Toby was hot. Why his mother insisted upon him wearing this wretched outfit he didn't know; most of the other people in the theatre were wearing softer things, and in his eleven year-old mind it was simply ridiculous that he wear a suit to his sister's play. Karen had let him go alone at Sarah's insistence, and for this Toby was glad. He didn't exactly hate his mother, but she was completely overwhelming and embarrassing, and would have made a spectacle of herself with him there. Besides, she had already seen it opening night, and had made him stay home with a baby sitter, which he felt he was far too old for.

The lights in the theatre flashed and the people around him started taking their seats and the voices grew softer, and he looked around in the dimming lights at the hundreds of faces all eagerly awaiting his Sarah. He had stayed at her house when she was still learning the play, so he knew some of the lines, and Sarah and Pat sometimes talked about it at dinner whenever they came over. In general Toby thought that the play by itself was pretty good, but Sarah made it the best. The lights in the room were now dark, and the lights on the large stage drew up and illuminated a simple setting. Sarah was sitting at a desk, writing something, dressed in a pretty pale blue dress and black shoes. Her hair was pinned up behind her head, and she was stunning. The action of the scene began and Toby sank backwards into his seat, enjoying the emotion of her character, and the humor that she managed to give the serious character.

At intermission Toby managed to push his way backstage amid the throng of people eager to see a glimpse of Sarah, as he had been backstage with her before, and wandered his way toward her dressing room. The air was stifling back here, probably from all the lights, and the bodies pressed together trying to get makeup and hair done, the director was calling out for someone and the din of the actors was a simple buzz rather than overkill. The throes of people were louder than the actors, which Sarah always said was because actors are supposed to be quiet backstage. Even the fans that were running to circulate air were quiet. He knocked on her door.

"Come in." He heard her call softly, and he opened the door a crack and stuck his head in.

"Sarah, is it all right for me to…" He couldn't even finish his sentence when he saw Sarah sitting in front of her mirror, her face long and quiet. He slipped into the room quietly and pulled a folding chair next to hers. The lights on the mirror cast a pale, yellow glow all around her and lit her features up, but he could tell her face was ashen. He reached out for her hand and she met him half-way, and it was clammy.

"I don't feel so well Toby," she murmured, using the back of her left hand to deftly pat at the corners of her mouth. He let go of her hand and leaned forward in his chair, his anxious, bright eyes peering over the dimmed green in hers, and touched her forehead with the back of his hand, as their mom had done to him when he was younger. She wasn't warm, but still didn't feel right.

"Do you need a doctor, should I tell the direct-"

"No, Toby." Her voice was firm but gentle, and she looked up at him, and reached out and hugged him, holding his stiff suit against her cheek. When she let go he had a little smudge of her makeup on his jacket and she laughed, the sound of it like a tinkle of small shards of glass against one another. A wet towelette was retrieved from one of the drawers and she patted at the stain delicately, but her hands stopped and she looked up at him again.

"I'm fine, really. I've just been sick, is all. Probably bad mayonnaise from the pasta." Her eyes sparkled a little, very faintly, and Toby saw his sister slowly coming back. "You know, I've always been sure that the caterer has been jealous of me and planned for me to get so sick I can't go on." She smiled faintly and winked.

"The old hairnet lady?" Toby said, eyes wide, feigning innocence. He loved playing along with Sarah, always had, and this little invention was a sure sign that whatever it was had to be passing. "I'm sure she's at least in on it… I've seen the way the assistant director glares when you nail your lines perfectly." He sat back down, and Sarah went about touching up her makeup, smiling more broadly now.

A few moments passed in silence and Toby fidgeted, gazing at the clippings of Sarah on the wall, the images of her mom on her mirror, the many brushes and containers of creams and powders required of an actress. He felt awkward just sitting there, not saying anything, so he stood up and went to the small table in her room lined with water bottles and fruit, and picked up a bunch of grapes, and turned around, popping a few into his mouth. He chewed and watched Sarah gaze at him through her mirror, and she smiled directly at him now, and he smiled back. It was moments like these that he always treasured between the two of them.

