"Not a good idea. I'm too involved."

"But he's attacking every single mother-every woman who works-every woman whose child does something he may not like!"

"Then it'll be up to those women to speak up. That's why we have Letters to the Editor."

"I'm going to write one. I'll say you had absolutely no part in this."

Susan shook her head. "You're missing the point. He believes that if I had been a proper mother, the thought of getting pregnant would never have crossed your mind."

"You mean, a proper mother raises a drone?"

"Try clone. He wanted that with his own daughters."

"Who never come back here to live. Do you realize that, Mom? They go off to college and never return. Wonder why that is."

They both knew, but the reminder didn't help Susan. Once again, she felt people were watching, talking, condemning. Like Hester Prynne, she felt branded.

She looked at Lily. "Do you feel that way, too-branded?" she asked, then realized she hadn't shared the original thought. "Do you feel like you're standing on a platform in the center of town, with a red letter on your chest and a baby in your arms?"

Lily laughed. "No, Mom." Her eyes widened. "Omigod, what if you were still teaching that book? Would that be awful!"

"Actually, not. If I were still a teacher, there wouldn't be such an uproar. It's because I'm the principal that George is so angry. We do have a say about who leads our children-they need the best possible role models. My being principal is a problem for him."

The girl sobered. "I am really, really sorry. I had no idea my being pregnant would cause you trouble. You're the best mother."

Susan put her head back again. "Tell me more."

"You are a role model. I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for you."

"Isn't that what George is saying? Look where you are. Seventeen, pregnant, unmarried." She stared at her daughter. "What does Robbie have to say about all of this?"

"Nothing."

"Is he still suspicious?"

Lily gave a one-shouldered shrug. "He asks. I tell him he's wrong, but I don't think he believes me. He's like everyone else, wondering who the father is, and no one else has come forward. Doesn't say much about guys who want to be with me, does it?"

Susan was startled. "Are you disappointed?"

"Not disappointed. Just… well, who wouldn't want guys fighting over her?"

"Lily. That's insane. This isn't about a date to the prom."

"Anyway," the girl went on, "since there are no other suspects, Robbie thinks it's him. The weird thing is, no one else suspects him. I mean, he and I have been friends so long that when people see us talking, they don't think anything of it."

"Are you planning to tell him?"

"Eventually."

"Before the baby is born?"

"Maybe." Her face brightened. Sitting down beside Susan, she took her hand. "Know what the baby's doing now? She's the size of a baseball, and she's moving her arms and legs. She can even suck her thumb. Isn't that weird?"

Weird was one word for it, Susan mused. She was trying to think up another word, when Lily said quietly, "I really want this baby, Mom, and not because of sharing something with my two best friends, not even so we can have a bigger family. This baby is me. She has my genes. What I do impacts her. If I have a Coke, she gets a sugar high and wiggles all over the place."

"Do you feel movement?" Susan asked in surprise.

"Not yet, but I know it's happening, and I know she's looking more like a person. I can't wait to see her. The sonogram's the week after next. Think she'll look like me? Or like you? What if she's blinking her eyes? What if she's sucking her thumb?"

"What if she has a penis?" Susan asked.

"She won't," Lily said with the confidence of a seventeen-year-old. "She'll be perfect."

Susan was thinking of perfection several hours later, wondering if it was ever possible to achieve, since people defined it so differently, when she heard a noise near Lily's room. She listened for a minute, wondering if something was wrong. Slipping out of bed, she crossed the hall.

The butterfly nightlight cast its glow on two bodies-and for an instant, Susan panicked. She did not want to find Robbie Boone here, absolutely did not.

But the heads that rose had long hair. "Jess?" she whispered, crossing to the bed.

"I had to leave," Jessica said quietly. "Mom and Dad were arguing again. This was the only place I could come."

"Does your mother know you're here?"

"She won't care. She can't stand the sight of me."

"That is absolutely not true. She's upset, and doesn't know how to deal."

Jessica made a sound. "That's because Martha Stewart doesn't cover family crises."

Susan sat on the tiny strip of bed that was free. "Unfair, Jess. She's trying to understand you; you have to try to understand her."

