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with post-care instructions to reduce both self-injury and the risk of miscarriage.

Does it matter? I thought bleakly. A miscarriage would take the decision away from me. It'd be out of my hands.

For now, one tiny problem did present itself: getting home. I was sore and didn't feel like driving. In fact, I'd been advised not to. Jasmine helpfully offered to.

"I know for a fact you don't have a license," I told her. I was leaning against my car, baking in welcome sunshine.

"No, but I can drive. Come on, it's not that far. And you certainly can't. What do you want to do? Call Tim and let him know what's going on?" she challenged.

I wanted my mom, I realized. I wanted my mom to come and drive me home - to her home. I wanted her to take care of me and talk to me like she used to. I wanted her to fix all this.

I blinked rapidly and turned my head, not wanting Jasmine to see me tear up.

"Fine." I held out the keys. "If we get pulled over, the ticket's coming out of your allowance."

To her credit, she drove responsibly, and she was right - it wasn't far. I tilted my seat back slightly, wanting to sleep for the next few days or however long it would take to get back my results. I didn't want to endure the waiting. I couldn't endure the waiting. The car's silence and rhythm nearly took me under until Jasmine spoke.

"So," she said matter-of-factly. "If they're boys, you get an abortion. If they're girls ..."

"Then I don't." I hadn't realized I'd made my decision until that moment. When I'd heard those heartbeats ... well, it didn't matter if motherhood and drastic body changes scared the hell out of me. If I had two daughters, daughters unconnected to any prophecy, I would have them. I'd figure parenting out. "If they're girls, I'll keep them."

She nodded and said nothing more until we were turning down my street. Honestly, I was surprised she waited that long because I'd already known what else she was dying to ask.

"Eugenie?"

"Yes, Jasmine?"

"What are you going to do if one's a boy and one's a girl?"

I stared ahead at my house. I suddenly didn't want to sleep just for the next few days. I wanted to sleep for the next nine months. Or seven months. Or whatever. I didn't answer her question.

"I can't have a son," I said at last. "You know that. That's all there is to it."

Chapter 23

I decided it would be best not to mention the twins thing to Kiyo. As it was, I was having a hard enough time processing it.

Twins.

Twins?

This was the ultimate "when it rains, it pours" cliche. I'd gotten pregnant through an idiotic slip, putting me right in the line of the prophecy I'd tried to avoid for so long. And now, just when I'd managed to coax an early test so I could nip this situation in the bud, I was faced with a potential situation that I never, never could have foreseen.

Kiyo had been right. I should have terminated the pregnancy the instant I found out, before I knew more about it. It was becoming real now. Every detail I learned made it more substantial, giving more life to what I carried within me. It's not too late. You don't have to wait for the results. Maybe it's better if you don't.

I'd boldly told Jasmine that I'd keep the twins if they were girls, but the reality of that was harsh. How would I raise two children? I didn't know if I could handle one. How could I manage motherhood when half my life was spent in another world? How could I even keep working? Would I get a nanny - or force my kids onto someone like Tim or my mom? That latter seemed pretty unlikely. And then, of course, I was faced with the most mundane problem of all.

Money.

"You're going to be in serious trouble if you don't start working again soon," Lara told me the day after I'd seen the doctor. She'd spent the night again and was sitting at my kitchen table with me. In front of her, a laptop showed an array of spreadsheets. "You're still okay ... but it won't last. Part of your money goes into the business's account - the one I'm paid from. The other profits go to your savings. The first one's running pretty low ... and if it goes empty