"You're doing really good out there," he told her coming back to his chair, and was about to sit down when a voice came over the intercom, announcing that intermission was almost over and people should find their seats again. "Break a leg," he called as he made for the door instead, giving her a reassuring look as he slipped through the door again. He stopped short on second though and turned, about to go back in, but instead caught sight of Sarah hunched over her dressing table. He watched her from a crack in the door, and she buried her head in her hands, and stifled a cry.

There was something wrong, at least, something in her heart that she didn't want to share with him. She had a few things like that, but it never bothered Toby much. His mom said sometimes older sisters have secrets that they don't like to talk about, and it was rude to try and ask. Then again, his mom also kept Sarah's old room locked, and hid the key. There was something about Sarah that frightened her, he thought, or something in that room that frightened her. Sarah didn't seem to mind it at all and never spoke of it, but when Sarah had moved out she seemed upset that her room had been locked up, but that had been the end of it. There was something darker going on that Toby could feel, something that Sarah didn't want to talk about just now. He felt also that the answer was probably in her old room somehow, but just how he couldn't quite place, like a half-remembered dream.

He squeezed his way back into the theatre and down to his seat just as the intermission was over, but couldn't focus on the play for the rest of the night, his mind broken by the thoughts of Sarah crying as he left the room. Had he upset her, or was she just sick, or..? The thoughts plagued him one after the other, and as he tried to rationalize it, it just made things worse. He gave up toward the end of the play and decided to just go home instead, and call Sarah in the morning to find out if she was feeling any better. He knew that trying to reach her after the show would be impossible, since the media would want a piece of her, and then Pat would come and they would go for dinner together and go home.

The end of the play came and the curtain call was marvelous. Sarah was tossed a lovely bouquet of flowers and she blushed when she caught them. Toby was proud of her and clapped louder than anyone around him. He left the theatre for the main hall just as the cast was emerging from backstage to meet and greet, and he turned to go meet his father, who he could was waiting for him. Suddenly, he heard his name called above the din of cameras snapping and flashing and people gushing about the show. He turned and saw Sarah standing there, smiling, flushed and finally full of color. He ran to her open arms and hugged her, glad she had called for him, and the people around them cooed and awed over the reaction. He was about to pull away but found her arms locked around him, unwilling to let him go.

"Toby," she whispered into his ear. "I feel better now, don't worry about me."

She let him go then, and kissed him on his cheek; but as the crowd surged in around her and before he lost sight of her, she had a sad smile on her face, like one of the poetic stars of a black and white movie. He stared after her as long as he could, until he heard his father's voice behind him telling him to get a move on or traffic would be awful.

On the ride home, Toby gazed out the window and thought about how clammy Sarah's hand had felt in his, and why she had cried again when she thought he had gone, and her reassurance after the play. He might have been young, but he couldn't be fooled so easily as one might think. Sarah was sad about something, or at least her mind was occupied by something, and he would have to figure out what. He was still set on calling her in the morning and finding out about how she was, and hoping that she would reveal something to him, either in her voice, or just by telling him. He hated not knowing what was going on, and he fell asleep that night wondering what could bring his sister down like this.

The morning broke early for Toby and he raced out of bed and downstairs, trying to get to the phone before his mom or dad were awake since it was a Sunday and they were both off of work. To his great and eternal surprise and delight, his parents were already up, and Sarah and Patrick were nonchalantly drinking coffee across from them at the dining room table as though it were natural for them to be there so painfully early.

"Sarah!" It was hard for him to contain his joy at seeing her, and how much more improved she seemed from last night. Perhaps it had just been jitters; the audience was rather large last night after all. Maybe it was food poisoning, and she hadn't been just making it up. At either rate, his favorite person in the whole world was there and she got up and picked him up in a hug.

