10:13 a.m.

With each step forward, the sounds and smells of woodshop faded further into obscurity. Gone went the hard shrill of the table saw and musky scent of sawdust. In their place stood a hastily cobbled together set of swinging saloon doors. Libby halted before them and rapped her knuckles three times against the flimsy pine.

The top of Butch's head peaked over the doors. "Password?" the bulky rapscallion asked.

"Adeste Fideles," Libby meticulously repeated the pronunciation Ike had long ago taught her.

The double doors swung open, and Libby stepped into Retroville Middle School's not entirely secret saloon. Libby glanced around; nothing had changed since her last visit. The construction was shoddy all-around; she supposed this couldn't be helped considering the furniture was mostly assembled by twelve year-olds. Two round mahogany tables rested in the near corners of the room; one was being cleaned by a whistling Bolbi. Each table was flanked flanked by two currently empty chairs. Straight ahead lay the saloon's bar, behind which stood Ike Burke polishing a Glencairn glass. Save for the three employees and Libby, the place was deserted.

"Well," Ike said with an easy smile as Libby turned towards the coat rack near the door, "if it ain't my favorite buckle bunny."

Libby stared at the four different cowboy hats hanging from the rack. She selected a russet gambler, tucked her braids up, and nestled the hat over them. As it slid into place and she listened to "The Irish Rag" blaring from Ike's hidden iPod, Libby found herself easily tumbling back through time. She landed square in the 1880s, and if only for a moment her troubles were left behind in the new millenium. She tipped her hat's brim at Butch and gave a slight nod at Bolbi.

"You're singing a nice song," Libby said while approaching the bar and hopping atop a stool. "And momma does love to hear that tune."

Ike huffed in amusement and set the glass down between them. "The usual?" Libby nodded, so Ike grabbed a decanter from the shelf behind him and poured two fingers of a brown liquid. He pushed it towards Libby, who scooped it up and downed half the glass in a single gulp.

"That's ace-high prairie dew," Libby purred while slamming the glass down. She immediately cringed and released her grasp.

Ike stared in concern as she grabbed her right wrist. "You alright? Too many hours on the dusty trail?"

"Don't be addle-headed," Libby gruffly shot back. Her tone softened as she released the grip on her wrist. "Permission to drop the personas?"

"Granted," Ike said while refilling Libby's glass.

"I just spent the past two periods typing like a madwoman. I had to write our whole group paper on The Civil War since my partners got the flu. It was rough." Libby took another sip from her drink before shrugging and adding, "But I guess worse for them."

Ike frowned while wiping down the bar. "Who were your partners?"

"Brittany and Rose," Libby answered.

Ike let out a slow breath and arched his back. "I ain't no slangander, but you deserve the truth. Those gals don't have the flu."

Libby pulled the glass away from her lips at the last second. "What?"

"They spent all of second period here! They said they were the ones working like crazy since homeroom because their partner ditched. I even cut three bucks off their tab because of that sob story."

Libby watched her knuckles blanch as she squeezed the glass tight. After a long moment she set the glass down, rubbed her forehead, and mumbled, "Well ain't that a kick in the head."

Ike watched as Libby solemnly resumed sipping her drink. "Hard case coffee boilers," he finally shot back, earning a quick smirk from his friend. Yet she didn't meet his eyes, not even as he said, "You should tell the teacher if it bothers you that much."

"You're all down but nine," Libby said downing the last dregs of apple juice. She turned the glass upside down and slid it towards Ike.

He leaned on the table separating them. "Libs," he said, and Libby stared into his sunglasses. He took them off and set them atop the table. "I can offer you the same two things I have since the day we became friends. A stiff drink," he said while holding up the glass, "and a kind ear."

Libby closed her eyes and offered a small smile. "Thanks," she quietly whispered.

Ike leaned back and stared at the girl for a long moment. Then, he quietly uttered, "But I guess those two things aren't always enough."

Libby nodded and reached into her pocket. "Maybe not," she said while pulling out a five dollar bill, "but they're always appreciated. Next round's on me. Two glasses of top shelf sangaree."

Ike straightened his posture and said, "I try not to imbibe while tending post."

For the first time, frustration shot across Libby's eyes. "It's just juice, Ike." She took a calming breath before flashing a droll smile. "Bend an elbow with me."

