A/N: happy pancake day. As the best holiday of the year, I feel the need to upload twice today. Enjoy💕

"So, how was your weekend guys?" Miss Hardy asks, her eyes flirting across from me, to Hendrix, then back again. Neither of us make the first move to answer her. "Come on, you must've done something." She urges.

The silence dwells on. Miss Hardy furrows her brows at the pair of us and with a sigh, she decides to proceed. "I've heard you have a project together. How are you feeling about that?"

I let my eyes graze right over Elijah's relaxed posture, he's eyes dropping as he inhales dramatically. He looks about ready to fall asleep and to that, I almost smile. He apparently thinks this is about as pointless as I do.

"Charlotte," I lift my eyes to meet our counsellors. "You're being awful quiet today. Is there something bothering you?" She probes.

"Nothing Miss. I just don't have anything to talk about." I tell her plainly.

"The idea of these sessions are for the pair of you to communicate and talk about your issues." She informs me. To that, my posture stiffens and I sit upright.

"So why ask about the weekend? The weekend has no relevance. There are no issues from the weekend." Beside me, Elijah glances at me with a raised brow, cynical about my rather emphatic outburst. I've tried to maintain the cool façade, but I'm doing a terrible job.

He doesn't seem at all bothered about the events of this weekend, but I feel awful about them. Nauseous at the mere thought actually. The fact he and I spent nearly all of our night together. The fact we actually laughed together. And the fact he might've had to carry me bridal style out of the house and into a taxi when I blacked out. Judge me on my inability to handle intoxication later - right now, the problem is him.

He should've left me. At the very least, sharpie'd a moustache on my face along with a bifocal. But no - he had to be all gentlemanly and make sure I got home safe and with a face void of marker pen.

Perhaps he can pretend that's insignificant, but to me it isn't. I should say thank you. I mean, that's what polite people do, and I would usually, but it's Hendrix. I'm completely indebted to him for more reasons than one, because I haven't forgotten how he protected me from the searching eyes of Adam either.

"Charlotte?" Miss Harry's voice pulls me free from my thoughts, allowing me to unclench the muscles in my jaw and unravel my knitted brows. "Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Positive." I say when I stand. "I've got to go. School work to do, people to avoid. See ya." I hurry out of the room before she can utter a word and as I walk down the corridor without being chased I can think of only one thing.

Normality. This is more like it.

No more Mr Nice Hendrix with his innocently good intentions. He is a wolf in sheep's clothing and I intend to keep him that way.

~

"There wasn't enough boob-age last year. I'm definitely behind the vote for more boob." Nat tells us as we casually rifle through the racks of Halloween costumes in the party store.

It's Wednesday and now, with completely freedom from the shackles of detention, and my mother going absolutely metal with getting prepared for the baby, I'm more than happy to be searching for our Halloween outfits. After all, it is my favourite holiday of the year; more so when I get to spend it with my favourite people.

The three of us have always dressed the same, sort of like a scary/slutty assemblage. Usually, my suggestions are outvoted yearly, considering I steer more towards the scare factor than the wow factor which both Nat and Lena shun me for, but this year, the pair seem to be taking my opinion into consideration. That is, until Nat votes for more boob-age.

"How about this?" She suggests, showing off an army costume which resembles something more of a cosplay outfit from a porno. Even Alena has the sense to say no, taking it from her hands and hiding it at the back of a shelf.

"Actually, Chaps made quite the good suggestion of going as a Purge group." Lena says, searching through the shelves of fake blood. "I've been pinterest-ing some inspo and I think it could cover both bases." Nat narrows her eyes at Lena but says nothing, allowing her to continue. "I'm thinking, blood and fake weapons to meet the scare requirements, then fishnet tights, lacey bras and oversized shirts to score top marks on the slut-o-meter."

Nat and I exchange looks and both shrug in acceptance not long after. It's certainly a compromise but one I don't mind getting behind. Who can say no to fake blood and plastic weaponry? "Alright, I'm with it." Nat tells her.

Alena gleams and then scoops up an armful of fake blood. "Yey! Even Seb and Owen said they'll come along. They can be like our entourage!" She exclaims excitedly.

