Oh, Baby (Chapter 1)

Lizzie laid on her plaid sheet covered bed flat on her back. "Me and Warren are really hitting it off," she said into her cherry-colored cellphone. "We went on three dates in one week. That's like marriage phase."
"Ooh, do you want to marry him?" asked Madeline through the phone.
"That's not what I meant... but yes! I want to be Mrs. Lizzie Kerr. Or Mrs. Lizzie Duvall-Kerr. Or Warren should change his name to Mr. Duvall-Kerr or Kerr-Duvall. I know Carlos Pena Jr. shares a name with Alexis Vega."
"Alexa."
"Yeah, Alexis."
"Okay. You two would make a cute couple."
"Me, too. I'm hot; he's hot. We're hot together. Doesn't that make fire?"
"Yes, it does, Lizzie. Yes, it does."
"Wow, that's too hot. But I like him so I shouldn't care."
"Are you guys going on a date later this week?"
"Yes, we are. Next Saturday. He's taking me out to dinner so I'm gonna wear this amazing red dress--"
Lizzie saw her parents enter her open bedroom.
"--that is really long," she continued. "A long dress that covers my ankles, practically my whole feet. And it has long sleeves and a high neckline."
"Are your parents in the room?" Madeline asked.
"Maddie, I got to go."
"Alright. See ya, sister."
"Sister, see ya."
Lizzie swiped her finger on the phone to hang up. She sat up so she can properly face her parents.
"What's going on, guys?" she asked.
"Uh, Lizzie, we have something important to tell you," said her father.
"When you mean 'important', you mean I'm finally getting jewelry?"
"No."
"Oh, that's a bummer. Will you guys ever let me wear what I want?"
"I thought you like the way we dress you," said Lizzie's mother.
"You thought wrong, mom."
"Can we change the subject?" asked the father.
"Fine. We'll talk about this later. So what's the important thing?"
Lizzie's dad looked at his wife. "Do you want to tell her?"
Lizzie's mother nodded then looked at her daughter. "Lizzie, I'm pregnant."
Lizzie paused. "With joy?"
"No, with a baby. You're going to have a brother or sister."
"Huh." Lizzie stared blank into the air.
"What do you think?" her father asked.
Lizzie parted her lips in another pause. "You guys are having sex?"
Her father's eyebrows slanted towards each other.
"Lizzie, that is none of your business," said her mother.
"It is my business because you can't get pregnant without having sex," Lizzie explained herself.
"Then the answer to that question is obvious," her father responded.
Her mother hit her husband in the arm.
"I thought you two were conservative or something," Lizzie supposed. "That's the whole point of going to church, praying at the dinner table and me wearing these bum clothes."
"Hey, don't call those clothes 'bum'," pointed her mother. "These are clothes made by the Lord."
Lizzie gazed at the ceiling. "Then, Lord, I'm sorry to say this but these clothes are whack. Alright? Sorry to use urban dictionary slang but that's how I feel. You need to improve your fashion sense."
"Don't do that. It's not funny."
"Of course it's not funny. I don't laugh when I got these clothes on."
"Girls, don't argue," the dad enjoined. "Stress makes ugly children. Lizzie, are you happy or not?"
Lizzie held her breath. She looked down at her feet then at her parents. "Yes, I am," she replied before biting her lower lip.
"Fantastic."
"That's good," said her mother.
"And we may admire the powers of God but that doesn't mean we're not hip."
"Dad, hip people don't say 'hip'," mentioned Lizzie.
"You dunno what you be's talking bout... yo."