A/N: Hey everybody; it's ray4ruffles. I'm having problems getting a hold of Caroline Idina Fabray, so I decided to post the next chapter separately until she comes back. Most of it is what it would be with her, so it shouldn't jerk with the story, flow-wise. I'm working on the next chapter now, so if I still don't' hear from her soon, I'll post my version when that finishes on this story as well. But hopefully she'll be back by then.

A/N: Blah, blah, disclaimer. Blah, blah, we own nothing. Song featured is The Beatles' "A Little Help From My Friends".

Will awoke early the next morning to find half of the bed empty. He put on a pair of slippers, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled down the hall, following an odd scratching noise that was coming from the nursery.

"Emma?" he asked upon reaching the door, a smile creeping onto his face as he saw his wife's form hunched over what would be their son's crib.

However, the smile dropped in disbelief when the pregnant woman turned to look at him, eyes imitating a deer in the headlights as she guiltily tried to hide the spray bottle and scrubber in her rubber-gloved hands behind her back.

"Will," she gasped in surprise.

"What are you doing Emma?" he asked uncomprehendingly, still moving in a fog of fuzzy morning brain.

The redhead quickly put the supplies behind the changing table, and moved to take her husband's hands. "Will," she told him. "This isn't what it looks like—there's a perfectly good explanation—"

"For you cleaning in the middle of the night?" the curly haired man interjected, wrenching his hands away. "I knew—I knew I smelled Lemon Zest in here last week! And the Handiwipes yesterday? I should have known something was wrong." He glanced around, hands planted firmly on his hips in disbelief and disappointment. "How long has this been going on?"

"I've been working on it," she tried to reassure him. "I've been talking to my therapist—"

"How long?" Will demanded.

Emma looked down shamefacedly. "It's been getting harder in the last month, what with all of the last minute work and the sheer—reality of it all." She brought her head up to look at him sadly. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this Will," she told him.

"So you've been lying to me," her husband assessed. "All this time, with everything that we've been going through together, and you've been lying the whole time."

"I thought I could handle it," she tearfully explained. "And you were so excited; I didn't want to disappoint you…"

Will exhaled loudly, feeling his own tears of frustration building up. "So I did this," he deadpanned. "Wow; first Terri, now you. I must really be something to inspire this in the women I love, aren't I?"

If possible, Emma's eyes grew even wider as they brimmed with tears, her jaw going slack at the comment. "Will, that's not fair," she told him. "I'm trying—"

"So am I," the Spanish teacher replied, not bothering to hold back his misery. "I've done nothing but try to be there for you, and you couldn't even be honest with me about the most important thing in our lives."

He dragged his hand across his face, wiping away the dampness roughly as he took a deep breath. "I've got to go," he stated, turning to leave.

"Where?" Emma called after him. "Will?"

"I don't know yet," the curly-haired man replied as he reached the front door. "I just… I just need some time. I'll call you."

And with that, he disappeared out the door of their apartment.

Michelle sighed as she perused a particularly boring drawer of files in the office closet.

"Trying to overload the room with carbon dioxide?" Lindsay asked, not looking up from her own stash of papers. "That's got to be the third time you've made that much noise."

"There's nothing here," she retorted, tossing the folder on the floor.

"Nothing in the entirety of the weekly reports?" the overly tanned girl asked. "And you know this after skimming, what—five write-ups?"

"I just don't think we should be here," the petite brunette huffed.

"And how is that different than any other day we're here?" her friend asked.

Michelle shrugged noncommittally and nudged a paper with her foot.

"This isn't about that exposé last week, is it?" the Muckraker questioned. "Geez, Chelle—everyone else has moved on by now—you and your little Gleeks need to let it go."

"I know Ernie, but what if they're not wrong?" the Cheerio pressed. "I mean, we did really hurt Katie, and she never did anything."

Her orange friend gave her a look. "We're supposed to be impartial, hon," she replied. "The point is to bring out the news—we're doing the school a service. And sometimes that's going to hurt." She put a hand on Michelle's shoulder. "What's important is that we don't let it get us down; that we stay focused, and if they don't get that, then screw them. Right?"

The Cheerio said nothing, just looked back down at the sea of beige in front of her.

Ernie sighed, letting her shoulders drop and head fall back dramatically. "Ugh, fine," she placated the girl. "From now on we'll make sure all stories don't destroy the lives of the little people; happy?" Michelle unwillingly smirked a little at her friend's declaration, and she continued, "Plus, I've got a way better idea for our next P.I. plot."