"We are just so different."

"You're really not. I know you both too well. You share the same goals. You'll just take different paths getting there."

"Totally. So what I'm doing is fine."

"Excuse me," Susan cautioned, lest there be any misunderstanding. "Pregnancy at seventeen is not a shared goal. Happiness is. Success is."

"But at least you can talk about those things. My mother can't."

"This has been a shock."

"For you, too, but you're sitting here with us. Can I move in? Just 'til my baby's born?" She was serious.

Flashing back to her own experience, Susan was, too. "No. You need to be at home."

"My parents may get divorced because of me."

"They won't. They just need to work through this." Susan had to talk to Sunny. "Stay here for tonight," she said as she stood. "I'll let your mom know. But you're back home tomorrow. Right?"

Sunny was subdued. "She raced out of here. I told Dan she'd be going to your house, but he doesn't trust what I say. I don't know what to do, Susan. We're okay, until she walks in the room."

"Is he siding with her?"

"No. He's as upset as I am that she's pregnant. But he thinks I'm handling it wrong. I'm starting to think he's bought into the bad-mother hype."

"No, Sunny," Susan said, because she did know Dan. "If he's coming down hard on you, it's because he feels helpless."

"And I don't? Want to take my daughter in for the next few months?" she asked, echoing her daughter's request.

"N-O, no. It's enough having to deal with my own. And Jess needs to be with you. Please, Sunny," she begged, "don't make the same mistake my parents did."

Susan didn't blame her parents for her pregnancy, simply for making it harder than it had to be. She might have worried that she was doing the same with Lily, if morning hadn't come so fast.

The Leadership Team included the superintendent and the town's six principals, and met monthly to discuss the issues at hand. There were always a few. Susan had always found her fellow principals to be thoughtful and fair-minded. But she had never before been the subject of their discussion.

The meeting was set for eleven. In advance, Phil forwarded copies of the e-mail Susan had sent to her faculty and parents, along with a note explaining that he wanted to know what they were hearing in the wake of the Gazette editorial.

Usually with this group, discussion was brisk. One of the middle school principals, in particular, shot from the hip, but he didn't this time. It was an elementary school principal who finally, hesitantly, spoke.

"I've had lots of questions. Many of my parents hadn't known about this until the paper came out. I tell them that Susan is a great principal." She slid Susan an apologetic look. "They want to know more."

Susan said nothing. This was Phil's meeting.

"What more?" he asked.

"They want to know how three girls could have done this."

"They're concerned about the pact, then," Phil said. "That's fair enough. We have information to give them on that. Susan will forward it."

No one spoke. The discomfort was tangible.

Finally, another of the elementary school principals said, "It's more than the pact. It's that Susan's daughter is one of the girls. My parents don't like that."

The more pensive of the middle school principals weighed in. "Mine are upset, too. Their own children are hitting puberty. Some are way past it and going to the high school next year. They don't want their kids getting ideas." She looked helplessly at Susan. "I'm sorry. This isn't what you want to hear."

No. But she wasn't surprised.

Phil addressed the other middle school principal. "You're quiet, Paul. No calls from your ranks?"

Paul shrugged. "I can ignore some, like from the parent who's on probation for shoplifting or the one whose kids go home to an empty house most days of the week. But there are some calls from parents I admire. They're talking about morals."

"They read the Gazette," Phil said.

"It isn't just that. They know how young Susan is and that she's single. They're doing the math."

Susan had expected this, too. She girded herself for more questions on it, but there were none.

"So the response is overwhelmingly negative," Phil concluded. "Okay. How do we deal with it?"

No one replied.

"It's all about information," he said, and talked about what Susan had done to open discussion at the high school, and what he felt was appropriate at each of the lower grade levels. He didn't consult Susan, though there were times he might have. Nor did the other principals interrupt.

Susan listened quietly, trying to maintain her dignity, though she was dying inside.

When the meeting ended and the others left, she stayed where she was. Phil was sitting back, an elbow on the arm of the chair, a fist to his chin. He was brooding, staring at the desk, then at her.