Ike sighed and grabbed two highball glasses. "Fine. But only since you're a Simon pure gal." He turned around and stared at the shelf of juices and supplies. He grabbed a bottle of Welch's and his spice rack. Into each glass went a sugar cube, pinch of nutmeg, and large pour of grape juice. He stirred both with a plastic spoon, then offered Libby her cocktail.

"To doing what we can," Ike offered while raising his glass.

"To doing more than we should," Libby glumly said while clinking hers.

Both kids took a sip, and Libby felt Ike silently appraising her. She once more met his gaze, when their eyes locked he set his glass down. "You know what you need?" he offered. Once more, the friends effortlessly slid out of the Western era. She shook her head, so he added, "You should hit the gym."

"You calling me fat?" Libby tempered her temper, giving Ike the benefit of the doubt.

"Please," Ike couldn't keep his eyes from quickly scanning Libby up and down. "Opposite day was last Friday. I meant that it might raise your spirits more than sitting and drinking. Get the blood and endorphins flowing."

Libby considered the advice while taking another sip of juice. "Maybe," she offered after a moment.

"Just trust me," Ike said while downing the rest of his glass. "It'll work."

Libby finished her own drink and smiled at her friend. "Thanks, Ike. I think I'll give it a shot."

The easy comraderie was broken by three sharp knocks on the saloon's doors. Butch sidled over to his post and asked, "Password?"

"We don't need no stinkin' password!" Came the high pitched and nasally response. "This is the R.M.P.E.P.L.A.R.P. and we got a tip about an illegal establishment!"

Libby let out a tired sigh and asked, "What the heck is the Rimpeplarp?"

Ike immediately growled out his answer. "The Retroville Middle School Prohibition Era Police Live Action Role Players." He then turned towards the door and shouted, "You all best skedaddle. Your kind ain't welcome here!"

"And why not?" the unseen response seemed to be played at double speed.

"Becaiuse this is a Western establishment! We can't have clashing motfis! Go catch some bank robbers at the school store or something!"

"Look!" the annoyed voice shot back. "You've got twenty seconds to open the door, see? Or we're coming in shooting!"

Ike grit his teeth and unholstered the Nerf Maverick revolver on his hip. He effortlessly spun it around in the air and grabbed its barrel. "Libs," he said while offering her the butt of the weapon, "take French leave out the back and get to the gym. We'll fight like Kilkenny cats here."

"Ike," Libby moaned, "I really don't care about this right now."

Ike roughly grabbed Libby's shoulder and pulled her close; her expression didn't move an inch. "I know," he gruffly whispered. "Which is why I'm telling you to run!" he suddenly roared.

Ike reached under the counter and produced a CS-18 Rapidstrike; he tossed the rifle to Butch who immediately racked the slide. Ike then pulled out his own SledgeFire shotgun and broke open the barrel.

"Five!" the annoying voice from beyond the saloon shouted. "Four!"

Ike ensured a shell was loaded, whipped the weapon with his wrist to close the barrel, and turned to Libby. "Go!"

Libby sighed and watched as Bolbi came running out of the small back room carrying a Vulcan EBF-25. He opened the tripod and set the enormous machine gun on the bar beside Ike. "Bolbi save day!" he said while flipping the power switch and swiveling the weapon towards the door.

Libby took one last look around, shook her head, and took two steps back towards the saloon doors. As they burst open behind her, Libby sprinted towards the bar. She placed her injured wrist atop the rickety frame and vaulted over the top as whistler darts screamed past her ears.

"You're all under arrest!" Libby heard while sliding sliding underneath the shelf of fine juices.

"We ain't throwin' up the sponge!" Ike roared back as she rose to her feet before the Woodshop's rear emergency door. She kicked it open with all her strength and stumbled out into the hallway. Frenzied shouts and the sound of automatic dart fire spilled out the open door. Libby could waste no worry for those she'd left behind, for four sixth graders rounded the corner with CS-35 Tommy Guns in hand.

"Hate this school," Libby grumbled while aiming her revolver. Two shots put the first two shocked victims down. She swiveled her gun to the third girl, but her bloodcurdling scream gave Libby pause.

"Tom! Jim!" she screeched while falling to her knees. She crawled towards the nearest motionless boy and felt for his pulse. She snapped her gaze at Libby, tear-riddled mascara raining down her cheek. "They had a son!"