The petite girl couldn't help it; she leaned forward, intrigued. "What?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"Unlike some people," she replied pointedly. "I've been meticulously keeping tabs on certain persons of interest, looking for patterns of a suspicious nature. And this is what I've found." She slid a folder across the floor.

Michelle picked it up and glanced at the name. "Nikki?" she read, eyes quirking up skeptically. She opened the file and perused the papers. "Hall passes? What's so incriminating about that?"

Lindsay huffed impatiently. "Hall passes that take ten minutes? And are taken at scattered points with no pattern? You don't see that as shady?" She grabbed the folder back and smacked her friend with it. "We're creatures of habit, Princess; timing on skipped periods is always cyclical for bathroom trips, cigarette breaks, cutting. Even you and me—we plan these trips carefully and with traceable patterns, much as we try not to. These trips Medusa's making? No discernible pattern. Which means she's planning more carefully than we're looking."

"And you want to dig up her dirty secret?" the Cheerio asked. "No way—have you seen what she does to people that don't bother her? I'm not putting myself in the path of that tornado."

"You don't have to take credit if you don't want," the orange girl reassured her. "But this could put me in the path of Cal State easily. Just help me out, and I will take the full burden and hailstorm of responsibility myself." She looked at her uncertain friend. "Michelle, this is the opportunity of a lifetime: it takes the Nikki Hardy down a peg, and it will put you back on the good side of your little Glee friends."

Ernie nudged her friend repeatedly with her shoulder until the smaller girl smiled and pushed her back in agreement.

Suddenly, a harsh buzz erupted from Michelle's purse. She pulled out her phone and grimaced.

"Stassi," she stated. "Crap; I was hoping to talk to Caroline about the whole 'cutting practice' thing."

"I wonder why Mini-Q isn't making the call," Lindsay wondered as she gathered up her things.

Annie giggled as she and Hayden sat together in the library chairs. Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced at it for a microsecond before pushing "Ignore".

"That's the third time you've ignored your phone," the blonde boy noted. "Someone seems to want to get ahold of you pretty badly."

"It's my friend Caroline," the Cheerio replied. "She'll totally understand if I blow her off for a little while longer. I don't get to see you nearly as often as I do them."

"I will admit," Hayden conceded. "You randomly showing up to break me out of class yesterday for a jam session was pretty impressive."

"Yesterday was a lot of fun," she agreed. "I knew you could sing, but I wasn't sure you'd go for it."

"Beatles Karaoke? Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously. "I'm British; we're baptized in the name of John, Paul, George, and Ringo."

Annie giggled again. Hayden was a lot of fun to be around; different than the other guys she'd crushed on. He was so interesting, and funny, and super cute. She wasn't even really bothered by the fact that he couldn't see. The only real downside to him for her was how firmly he continued to establish that friendship line between them.

"Well I wish you'd join Glee," she told him, half-jokingly. "This team we're up against is scary good, and we could use all the help we could get."

"Yeah, well I'm not sure how much help a blind kid would be in a show choir," he said self-deprecatingly. "I'd probably end up falling off of the stage."

"You couldn't be any worse than most of our other guys," she argued. "I swear, if the girls of this team dropped out, the New Directions would be screwed."

Annie's phone buzzed again, and she quickly typed, "Later" without even glancing at the screen this time.

"You seem to be missed," Hayden commented, shifting in his seat. "Maybe we should get going."

"No!" the brunette argued, causing the librarian to shush her and her face to turn bright red. "I mean," she continued quietly. "I can hang out for a little while longer, if you can."

"Yeah, I don't think I'll be missed for a bit more," the sophomore conceded with a smirk as he leaned back into his chair. "So tell me about these—what are they, Rhythmic Revolutions or Fab Four?"

The Cheerio laughed. "Your guess is as good as mine. I didn't see them yesterday because of Cheerios, but I saw the video the guys made, plus did some scouting on the Web. They placed fifth at Nationals last year, and the blogs are talking them up like crazy, especially with the four main leads in each year— Senior Colette St. Knox, Junior Gabriel Milan, Sophomore Shala Simons, and Freshman Jasper Smith. They say they've got it all together this time."

"Well you guys placed first last year," Hayden reminded her.

"No, the old New Directions placed first," Annie corrected him sadly. "And The Fab Four didn't have Jazz. I don't think any of us really know who's leading our group yet, and Sectionals is next week!"

