"The teachers are already talking about sending him back to seventh grade," Mrs. Martínez said, her skin still greasy from her job at the fast food place on 1st Ave. "The only reason he made it through summer school was your tutoring. Thanks so much for helping him out again." She dragged Carlos into a hug, kissing him on the cheek in a waxy smear of lipstick.

The chemical smell of it turned his stomach, and he held onto his smile through pure strength of will. "It's no problem," he said, patting Luis on the shoulder. "You should get going before you're late."

She glanced at her watch. "I'm working the overnight shift at the hotel. There's a convention in town, so they need more people turning over the rooms and doing laundry." She gathered up her purse and lunch bag. "His sister will pick him up when she gets off work. Remind her to go straight home, okay?"

"Will do, Mrs. M," he said, squeezing Luis' shoulder when the boy opened his mouth. "I'll make sure Letty takes him straight home."

"Thanks." She rushed out with another quick wave, leaving them alone in the tiny apartment.

"I wasn't gonna say nothing," Luis muttered, flopping down on the bed and kicking his feet. "I'm not a stupid baby like Guillermo."

Carlos rolled his eyes, wiping at the dark smear on his cheek. "Where's your homework?"

"In my backpack."

"Go get it, then, lazy." He pulled the rolling chair out of the corner to sit down and then detoured to the refrigerator when his stomach grumbled. He pulled a pack of tamales out and tossed them into the microwave.

That had been the first thing he noticed. He never ate out—who had that kind of money?—so when he'd suddenly been unable to walk past the deli without grabbing a whole bag of tamales, he'd known something was up.

Then the morning sickness had shown up.

"Are you going to go live in a big house like Cinderella?" Luis asked, dragging his backpack over to the bed.

Carlos sighed, resting a hand over the gentle bulge that had become more noticeable in the last two weeks. Thankfully, the seasons were changing, and if he could just make it to October, he'd be able to justify wearing a hoodie all the time. "No."

After the initial panic faded, he'd been calm, happy, even.

"Why not?"

That was the question, wasn't it? How did he explain to a twelve-year-old that the arrangement he had with Teddy didn't cover commitment? He'd been very clear about that each time Teddy asked him to dinner. He could take care of himself, and he didn't need anyone setting him up with a little apartment where nobody would see.

"Because."

The kids had been the first ones to notice, their eye level being so much lower than the adults. He'd been terrified one of them was going to say something, but these weren't sheltered little purebreds. These kids had the street smarts to keep their mouths shut.

"Is your baby going to go away like Elena's baby did?" he asked, spreading papers out across the bed. "I hate math."

Wincing, Carlos tried to imagine giving the baby up for adoption like some of the other girls in the neighborhood did. He didn't have to imagine the pain that shot through his heart at the very thought. There was always the possibility Teddy would take the baby, like Elena's boyfriend had, but that was even harder to picture.

"You don't hate math," he said, ignoring the question. "You just don't understand it yet."

He hadn't seen Teddy in weeks. Not since the tiny lump below his belly button had gotten big enough to stretch the skin. At first, the alpha texted him every few days, asking how he was. It had taken everything in him not to answer, but eventually the messages stopped coming. He kept the upgraded text plan he'd gotten after that first night, though, just in case.

"I'm pretty sure I'd still hate it, even if I understood it," Luis said, sighing heavily and copying a problem out of the book. "I'm doing everything the book tells me to do, but the answer doesn't come out right."

Carlos laughed. "If the answer doesn't come out right, then you're doing something wrong. That's the nice thing about math. In basketball, you can make the same shot a hundred times, and maybe you only make it...what? Sixty of them?"

Luis snorted. "If I was lucky."

"So in math, if you put the same things in every time, you'll get the same thing out. It's very dependable. You're not paying attention to your order of operations." He leaned over and scribbled a few notes on the page. "Did you forget everything we worked on this summer? Do I need to sing the song again? Don't make me sing the song, man."

"Ugh," Luis grabbed the pillow and wrapped it around his head. "No! I hate that song."

"Then let's finish up your homework so we can talk Letty into taking you for ice cream on the way home." Carlos glared menacingly at him as Luis picked up his pencil.

"Mr. Juan says anybody who gets involved with the people in the big houses is stupid. Is that true?" The kid didn't even look up from carefully marking down the next problem.

Was it stupid? Probably. Work on the Simmons Street project was almost half done. The city was already taking applicants to fill the units before Christmas. Once they hired a different construction group to work on the buildings that weren't already framed, the project sailed along. Teddy would be back with his rich friends in New York by New Year.

He'd be too big to work by then. He was already having trouble keeping up with his schedule as he got his clients' yards ready for the winter, as much as he needed to in this climate. Come spring, he'd be living off his school funds and savings, scrambling to finish his last three classes before the baby came.

Not that he had any idea what he'd do with his degree and a newborn. He'd figure it out when he got there.

Luis groaned. "See, it doesn't work, no matter what I do. That's not even close to the right answer."

