The next day was a Monday, which meant Amy was back at school. After not seeing her best friend during her first two class periods, the two sixth-grade girls finally got to meet up during the fifteen-minute break between second and third. Gathering like a majority of their classmates on the quad of the middle school campus, Amy said her compulsory, "Hey," to Brittany Thorne, a taller and more developed girl, blond and blue-eyed like her but much prettier and, for the aforementioned reasons, also much more popular, especially in recent months. "My life sucks," Amy immediately complained.

"Oh, yeah, your Dad came by for his monthly visit last night, didn't he?" Brittany said. "What lame gift did he give you this time?"

"A dummy."

"I know he is, but what did he give you?"

"A dummy," Amy repeated. "A ventriloquist's dummy."

"What the shit?" Brittany said, a perfectly logical response to that statement. "Why?"

"Because I liked Pinocchio when I was a kid."

"…So…why?"

"Exactly."

Brittany scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. "Your dad is a dummy. That's probably why he got the damn thing in the first place. Felt a connection. Tried to justify it with the Pinocchio thing."

"Didn't work," Amy said.

"No kidding." Brittany chuckled. "So, when can I see it?"

"What, the dummy?"

"Yeah, what else?"

"Why would you want to see it? I don't."

"Amy, I need a visual aid if I want to laugh at your pain."

"I'm not taking Slappy out of my closet until we're ready to sell him on eBay."

"Slappy?" Brittany said with another laugh. "You named him?"

Amy groaned and rolled her eyes. "No. You think I'd put that much effort into something I hate? He had a slip of paper with his name on it inside his coat pocket. And some weird foreign words."

"What words?"

Amy shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. Not my problem."

"Okay, now I really have to see your dummy."

"I wouldn't get your hopes up, Brittany. Not unless you plan on buying him from me."

"Please," Brittany replied with a smirk. "I'm just curious, is all. Like I'd ever blow my money on something that stupid."

"My Dad should get shopping advice from you," Amy suggested. "Maybe then I'd get some gifts I'd actually enjoy."

"Yeah," Brittany said with a nod. "But look on the bright side. At least your dad's still around to give you stuff."

Amy knew the conversation would eventually head in this direction. It always did. Any time she complained about her troubled relationship with her father, Brittany inevitably shared some perspective on how much worse it could be.

"If my Dad were still alive, I'll bet he'd know exactly what to get me."

"If your Dad were still alive," Amy said, "he'd be in prison. Besides, you have a stepdad."

"Not the same," Brittany said. "Once your mom starts dating again, you'll know. And she will. Hopefully she won't pop out an annoying little stepbrother like mine did."

Amy suddenly realized they were being watched. She and Brittany both turned to look at the boy standing near the latter, opposite from Amy. He was a decent-looking kid, brown hair, green eyes, neither particularly attractive nor repulsive, dressed in a Batman t-shirt and blue jeans. "Yes?" Amy said. She already knew why he was standing there, but politeness compelled her to humor the boy. "Can we help you?"

"Sorry," he answered, blushing. "I'm Steven. I just overheard something about prison and I got curious." He glanced at Brittany. "So what exactly did your dad do? Do you want to talk about it?"

"As if she needs to," Amy said, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. "At this point, I doubt there's a single person in Los Gatos that doesn't already know who Brittany's dad was. Including you, Steven."

Steven seemed shocked by Amy's hostility. "But…I really am just curious."

"You're only curious because she has boobs," Amy said, cutting out the middleman.

Flustered, Steven awkwardly tried to dismiss this accusation with a laugh. "What? I am not! Why would I…I mean, I didn't even notice…not until you said it. You're ridiculous."

"Uh-huh," Amy said, having progressed to simply ignoring the boy. She turned around so he and Brittany were behind her. He was Brittany's problem now; it would be her decision whether or not it was worth the time to enlighten Steven on what happened.

Despite having told the story dozens of times to just as many pubescent listeners, half of whom already knew it and the other half only interested on account of boobs, Brittany was more than willing to soak in the attention. "Okay, I'll tell you," she said to Steven.

Amy shook her head and sighed. While Brittany's family history was admittedly more exciting than most, just once Amy wished she could be the center of attention instead. Half-listening to her best friend tell the story to a joyous Steven, Amy resigned herself to waiting for the next bell to ring.