"Then I guess it's time for someone to step up and show what's what," the blonde said with a smile.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," a voice commented from behind them, and Annie turned to see Stassi looking down sternly at the sophomore. "Hudson, say goodbye to Tiresias. We've got business."

Annie winced visibly and murmured a "find you later" to Hayden, then shuffled out the door closely followed by the Armenian.

The bell rang and there was a thundering of noise as students exited English, but Liam remained, watching with interest as Emma and Ashwin collected their things and walked closely but not together into the hallway.

"Wait up," she called out quietly, jogging a few steps to catch up with him as they entered the corridor. "You didn't take my call last night. Aren't we going to talk about this?"

"I had homework, and I don't really see anything that we need to talk about," the boy countered. "Besides, I'm supposed to meet Rhi before class starts."

"So your new girlfriend is more important than me?" the girl asked, hurt. Ashwin said nothing, didn't even remind her that the blonde wasn't his girlfriend; he just sighed and continued to move toward his locker. "And how can you not think you owe me an explanation, if not an apology? Are you that ashamed of me that you wouldn't tell anyone that you had a girlfriend?"

The tall boy turned to look at her incredulously. "Are you kidding? That's the last thing I feel for you. But ballroom is ballroom, and the Shalas of the world were pretty much the last thing I wanted to talk to you about when we were together."

"I don't know why you couldn't have at least given me a heads up," Emma insisted.

"I don't follow her bio, Emms; I didn't know she was in Glee too."

"But—"

"Emma; I don't know what you want from me," the boy told her, shutting the metal door in frustration. "You're my best friend, but you're also my ex now, and when I try to stay close, I feel like you're pushing me away. So I keep my distance, but then you're upset that I'm not there. I just don't know where I'm supposed to be."

Emma looked hurt at the assessment, and reached out to touch his arm in comfort, when a bouncing bubbly junior in an oversized army jacket covering a plaid button down and skinny jeans slid in between them. "Hey guys," she said exuberantly, throwing her arms over Ashwin's shoulders and giving him a quick kiss. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Yeah," the brunette commented, glancing at the hipster girl hanging all over her former boyfriend. "I can see that you've really been tearing yourself in half over where we stand."
"Come on, Emma—" He countered, pulling away from Rhi to take a step toward the sophomore, but the girl withdrew from his attempt, throwing her hands up.

"Don't bother. Why would you want to talk to your frumpy ex-girlfriend when you can have a skinny blonde upgrade?"

Ashwin gave her a look. "That's not fair, Emma," he told her.

"Well, life seems to work that way a lot recently," she retorted, turning and continuing toward class alone.

Emma made it to her locker and roughly flipped the combination before yanking the door open. She'd missed breakfast this morning and had intended on grabbing a granola bar from her bag to snack on until lunch, but now the brunette was anything but hungry as she felt frustrated and fat. Instead, in an act of impulsiveness, she threw the contents of her meal into a nearby trashcan.

"Ouch—I can't imagine what that sandwich did to incur the wrath of Emma Malley," Liam voiced as he walked up behind her.

The girl groaned loudly. "Do I have to get a restraining order?" she demanded angrily. "Why are you stalking me?"

"Whoa, not stalking," the boy replied, putting his hands up in surrender. "I just saw you and Wonderboy walking out, looking awkward, and now you're here, alone—I thought I'd check up."

"Well, I'm fine," she snapped.

"I can see that." Liam watched as she continued to stare into her locker. "That lunch bag just had it coming."

Emma sighed. "Why wouldn't he tell anyone he had a girlfriend?" she asked.

Liam looked at her curiously. "Do you tell everyone in gymnastics that you had a boyfriend?"

"Everyone on my team knew about Ashwin," the girl insisted. "I even kept his picture in my sports bag.

"What about the competition?" Liam asked. "Did you go around showing them his picture?"

"What? Why would I do that?"

"Because you seem angry that that Shala girl didn't know about you, but they don't dance together," Liam replied gently. "They're rivals that see each other a lot. Nina is his team, and she knows you fine."

Emma huffed as her rational brain nagged that the annoying guy in front of her was right.

"Plus," the tall boy continued, leaning up against the lockers. "I don't know about you, but after seeing her, I'd rather she didn't know I existed—girl's a witch."

She chuckled. "Yeah, seriously."

The lean boy pushed himself off of the lockers. "Come on," he told her. "Let's get out of here for a while—I'll give you the opportunity to get your butt handed to you out on the track again."

Emma looked at him skeptically. "But we have class," she argued.

