to thank me, Evans. I'm moving up too. Did you hear that our venerable CEO is retiring?"

"Retiring? He's only 33!"

"Well, this is the way things go now, in this fast-paces business. And I'm..." Jones smiled. Max dreaded what he was going to say. "I'm in the running for his spot."

****

Liz looked at the little stick, waiting for the window to show something. She had been more than meticulous about the directions this time. She wanted to know for sure.

She closed her eyes. The little egg timer began to blare. She held up the stick.