"Come on! They're twelve years-old!" Libby shouted back while angrily motioning at the wench.

"CPR!" the girl screamed while climbing on top of Jim's chest and pushing on his sternum. The sound of bones breaking made Libby swivel her head in shocked disgust, but this only leveled her gaze at the last girl who was breaking chicken bones in half for the sound effect.

"We are very committed to realism," the last girl explained as her friend pumped away on Jim's chest.

"I'm done," Libby dropped her revolver and hat on the ground as she strolled past the chaos.


Libby took two detours on her way to the gym. She grabbed her gym clothes from her locker, then changed inside a nearby bathroom. After glancing at her grey attire in the mirror, she splashed a handful of water on her face. "Alright, girl," she told herself while heading back to the hallway. "Sort this all out."

Libby walked up to the gym's double doors, reached out for the handle, and pulled back as they were thrown open with violent force. Libby stumbled backwards and fell onto the ground.

"Really!" Libby winced while grabbing her wrist. "You can't watch where you're going?!" she shouted while staring up at the idiot before her. Seeing Sheen as the perpetrator was a bit of a shock, but she was more surprised by the twin bloody tissues clogging his nostrils. "Sheen? What the heck happened to you!"

"Don't worry!" her boyfriend screeched while offering her a hand. They clasped each other's wrists and Sheen hoisted Libby to her feet. "I'm sure we'll find out soon!"

"What the heck does that mean?"

Sheen shook his head and then briefly clutched his temple. "Sorry, Liara," he earnestly apologized. "The nurse said I'm still recovering from a 'possible concussion'," he said with airquotes, "and an 'undiagnosed mental disorder.'" Sheen stared at Libby's sullen face and asked, "What's wrong with you?"

"That obvious, huh?" Libby asked.

"To me? Yeah!" Sheen happily answered. "So what's up, Libbalicious?"

"I was going for a run around the school," Libby motioned at her attire. "Care to join?"

"Well," Sheen tapped his chin, "I am woozy from blood loss and Coach Gruber already made me run twenty laps. But you want to?"

"Yeah," Libby rubbed the back of her neck, "but we could -"

"I'm on it!" Sheen shouted while yanking open the gym's doors and dashing inside. Libby watched him race towards the exit to the outside world and shook her head, though she couldn't quite shake the smile imbuing her lips.


The cold weather outside was a blunt shock given Libby's scant attire, but she quickly found it soothing after a few minutes of jogging. Her initial sprints had been somewhat successful in shedding her poisonous thoughts, but they had also left a struggling sheen behind. After a moment she had slowed her pace, and the two were currently stride in stride.

And here we are again, Libby thought while wiping a few drops of sweat from her brow. Libby wanting to pull ahead of the pack and getting yanked right back. Maybe I should have just stayed and defended the saloon with Ike. Libby closed her eyes in frustration as she asked herself, but that would just be more of the problem, right? So how the heck –

"You're quiet!" Sheen's frantic shout shattered Libby's thoughts.

"I guess I am," Libby answered as she led the way around the school's corner.

"Can we talk about it?" Sheen wheezed.

Libby turned towards Sheen and noticed he was dangerously out of breath. She came to a halt and barely kept herself from rolling her eyes. Sheen gasped a few lungfuls of air as Libby leaned against the school's brick wall. "There's not much to talk about," she lied. "Brittany and Rose screwed me over."

"How?" Sheen asked.

"We were supposed to finish our history project," Libby explained. "But they decided it would be more fun to ditch me and drink discounted juice."

"Huh?" Sheen inquired.

"The Woodshop Saloon," This time Libby's eyes went round and round. Annoyance boiled over to aggression as Libby said, "Get a clue, Sheen."

Libby closed her eyes so she wouldn't see the aching betrayal she knew was spreading over Sheens' face. After a second she heard his footsteps, and she watched him start to jog away.

"Hey!" Libby shouted while racing after him. "Stop!"

"What?" Sheen innocently asked while spinning around and running back towards her. "You want to run. It will make you feel better."

"Yeah, but you need to rest!" Sheen kept jogging in place, so she lurched forward and grabbed his arm. She yanked him hard, and they both tumbled against the wall.