"Not an important one," he insisted. "So unless you're embarrassed about the idea of losing a race to a slacker again…"

"Yeah, right," the brunette countered, reaching up to tie her hair back. "You've lost the element of surprise. Now that I'm onto your game, you've got nothing."

The boy smiled. "We'll see," he told her.

Caroline watched with reluctant admiration as a group of roughly ten Cheerios cowed before the pacing and harsh glares of Stassi as she stood before them. The freshman had waited until every teammate she'd tried to get ahold of evaded or avoided her text to contact the junior for advice, and the girl had managed to round them all up within minutes of taking on the project.

Since then, it had just been pacing and glaring.

"Stassi, it's going to be lunch soon…" one of the girls spoke up bravely, shutting up instantly under the withering stare the girl cast upon her.

"You are all here because you walked out of a mandatory Cheerio's practice," the older girl called out in an authoritarian tone. "If Coach Sylvester found out about this, you could all easily lose your uniforms." A few girls noticeably flinched. "However, at the behest of your new captain, you are instead required to attend this meeting, to not only make up the time lost working on the routine, but to properly express your gratitude and rededication to this team."

The girl crossed her arms pointedly, giving one final scathing look to the Cheerios before her before turning heel and walking out the door, stopping at Caroline and whispering, "Take two, Fabray."

"Where are you going?" the freshman whispered.

Stassi gave her an incredulous look. "I didn't screw up practice—I'm going to lunch."

Caroline watched her walk away and once again felt flustered about being thrown into a leadership position of a team she was not familiar with.

She took a deep breath. "Okay guys," she began, trying to speak confidently. "If we're going to take Nationals this year, we need to work together and not be afraid of a little hard work. After watching yesterday's routine, I think we should start by warming up with a couple laps, then practice our round-offs."

Most of the girls huffed, but grudgingly started jogging off. Annie, however, walked over to where Caroline was standing.

"Hey Care," she greeted. "Look, I didn't mean to cause trouble, you know?"

"You walked out of my practice," the freshman reminded her. "Those girls followed you."

"Seriously, Stassi's not here," Annie interjected. "You don't have to be the Big Bad right now. And I know what I did wasn't necessarily on the up and up. So do the other girls. But we didn't mean to make you look lacking or anything, you know?"

Caroline sighed. "Well, yeah, I know."

"So," the girl continued. "I mean, we all understand if you think it's necessary to take the full lunch to go over the routine and everything, but honestly? Whatever Stassi's been saying, just remember she's a total hard-ass because she's practically starving herself to fit her fat thighs into those spanks."

"Annie!" the freshman exclaimed, covering a smile at the inappropriate comment.

Annie smirked unapologetically. "You're running circles around her and Nikki both, and you don't have to be like them to prove you belong here."

Annie gave another easy smile, and the freshman reluctantly returned it. "Yeah," she replied. "I guess it'd be okay if we just worked on some fine-tuning for a while, then you guys could head to lunch."

"Great!" the sophomore replied. "Okay, I'm going to run, and we'll get this party going!" And with that she happily ran off after the others.

"Where have you been?" Wally asked as Stassi sat down cooly next to Dalton.

"Putting some bitches in line," the junior replied rolling her eyes. "Apparently no matter who plays Captain I have a solid role as Enforcer on this team." She glanced around. "So what are you guys up to?"

"Discussing the Double-F's still," Ashwin supplied, taking a bite of his samosa.

"Somehow the whole incident hasn't gotten any less depressing," Coby added, stealing an Oreo from Wally's tray. "It's like they took the best that we had to offer, and then evolved."

"It didn't help that we were sorely lacking the bitch factor that they seemed to have in spades yesterday," Wally agreed. "Although Hayley might have gotten expelled had she been there."

"Man I wish I'd have gone," Stassi lamented. "I would have loved to see what kind of abuse that Shala could have come up with under some real competition."

"You guys," Dalton interrupted as he and Roxie stared at his phone's screen. "I think we may have just taken this whole thing way out of context."

The group turned to him incredulously. "Seriously D?" Ashwin asked. "Where were you yesterday?"

The blonde handed his phone to the tiny freshman who passed it to the husky junior next to her. "See?" he replied. "I just got a text from Gabe—it's an apology and a chance to clear things up tomorrow night. He wants to meet."

"That doesn't sound ominous," Michelle commented curiously as she sat down, looking flushed. "Are we having a duel?"

Stassi gave the arriving girl a hard look. "What are you doing here?" she asked with a frown.

The freshman flinched, but held her ground. "I'm part of the team," she countered. "I have the right to know what's going on just as much as anyone else."

