It was Angela's 19th birthday, but she didn't have any plans to celebrate, really. She'd let herself have a caramel latte at work --- ooh, rebellion -- and was now flopped on her bed, trying to do some reading for her women's lit final
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On the other end, Rayanne was chanting. "PLEASE don't already be gone, Chase. PLEASE be lame."
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"It's a logical assumption," Rickie agreed.
"It so, so is," Rayanne said. "So you've either dropped out, lost your job, gotten arrested, gotten married, or you're pregnant."
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"Oh my god, you are totally kidding, right?" he said, once he could speak again.
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"Nobody" meaning "everyone she had talked to in the last two weeks who had known her for more than a nanosecond."
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Quietly she said, "I think we're keeping it."
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After that, Rayanne didn't say anything. Rickie, though, jumped in.
"That's awesome, babies are such, such a blessing. Do you know what you're gonna call it?" He paused. "I should quit saying it. When are you do?"
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"It -- he or she, sorry -- will get here around Halloween."
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"How are you telling your parents?"
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