For the rest of our outing, we shop all things bloody, slutty, and even treat ourselves to a burger king because Lena's diet starts again tomorrow. Once we're finished, we have everything we need. New heels, white men's shirts, lacey body suits or in Nat's case, lingerie. Then lots of blood, and even masks to complete the illusion of us being super duper scary. I opt for a plastic machete, whereas Nat and Lena are less creative in their murder techniques and buy a gun each. Fake ones, of course.

Lena assures us that the boys are capable of sorting out their own outfits, but I think that's a lie. I have every confidence that at some point, she will drag them both shopping to help them meet the vision she has of us being the best dressed at the party.

See, of us all, Alena is certainly the fashionista. I don't actually think I've seen her wear the same outfit twice. She possess a talent, I call it black magic actually, where she has the capability of dressing up, or dressing down, every single outfit she wears to make it look like something completely new, fit for whatever the occasion throws. That is why she is head of the Halloween committee. Unofficially; it'd be pretty cringey if that was a real thing. So I'm told, anyway.

"Are you ready for the robo-baby?" Nat asks me as we make our way back to her car, bags in hand.

I nod emphatically and twist my lips into a smile, though I'm sure it resembles more of a grimace. "Yes, yes. I should be ready to kill myself any day now!" I chime. This evokes a laugh from the pair of them.

"How's it going to work? Are you moving in together or..." Alena trails. I gawk at her while throwing my bags into the boot of the car.

"No, I don't think a murder scene is the ideal place to raise a child." I retort immaturely.

Hendrix and I managed to have a rather civil conversation on Tuesday during out free period. The pair of us agreed that the baby will spend three weeks living at mine, another three living at his. Regardless, we both need to be prepared to swoop in should there be a family emergency, or the threat of the baby's skull being caved with a hammer. Obviously, when Hendrix suggested that I'd do such, I was quick the threaten him with the same method.

After clarification from Mrs Ford, we are to bring the baby with us to school, allowing them to be charged (ah, parenthood) and ensuring they're fully functional before we take them home on evenings and weekends. Still, we're to have the babies during breaks, lunch, and free periods. I was quick to ask if detention was the exception because I would happily punch Hendrix in the face if it meant that I could have an hour of quiet every afternoon Monday through Friday, but she shit all over my parade when she told me that my detention would be fulfilled with the company of my child.

Begrudgingly, the pair of us agreed to exchange addresses, making sure that we're able to get to one another with little issue. Hendrix drives, so that's simple enough, and Ezra has declared he's more than happy to escort me to the edge of the Earth if it means getting rid of a crying robot baby.

As the countdown shortens, I'm very quickly becoming more and more nervous and less and less content with my quality of life.

"Do you have a name for it?" Nat asks me. I throw up my hands and slap them on my thighs in exasperation.

"Are people not understanding that this isn't actually a real baby?" I ask no one in particular.

Lena sighs and twists her body in the passenger seat, slurping on her diet soda, so she can face me in the back. "You have to give it a name! It's all part of the experience." She takes a moment to think. "How about Ethel? Ethel's cute." She suggests.

"It's called the baby project, not the pensioner project." I dead pan. She pulls a face at me, slapping me playfully. I groan and shrug in response. "I don't really care what it's called. Hendrix can name it if he wants." I decide.

"Shut up!" Nat squeals, scaring the soul out of both Alena and I. "That was never you being diplomatic in relation to Elijah Hendrix." She looks at me through her rear-view mirror and I stick my tongue out at her.

"Oh Nat, you've never seen anything like it. Three days now – three days they've sat together in the common area and haven't drawn a crowd." Alena informs her. Nat guffaws in disbelief forcing me to frown and sulk.

Though I haven't mentioned it, I've felt as though I have no other option but to be nicer to Hendrix, a decision I didn't make lightly.. Considering that on Saturday, he did save me from my ex, sit outside in the freeing cold with me for at least an hour and half, then proceed to share a taxi home with me when I sort of, might've, blacked out. The girls don't know, and I think it's better to keep it that way. Explaining the current dynamic of Elijah's and my hate-ship would mean admitting that Adam was at the party and I have no doubt that Nat would be quick to buy a real gun and put a full stop at the end of that sentence, if you catch my drift.