Leaning over the bed, Carlos pointed at the formula. "You forgot a step."

"Shit." Luis paused with his eraser held over the paper. "Don't tell my mom I said that."

"Wasn't planning on it." Carlos dragged himself to his feet as his stomach turned over. "I'll be right back. You keep doing your homework."

"Are you going to go puke? Should I hold your hair? I hold María's hair all the time."

He paused in the doorway of the tiny bathroom. "María Cynthia López?"

"No, María Lourdes Jiménez. She's gluten intolerant, but she sneaks empanadas when her mom can't see."

"Oh." His stomach rolled again, and he swallowed hard. "Do your homework."

"Okay, but let me know if you want some help," Luis called as Carlos bent over the toilet.

An interminable time later, he stuck his head into the bathroom. "I finished my homework. I even got the answers right."

Carlos turned his head slowly, relishing the cold porcelain against his sweaty forehead. "Good job," he said, groaning as his stomach cramped again.

"Should I call your mom?" Luis asked, walking in and patting him clumsily on the shoulder. "You look like you drank too much and then ate bad tacos."

"I don't want to know how you know what that looks like," Carlos muttered. "I'm fine. How much longer until Letty gets here?"

"I don't know. She was late yesterday because she keeps hanging around to flirt with the stock boy at the grocery store. Maybe another fifteen minutes?" He shuffled back out the door and returned with a paper towel that he wet in the sink. "Hold still."

Carlos let him wipe the sweat off his face and neck, swished his mouth with the water he handed over, and tried not to laugh when the middle schooler went back to petting his head. It was surprisingly comforting, and laughter made him want to puke.

"I could call the baby's dad for you," Luis said after a moment.

"That's a terrible idea." Carlos ignored the way his skin prickled at the thought of Teddy's warm hands soothing his aches and pains.

"I kind of thought so," Luis said, "but I thought I'd offer."

There was a knock on the door before Carlos could change his mind, and he groaned, hauling himself to his feet. "Letty's here," he said for no reason.

Luis was already shoving his papers into his bag. "Thanks for the help, Carlos. I hope you feel better. If you go live in a big house, just remember I like video games."

"Get out of here, brat," Carlos said, smiling at Letty. She was old enough she hadn't noticed his belly until recently, and he could see her stealing glances at it under his baggy t-shirt. He let her look, hopeful it would make an impression and keep her from making any mistakes, even if he didn't really consider his baby a mistake.

Closing and locking the door, he spread out on the bed with a sigh of relief. One hand cupped the curve of his stomach, and he tried once again to convince himself he should call Teddy.

He spent hours trying to imagine how that conversation would go. He was almost done with his degree, would be done by the time the baby arrived if he worked hard. It wasn't like he was a destitute teenager. He always said he didn't want to get so involved with getting his life in order that he forgot to have a family. It wasn't the perfect time, but if he waited for the perfect time, he'd never get around to it.

The only thing that him worried was Teddy's reaction. Worried was probably the wrong word. Teddy wasn't the type to be cruel. He might be upset about not being told, but Carlos would bet his life on the alpha bending over backward to help any way he could. There were girls in the neighborhood who made their lives taking hush money from the men who got them knocked up. Carlos wasn't about to cause trouble with Teddy's family, and drawing attention to the baby would only make them both miserable.

Still, Teddy deserved to know. He would call tomorrow. It was the last weekend of September, and he knew the Caldwells would be at their beach house.

He must have dozed off because the last rays of sun were shining through the tiny window, reflecting gold off the cracked white counters in the kitchen, when he jerked awake to the sound of his phone ringing.

"Hello?" he mumbled, shoving his hair out of his face. He needed a trim, but he'd been too nervous about running into one of his mother's friends if he went out to get it done.

Spanish cursing echoed across the line, and he was instantly wide awake. "Don't you dare hang up on me, Carlos. Do you think I'm stupid? You don't come by. You don't answer my calls. I had to hear from Mrs. López that you started school already?"

"Sorry, Mamá," he blurted when she paused to take a breath.

"Oh, you're sorry? You're gonna be sorry if you don't get yourself down here right now," she said, her voice hitting that tone that sent instinctive terror curling down his spine.

"Mamá, I've gotta study for my quiz," he said, twisting the sheet around his fingers. "I'll come tomorrow."

"No. You come tonight. You want to study, you study at the table in the kitchen where I can see you. The last time you hid away like this, you got yourself stabbed."

Carlos groaned. "I promise I didn't get stabbed this time, Mamá."

"I don't believe you. You got a black eye? Don't want me to see? You break your arm again? You've done something, m’ijo, and I'm gonna find out what."

"I wasn't fighting," he said. "I swear to God, Mamá, I haven't thrown a punch in months."

"You come down here tonight, or tomorrow I hunt you down and drag you home by your ear," she snapped.