"Hey there you little rascal." Her hair brushed down on the top of his head and she looked down into his very dear, bright, childish eyes. "I've got a surprise for you," she said, kissing the top of his head and pulling his face back to look at him.

"Finally," Karen said impatiently. "Toby, she's been going on and on about whatever it is and wouldn't say a word of it until you were here. Go on," the older Williams woman crooned gently. "Do tell us."

Sarah turned a few shades of red and sat down at the table next to Pat, who beamed at her and took her hand in his. Toby, still in his pajamas, took the seat opposite her and simply stared at the two of them, waiting for one of them to break. Sarah looked from Toby, to Pat, to her father, then back to Toby.

"Well?" Toby's voice was groggy from sleep and dry from need of water, and his eyes were still puffy. His short, scruffy hair was crumpled from his pillow and lopsided on the left from a terrible cowlick.

"Well," Pat started, his voice soothing and cool. "I couldn't actually believe it myself at first, but…" He glanced at Sarah, unsure what to say next. Sarah's gaze was calm and almost steely when she looked up from her hands at Toby, and her gaze unsettled him slightly. What was going on with her?

"I just found out this morning, actually," she said simply, crushing her fingers with her thumbs. "But… Pat and I are going to have a baby."

Toby sat back, dumbfounded, as his parents exploded with joy at the news of their only daughter going to have a baby. That would explain why she was sick, but why had she been so sad? What was going on with her that gave her that far-away look in her eyes that she reserved for her stories? The change was so subtle that neither Robert nor Karen seemed to notice it, but Toby looked at Pat then, who was gazing at Sarah with the same concern Toby was feeling, though perhaps Pat knew more than Toby did. For as much as Sarah shared with Toby, for as much as he knew about her, she still reserved some things completely for herself. What he would give to understand her better.

That is when the genius struck Toby and he nearly fell out of his chair with excitement. It was though lightening had struck him. Her diaries, of course! Sarah had always kept everything close to her in writing, in her journals. He'd have to manage to sneak it away from her house, somehow, and return it after reading it without her noticing it was missing… yes, that would explain what was really going on. It would only happen if he managed to warrant an invitation to spend the night, though with the baby coming he doubted that such nights would last much longer.

"Toby?" Sarah was looking at him inquisitively, and Toby jerked himself out of his thoughts. Her expression surprised him; she was concerned. "You all right?"

"Yeah, fine, a little shocked is all," he said slowly, thinking of his words carefully. "I guess I can't be the baby forever, right?"

It was this that in turn gave Sarah a mild form a shock, and her face fell into a solemn place that Toby couldn't read. Karen and Robert, who had been talking with Pat, fell quiet and stared at Toby, when Karen cleared her throat loudly and urged Toby off to get cleaned up so he could spend some real time with the family. As he was shooed away from the table, his mind was buzzing. What had he said that had upset everyone so much? About not being the baby anymore and all? As he went up the stairs he caught little snippets of the hushed conversation, no, lecture Karen was giving to Sarah, demanding to know if Sarah had ever told Toby about what happened 'that night' and if she had ever 'talked' in front of him…

Utterly confused Toby resigned to the shower, and, determined little spirit that he was, thought about what it was that upset his mother into scolding Sarah, and what was going on. He had the sinking feeling that Sarah being upset and his mom being upset was somehow tied together, and using his little keen mind as he let the hot water dampen his tousled hair he tried to put two and two and two together, but still only came out with five. What had happened when he was a baby, could it be tied to why Sarah was acting so strange, even if she was pregnant? He knew his mom and dad would never tell him, so he turned back to his plan of reading Sarah's diary, but as he dried off and dressed, he devised to read further back, to the start of everything, and catch himself up to speed before he went prowling through his sister's house for her most kept secrets.

After all, what harm ever came from reading a book?