Chapter 73

A week after my 14th birthday, Melody crept into my room and woke me with a gentle shove. I jerked up right away, Misty meowing a protest beside me. "What's up?"

"My water broke."

I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. "It's go time, then. Does Braxton know? Aunt Melissa?"

"Brax stayed the night, and I'm just going to get Melissa. My contractions are about eight minutes apart."

"You get your hospital bag, I'll get Aunt Melissa." I quickly got into regular clothes, patted Misty on the head, then headed toward the main bedroom.

"What? Is everything okay?" Aunt Melissa mumbled when I tapped her awake. "Mel's in labor, her water broke."

"Oh shit- pardon my language. Greg, stay with Mads and Kenz, I'm taking Melody to the hospital."

"Okay," Greg said semi-clearly. Melody, Melissa, Braxton and I got ready fairly quickly and headed downstairs. Misty followed us, meowing sadly, and received some comforting pets on the head. '

"Ooooh," Melody hissed through a contraction in the car. "This hurts."

"You did want to keep the baby," I snarked, then softened. "Anything I can do?"

"No, you're good. I want you and Braxton with me in the delivery room," Melody said clearly. Aunt Melissa nodded, not hurt. She'd only known Melody for two years, after all.

Melody was left sitting in the waiting room for an hour, her contractions getting closer together, when I decided to nicely push things along. I got up and walked to the front desk, putting on my best show smile for the receptionist.

"Hi! I know that you're super busy, but my sister's labor is progressing kind of quickly and I really think that she needs a room soon."

"Name?"

"Melody Ziegler."

The receptionist, an older woman, looked up in recognition. "Like the dancing show Ziegler?"

"Yeah, but she's a painter, not a dancer. My cousins and I are on the show."

"My daughters love that show. Let me see what I can do for you." The receptionist, whose nametag read "Sarah," smiled at me.

Melody got a room within the next ten minutes and walked herself back into the halls. The doctor was a nice, young-ish Black woman named Dr. Wilson. She met us at the room and had Melody change into a hospital gown.

"Okay, Miss Ziegler, you're thirty weeks along, so that's good. Your reports say that you've had a normal pregnancy, although there are always concerns with mothers who haven't finished puberty. How far apart are your contractions?"

"About five and a half minutes. I've been in labor for about two and a half hours."

"Let me just check your dilation. Four centimeters, so you're coming along well. Would you like an epidural?"

"Yes, please," Melody squeaked through another contraction. Braxton and I held her hands as the tube was attached to her back, and the relief was immediate and obvious. Melody was able to relax between contractions, and spent a lot of time complaining about school.

"Speaking of which, you have school tomorrow," I pointed out.

"I'm not coming in," Melody stated. "Shall I call or email?"

"Let's go with email," I said. "It is two in the morning."

Melody frowned. "You have class in six hours, Jo! Don't let me keep you!"

"You're having a baby, class can wait," I said dismissively.

"Abby really wanted you there," my aunt warned.

"Well, family comes first, and she doesn't teach me anyway."

"She doesn't see it like that."

At that, Melody rolled her eyes. "That's because she's an arrogant, entitled bitch. Pardon my language."

"She's not that bad," my aunt argued weakly. "...Okay, she's that bad. I'll tell her what's going on and she can deal with it."

Melody's labor was painful but quick and without complications. A baby's cries soon filled the room, much to my and his parents' delight. Aunt Melissa returned in time to hear the child's name.

"Meet Dustin Jakob Ziegler-Jones," Melody grinned, too thrilled to be tired. "Welcome to the world, kid."

The baby's here! I texted Ursula later that morning. His name is Dustin and he and Mel are perfectly healthy.

Oh, yay! Ursula replied immediately. Abby was wondering why you weren't at the studio.

I rolled my eyes. Both Aunt Melissa and I called her. She's just being petty.

I mean, she wanted you to be at the studio anyway.

I can just dance more this afternoon. I don't even have a teacher for today. I hope that she's not giving you a hard time about it.

She tried but I played dumb and she just gave up.

Good, I replied. I can't wait to leave. Ballet teachers are strict, not psychotic, at the very least.