"Come on, Isabella," Gretchen said in an imploring tone. "Just go up and ask him. I'm pretty sure you're overstating the risks here."

Isabella shook her head, flashing strobe lights casting multicolored shadows across her hair.

"I can't afford to take that chance," she replied. "The stakes are too high."

She stared out across the dance floor to the red-haired, pointy-nosed object of her affection, the ten feet of rubber floor between them seeming as wide as the Grand Canyon. He took a sip of punch, then burst out laughing at a joke Baljeet had made.

She sighed dreamily. Phineas was so cute when he laughed, especially when it made his drink come out his nose...

"Isabella!" Gretchen's voice brought Isabella back to the real world with a start.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed. "I was in Phineasland..."

Now it was Gretchen's turn to sigh.

"Look, Isabella," she said. "You can't keep doing this if you really want to be with Phineas. You're not going to get a date if you don't ask for one, and you're not going to get many dances if you don't make the first move. It's not like he's going to turn you down if you ask."

"I know, I know," Isabella replied. "I just... I know the odds of being turned down are miniscule at best, but if the risk is there, I just can't take it. I think about him turning me down, and I... I feel like a part of me dies inside."

Gretchen rolled her eyes.

"Look," she said, deciding to change tactics. "You've been the leader of our Fireside Girl troop, what, seven, eight years?"

"About that, yeah," Isabella said.

"And in that time, you've never led us wrong," Gretchen continued. "Not just because you're a good leader, but because you listen to the rest of the troop- if one of us has a good idea, you're smart enough to follow it.

"So now, I'm going to give you a good idea: Ask. Him. To dance."

Isabella turned to her friend and put a hand on her right shoulder.

"Gretchen," she said solemnly. "You're trying to use logic. With an emotional teenager."

"You were fine with it at the last dance!" Gretchen exclaimed angrily.

"That was different!" Isabella protested. "He asked me that time!"

"Yeah, so you know he likes dancing with you. It's not any different if you ask him."

"But it... but it is."

Gretchen rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, obviously frustrated with Isabella's reticence. Then the music playing changed, from an upbeat pop tune to a slower one. Gretchen looked up at the change and cast a glance towards Isabella, one with a hint of deviousness that she didn't quite like.

"You know what that is?" she said. "It's an omen."

"... What do you mean?" Isabella replied apprehensively. "We just went over this- I'm too emotional and hormonal to ask Phineas to dance."

Gretchen shook her head.

"Then there's only one thing I can say to you, Fearless Leader-" Gretchen grabbed Isabella's arm and started pulling her. "And that's 'you'll thank me later.'"

"Hey!" Isabella protested. She scrabbled desperately at Gretchen's grip, but she was helpless against someone with the Vulcan Everywhere-Grip patch. She felt an odd mixture of pride and mortal terror, but mostly just terror.

As they approached Phineas's loose group, Isabella stopped struggling and put on a smile, hoping not to embarrass herself too badly. She walked a little forward of Gretchen (who still didn't let go of her arm; she probably would have fled if she had) and greeted them with a call of "Hey, guys!"

The four of them looked up at her greeting, and each reciprocated in their own way- Phineas with a responding call of "Hey, Isabella!", Baljeet with a raised hand of acknowledgement, Buford by crunching his punch cup together and tossing the liquid in it behind him (she wasn't quite sure what that was about), and Ferb just by looking at her. He made it work somehow.

"So, um," Isabella began, trying to ignore Gretchen's tight grip on her arm (though, again, without it, she probably would have ran for the door). After a moment spent willing the words out of her mouth, she finished, so fast it almost in one word, "Doyouwanttodancewithme?"

"Sure!" Phineas replied. Gretchen released Isabella's arm, then gave her a tiny, almost invisible push in the direction of Phineas. She barely managed to keep from giving a squeal of surprise as she stumbled forward and fell into Phineas's arms.

"Eager to get started, huh?" she heard Buford snicker as she straightened herself with as much dignity as she could muster. Just before moving onto the dance floor, she turned and shot Gretchen an angry glare.

All she got in response was a mouthed "You're welcome."

The music was suitably slow and romantic, she was all of six inches from Phineas, and he seemed to be enjoying the dance almost as much as she was. All in all, she decided she owed Gretchen an apology.

As the song changed to another, still slow-paced tune (they'd been dancing for a while now), she decided it might be time for some small talk.

"So," she began, seeming to startle Phineas out of a dance-induced reverie. "How's your perpetual motion machine coming?"

For Physics this year, all the students had to do a special project, and Phineas had asked to build a "free energy accumulator." Mr Jenkins had just laughed at him (he was new), but said that if he managed it, he would give him a 200% in the class. None of the other students doubted Phineas's ability to finish the project, and the day for project judging was hotly anticipated just to see Mr. Jenkins's reaction to the finished project.

"Well, it's not technically a perpetual motion machine," Phineas replied, as he always did when asked about the project. "It actually draws on the quantum fluctuations of the fabric of space-time to control a fusion reaction and then disassemble the reaction products back into hydrogen. So it's really more like a fusion reactor that can reuse its fuel."

Isabella let out a sigh as Phineas launched into a detailed description of his project. She loved to listen to him talking technical.

But as he kept talking, she caught a glimpse of something behind his head. She craned her neck just a bit to get a better look (Phineas seemed too engrossed in his explanation to notice).

A panicked-looking man in a hastily-donned trench coat was talking to one of the chaperones. He kept looking around at the students, but quickly, like he was trying to make sure he wasn't being noticed, but trying not to do it in a conspicuous way. As the motion of the dance slowly pulled Isabella around, she caught a glimpse of blue under the crooked trench coat- a policeman's uniform?

Then she was back where she'd started, with Phineas between her and the possible policeman, just as he was finishing off his explanation with "But it hasn't ripped apart the very fabric of the universe yet, so I think I'm doing well." Then he realized Isabella's concentration wasn't all there, and turned to see what she was looking at. Now the chaperone had her hands clapped over her mouth, her eyes big as dinner plates.

"That guy just ran in here and started to talking to Mrs. Harding,," Isabella explained as Phineas stopped dancing. "I think we should go check it out."

Phineas nodded. "Mrs. Harding's been an elementary school teacher for fourteen years. Anything that can scare her must be really something."

They were both silent as the distant conversation seemed to conclude. Mrs. Harding went to talk to one of the other chaperones, as fast as she could manage without looking panicked, while the police officer ran back out the exit.

Phineas followed the man's progress with his gaze, then turned to Isabella and asked "Isn't there a rule against students leaving the school during a dance?"

Isabella grinned.

"You read my mind," she replied, as they started towards the door.