"No," the Cheerio retorted. "I mean, why are you here? Why aren't all of you in the gym, practicing?" She glanced around as she spoke, noting the sudden influx of Cheerios that had appeared in the cafeteria.

"Oh, that," Michelle replied uneasily. "Well, Caroline, as Captain, decided that…after some deliberation and consideration and effort on details in the routine…she let us go early."

"She did what?!" the junior bit.

"So tomorrow night—Scandals," Coby interjected as Dalton put a hand on Stassi's shoulder to keep her from pouncing on their teammate. "Who's in?"

"We're going to a gay bar for a Show Choir showdown?" Wally asked, quirking an eyebrow. "That's not something out of a homophobe's bad creative writing piece."

"I'm going," Dalton said, taking his phone back. "If this is our chance to clear the air, I'm in." He looked to Roxie, who smiled and nodded.

"Not much chance for clear air in that place, but I'll be with you," Coby replied with a grin, putting his hand in the middle of the table.

"Sure—I'm game for an adventure," Wally added, and he and Ashwin put in their hands.

"Well, I'm coming for certain this time," Stassi remarked, though grudgingly joining the pile.

"Me too!" Michelle exclaimed.

"No way," the junior countered. "Sorry Rox, you either. We need people that could at least possibly pass for 21 with fake IDs, and the midgets on the team aren't going to cut it." She scoffed. "I am not going to jail because of you guys."

"Fine, but Everett should go then," Michelle countered. "He's a junior, and he's got a score to settle with Jazz." Everyone looked at her oddly, and she amended, "Well, he's part of the team, and you should have someone to go up against him."

"A freshman Twinkle Toes," the Armenian girl commented. "Yeah; that's the one I'm worried about. Fine, he can come—but he better not embarrass us."

The tiny Hepburn nodded and bolted from the table to find her big brother.

"Should we talk to the others?" Ashwin asked, thinking of Emma.

"We'll bring it up at practice, but let's keep the group small," Dalton answered. "We don't want this to be intimidating."

"Okay, Drew, you're all hooked up," Liam said as he finished tugging at the chest mount harness they'd attached to their friend. "This'll be a great shot."

"And those pretentious snobs thought we were geeks that were only interested in cameras," Teddy said with a smile. "And yet here we are, out in the fresh air at the skate park."

"Well," Andrew commented, tightening his helmet. "To be fair, we are putting together a human interest piece for my audition for that news internship."

"Details," Liam told him with a grin. "Let's do this."

Andrew had actually been planning this for weeks. The submissions board not only wanted you to demonstrate your skill with a camera, but they asked for an example of your ability to capture people in a "unique light". So he and Liam decided to combine his first love, filming, with his distant but still important second—skateboarding. And when they found out that Teddy, while not an avid skater, was a frequent visitor of a wheelchair park with his brother, they easily persuaded him to join them.

"Here we go," Andrew called out, turning on his Hero camera and dropping over the edge.

He swooped through the bowl and pivoted his board backwards to watch his friends in skates awkwardly roll down the hill, What would you think if I sang out of tune

Would you stand up and walk out on me

Just as Liam stumbled, crashing into the side, Andrew rolled to his friend and held out his hand, Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song

and I'll try not to sing out of key

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends, the two harmonized, with Teddy rolling beside them as they made their way back up

Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends

Mm, Gonna try with a little help from my friends

The smallest of the trio began swerving through the park, catching shots of known acquaintances pulling tricks around the half-pipes and rails.

Do you need anybody, he sang, recording Matt and Lisa grab hands as they flew down the bowl

I need somebody to love

He recorded Riley and Morgan paralleling each other on the rails, Could it be anybody

I want somebody to love

They spent hours at the park, collecting all sorts of shots and interviews of friends showing their stuff. As they made their way back to Drew's house to cook up some popcorn and check the footage, the brunette smiled widely as he took of the camera.

Would you believe in a love at first sight, Andrew sang as Teddy and Liam walked into the door

Teddy grinned and opened his phone to a goofy video of him and Caroline dancing badly, Yes, I'm certain that it happens all the time

What do you see when you turn out the light, Liam asked his friend

Andrew glanced around at his room full of drives and DVDs and recording equipment, I can't tell you, but I know it's mine

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends he sang out

The three boys grinned and harmonized, Mm, Gonna try with a little help from my friends

Oh, I get high with a little help from my friends

Yes, I get by with a little help from my friends, Drew sang as he sat by himself later that night, ejecting the finished DVD from his computer and sliding it into a disc slip

With a little help from my friends

Andrew knew that this application was going to be a winner.