Similarly, I haven't mentioned that Adam has also messaged me twice since; once on Sunday to mention he came to the party hoping to see me, and then one on Monday asking if we could go for coffee. I should block him, I know I should, but it's just impossible.

Hendrix and I haven't mentioned Saturday night once, probably for the preservation of my dignity and to help him maintain the hard faced cool guy act, which I'm sure would be quick destroyed if I mentioned that he has an unhealthy obsession with Friends and called me 'not ugly' at least twice. And, because if either of us do mention it, it would mean I would have to show gratitude and he would have to admit he has a tiny sliver of compassion when it comes down to it.

All that said, we're still not exactly pals, especially considering he keeps finding it socially acceptable to steal food from my plate in the cafeteria, despite me stabbing him repeatedly in the hand with a fork.

"I think it's massive development," Lena continues, pulling me from my stupor.

"Consequence of your advice." I interrupt. "You said 'act like adults'. So, we're adulting." She turns to me with a kind smile.

"Well, I think it's a very attractive look on you." I roll my eyes, trying to suppress the flush at her very genuine compliment. "Nat, will you drop me at Owens? I promised I'd help him with biology." She adds.

Natalie nods, keeping her eyes on the road. "I thought Collins was practically a scientist?" She queries in a mumble as she searches for an opening in the road.

I narrow my eyes at the back of Lena's head accusingly. "He is." I mutter. Having noticed my suspicion, she's quick to develop her reasoning.

"He's just having real trouble with DNA replication. I offered to give him a hand." I fold my arms and knit my brows together, not at all convinced. DNA replication, huh? That's a new way to put it.

"And he asked for your help?" I quiz. Now don't get me wrong, Lena isn't stupid. In fact, quite the contrary. However, for it to be an actual viable story, Collins would've had to suffer a pickaxe to the brain. He's the Stephen Hawkins of St Bardo's.

"Yes." She says rather shortly. "I'm not stupid you know." She adds, just as we pull up to Collins' house.

"We know," Nat assures her, firing her a kind smile. Both Lena and I climb out of the car, Lena waving us goodbye once she's grabbed her shopping bags as I climb into the front. "They're totally fucking." Nat claims before I've even got my seatbelt on.

"Oh yeah," I agree simply. "The set of sneaky devils."

Nat laughs. "They'll admit it sooner or later. They're probably just figuring it out." I shrug and nod in agreement. "Seems you've got a couple things to figure out too." I look at her slightly confused. "I might play the fool Charlie, but I'm a reader of the room. What's going on with you?"

I expel a heavy sigh, looking out of the window. Where to start Nat. "I'm just all over the place." I eventually confess. "Adam – he's been in touch a couple times." Nat slams on the breaks, sending us both jolting forward. "Natalie!" I cry out. She shakes her head and pulls into the curb, turning off the engine as she looks at me expectantly to continue. "He rang me last week. Said he missed me and wanted to talk. I was strong though Nat, I threatened him with theft of his family pooch."

She nods her head. "Naturally. Continue."

"Well, after that, I didn't hear from him until a couple of days ago. He's text me twice, Sunday and Monday, but I think that's because he came to the party." Nat pulls a face of pure disgust.

"The cock wobble was at Seb's house?"

"With his girlfriend." I add.

"With his girlfriend." She echoes with bitterness. "Did he talk to you? Why didn't you come and get me!" I shake my head and waft her off.

"No, Hendrix got rid of him. I asked him to find you, but he said you were busy with a penis owner." Natalie pulls a face.

"No I wasn't?" I turn to her and match her expression. "Honestly, I didn't do anything. I was playing beer pong most of the night after I lost you. Don't get me wrong, I was absolutely wiped out, but I know for a fact I didn't engage in any sex with either gender. I didn't even kiss anyone." If I wasn't so confused at the fact Hendrix lied, I'd be surprised at that exclamation.

"Why would he lie?" I ask Natalie. She purses her lips and shrugs slowly, starting up the engine again and taking to driving.

"Seems like Elijah's got a few bits to figure out too."