His stomach rumbled, and Carlos grimaced. "Alll right, Mamá. I'll be there in an hour. I love you." Getting to his feet, he was grateful when the rumble turned out to be hunger and not nausea. He grabbed his keys and an oversized jacket with one hand, digging in the fridge for a couple more tamales with the other.

It was tempting to miss the next bus, but even if he put it off for a hundred years, he wasn't going to be any more prepared. He knew if he told her about Teddy and the baby, she'd just worry, but he also knew better than to think he could hide it for very long. Short of moving to Antarctica, she was going to find out.

If she found out from someone else, moving to Antarctica might be his only option.

He was still debating when he huffed and puffed his way up the driveway. "According to the web," he told his belly, "you're not supposed to start strangling me for another three months." He paused by the carriage house to catch his breath. "Of all your Daddy's genes, you had to get the overachieving ones."

Tugging on his jacket to settle it more loosely around his stomach, he glanced up the stairs and sighed. The lights were off, which meant his mother was probably still cleaning up from dinner.

He dragged himself up to the big house, slipping around to the kitchen door. He could see his mother scrubbing angrily at a plate inside, and he took a moment to compose himself. At least here, within earshot of the family, she might not scream at him quite as loudly.

"Hi, Mamá," he said as he pulled the door open. She glared at him, and he ducked his head sheepishly, shuffling into the room. "Sorry I haven't been around much."

She didn't say anything, straightening up and crossing her arms. Hot, soapy water soaked into her sleeves, but she didn't seem to notice.

Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he had to resist the urge to wipe at it. "See, no black eyes." He was aiming for teasing, but the joke fell flat when his voice cracked.

The warm weight of the baby in his midsection grew heavier with every beat of his heart as she continued to stare at him. His throat closed up, and he suddenly wanted to throw himself in his mother's arms and tell her everything. Looking away, he swallowed hard, holding onto his control with a white-knuckled grip.

"Oh, m’ijito...What have you done?"

"Nothing, Mamá. Nothing bad," he corrected himself. "I just..." Words failed him as he lost the battle with tears. "Dammit," he muttered, scrubbing at his cheeks. "Fucking hormones."

"Oh, my God."

He stole a glance at his mother as she gasped, the English words having a different kind of weight in her stiff accent. She was staring at him, at his waist, the lines around her eyes smoothed out by shock.

"I'm pregnant." The words were just there all of a sudden, echoing in the air as they stared at each otherm and he dripped tears all over himself.

It was almost funny how she couldn't decide what emotion to express, joy and concern twisting her face into a muddle of confusion. He could empathize.

"I'm happy about it," he confessed, as if that would help her decide how she felt. "I know you're mad that I'm not married, but it's not like many omegas around here end up with rings on their fingers." And with the Catholic church still refusing to perform marriages for alpha/omega couples, he never expected to have a normal wedding.

She sighed heavily, a smile starting to break out across her face. But you deserve so much better, Carlos."

He laughed, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. "I know, Mamá, but I'm not gonna wait for some guy to come along and give it to me."

"Always such a smart boy," she said, dragging him into a hug. She smelled of dish soap and good, honest sweat. It was the kind of fragrance that would never get a fancy bottle in the department store, but it never failed to make him feel safe and loved.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I'm still...It's a lot to take in," he whispered into her hair.

She didn't ask about the father, although he could see the question in her eyes as she pulled his jacket open. "Look at you," she said instead, pressing a shaking hand to the swell under his t-shirt. "You been to the doctor yet?"

"I had to wait for my student insurance to kick in," he said, tugging the shirt out of the way. "My appointment is next week."

"Good," she said, stroking her fingers feather-light against his skin. "You gotta make sure you take your vitamins, too."

Blinking back tears at the sight of his mother's work-worn hand pressing tenderly against her grandchild, he nodded. "I will, Mamá."

"Theresa, have you seen the... Oh. Excuse me." A well-dressed woman with long, blonde hair paused in the doorway of the kitchen, sweeping them both with a startled look.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Caldwell," Theresa said. She stepped back as he tugged his shirt down, wiping at her eyes. "What did you need?"

"Nothing," she replied. "It's nothing." The click of her heels echoed hollowly as she retreated, and he wondered how neither of them had heard it the first time around.

"I should go see what she's looking for before she tears everything apart." Reluctantly, she turned to go, glancing back at him. "You're going to stay the night?"

"Of course, Mamá," he said, smoothing the shirt over his stomach and letting his hand linger. "Oh." He paused, glancing at the ceiling. "Is Teddy here?"

Her jaw clenched, lips thinning as she followed his glance. "He's out of town. Mr. Caldwell said I didn't have worry about cooking for him this weekend."

Sighing, Carlos leaned against the counter and rubbed a hand through his hair. "All right. Thanks, Mamá. I'm gonna get to work on my homework, okay?"

Her eyes softened as she nodded, her eyes lingering, but eventually she tore herself away.

Splaying his papers across the table, Carlos got to work. He was completely blindsided when she came back less than ten minutes later with her eyes full of furious tears.