"Everett, get out of there!" a voice whined from outside the junior's bedroom, interrupting his thoughts as they were followed by a round of bangs on the door made by a tiny fist. "I need to talk to you!" his sister's whine echoed through the house.

The curly-haired boy huffed and stalked over to his door, grateful as he turned the lock that their fathers were both working late, or he might have gotten scolded for avoiding her (which he wasn't—exactly).

"What?" he asked curtly, trying to look menacing. However, there was little that scared his little sister, and furthest from the list was an angry big brother.

"What are you doing holed up in here?" she asked curiously as she sat on his bed, looking around as she tucked her legs beneath her. "I haven't seen you since your dropped me off at school this morning."

"You said you had a ride home," he reminded her, collecting his play notes and random scraps of paper into a neat pile and sliding them into his drawer.

"I did," she replied. "But you still usually hang around until I get home, and I need a favor from you."

Everett sighed loudly. "Maybe today I don't want to guess if you were going to be detoured by a group of Jocks or one of Lindsay's grand schemes." He moved to the door and held it open. "If that's all—"

"Why are you so anxious to get rid of me Hiccup?" she asked her brother, eyes wide as she used his family nickname. She grinned in sudden epiphany. "Are you planning something?"

Her brother gave her a look. "What would I be planning?"

"I don't know—a song?" his sister's eyes lit up as she glanced around the room for some hint of practicing, finally resting on the drawer that now held his papers. "Are you going to sing something for The Beatles' assignment? Because I think 'Michelle' is just the sweetest song and—"

"I'm not singing 'Michelle' for you Ellie," he interjected, sliding his thin frame in front of the desk while still looking firm.

The tiny freshman, however, looked uncertain. "Why not?" she asked unhappily.

"Honestly, Michelle; I'm still not feeling very lovey-brother toward you at the moment," he replied.

Michelle's expression turned frustrated. "This isn't still—"

"Yes, it is still," her brother interrupted again. He was fairly surprised at himself—he didn't usually talk this much, actually preferring to let his little sister lead the conversation. "And honestly, the fact that you're willing to act like it doesn't matter is one of the parts that bothers me the most. Katie is your teammate and your friend, and you humiliated her in front of the whole school."

"I didn't do it on purpose," she defended. "And Lindsay says—"

"And then there's the fact that you're rationalizing your actions using Lindsay's moral compass?" Everett said, cutting her off again. "What does that imply, Michelle?"

He held open the door wider, and the tiny girl stared wide-eyed. "What about my favor? It's really important Hiccup. Really important. Vital."

"Now's not the time, Michelle," he retorted curtly.

She slowly stood and skulked toward the exit. Upon reaching it, she murmured, "You never used to be this mean."

"Yeah, well."

Michelle suddenly stopped. "You know what Hiccup? I don't think you're being mean because of what I did. I think this is about you."

"Ellie—"

"No, I get that you're mad about the whole Katie thing," his little sister rambled, running with her thought. "But you never snap—not at me. And you're not up here practicing lines, or studying, or anything—" her eyebrows shot up her forehead. "It's a girl, isn't it?"

"Okay, now you're making excuses and acting crazy—out you get," Everett replied, pushing Michelle the rest of the way out into the hall and locking the door.

The doors were not soundproof, however, and could not block out the ringing tones of "Hiccup's got a crush! Hiccup's got a crush!"

The poor junior slumped back to his desk, ignoring his sister as he turned on his iPod and plugged his ears with headphones. A few moments of "Out Tonight" he reached down and opened his desk drawer, pulling out the papers he'd hastily stuffed away at his sister's approach.

It was a list—that in and of itself wasn't really unusual, as Everett always made lists of critiques, to do's, and general notes to remember. This list, however, was slightly conspicuous in what it lacked: a title, for one; and any coherent ideas. It was really just a list of attributes, things that he'd observed that apparently made someone worth noticing:

A gorgeous voice;

Good looks;

Confidence;

Charm, charisma;

A disarming smile;

All of these things Everett either had or had faked on stage at one point or another in his life. He could maybe emulate some of the characteristics, maybe make himself more noticeable to…people by drawing attention to himself. However, it was the last note, the one ended with a question mark, that Everett felt compelled to add, that he felt made the list more than just attributes; that really made a stand-out.

Funny that it would be so blatant, he couldn't help but think to himself as he read over the line again: Standout dye job?