"Libby," Sheen nervously said as she slid down to the ground. She leaned her forehead against her knees and shielded her eyes. "I want to help -"

"Just don't!" Libby's eyes brimmed with tears and she slammed them shut. Water rushed against the dam she kept closed. "Don't be like me!"

Libby's vision stayed dark as she clenched her hands into fists; her right wrist throbbed in response. After a moment of silence, she looked up to find Sheen sitting across from her. Posture reflected, he hugged his knees tight. "Libs," he stoically whispered, "it's me. What's wrong?"

Libby took a stabilizing breath. As her soul wavered, her next words kept steady. "I'm wrong, Sheen. I feel like I give so much of myself, I have nothing left of me." She noticed Sheen furrow his brow in a show of obfuscation.

Libby felt a surge of anger and went on in a mocking tone, "Sure Cindy, I'll miss a family dinner to hear you whine about your mom. No problem Brittany, I can be the one to write our five page paper. Can do, Jimmy!" she shouted in mocking elation. "I'll be late to class and lug your stupid Neutronian Time Accelerator into the basement." Searing ire bolstered her movements as she pointed at her eyes. "I came out of there this morning with crow's feet!"

Sheen's gaze nervously darted to the basement's windows; he realized that the flood waters had receded. "Um, did you turn it off?"

"That's not the point!" Libby snapped. "I feel like all of who I am is helping someone else. I need to stop it; to not be everyone's punching bag. But if I do that…am I even still me? Am I even a good person?"

Libby breathed in and out; oxygen filled her empty lungs. Then, without warning, Sheen laughed. As with Ike, Sheen had earned the benefit of the doubt. But this show of faith was waning fast. "What the hell is so funny?"

Sheen jumped to his feet and shoved a triumphant index finger towards the sky. "This is perfect timing, Libby! I just learned today that I'm weird!"

Libby clenched her teeth and rose to her own two feet. "First of all, how did you only learn that today. And second of all, what?"

Sheen excitedly grabbed Libby's shoulders and insanely smiled. "I'm weird, Libby! And Nick's cool, Jimmy's smart, and you're nice! Too nice," he clinched his diatribe with surprising serenity. "That's who we all are, but it can't be all of who we are."

Libby shook her head and rubbed her temple. "What are you trying to say?"

"I mean," Sheen went on, a snip of frustration creeping into his tone, "that we can't let one thing..." he struggled to find the right word and calmly settled on, "define us. If Jimmy's only smart, he becomes..."

Libby remembered one of Cindy's old insults. "An egotistical jerk," she offered.

"Exactly!" Sheen eagerly agreed. "And if I'm pure nonsense, I'm an annoying idiot! But if I'm just a little weird but can be other things too," Sheen once again trailed off, lacking the right words.

"Then you're an eccentric but sweet boyfriend," Libby's words warmed as she began to understand his point.

"And if you give everything you have, there's nothing left," Sheen told her. "But if you give what you can and take care of yourself, you'll only have more to offer," Sheen told her.

Libby slowly blinked; it wasn't easy to come to grip with the fact that Sheen was making valid points.

"Hey," Sheen said while touching her shoulder. She stared deep into his brown eyes, which seemed to flash with wisdom. "Do you know why I love you?"

"Yeah," she solemnly answered. She dropped her eyes and said, "Because of Jimmy's love potion."

"No," Sheen strongly said while shaking her shoulder. "Well, maybe," he admitted, and Libby narrowed her eyes. "But, I kept loving you because of how nice you were to me that day. And I keep loving you every day because, deep down," Sheen smiled at Libby, "you're the kind of person I want to be. Even if you can't see it right now, you're perfect to me."

In that moment, all of Libby's agony shattered. She felt the constant tug on her chest loosen, and felt her breaths coming easier. "Sheen," Libby smiled and hugged her boyfriend, "thank you."

"No problem," Sheen squeezed her back and smiled as she pulled away. "You know what you should do?"

"What?" Libby asked while planting a playful hand on her hip.

"Don't help anyone else today. Just do whatever it takes to be happy. And tomorrow, we'll figure out how to balance it all out. Deal?"

Libby smiled and nodded. "Deal, but on one condition. Right now, before I start all that, we do what you want to do. So what's that, Sheen?" With confidence bolstered by newly invigorated love, she placed a flirtatious hand on Sheen's cheek and leaned towards him.

"Right now," Sheen whispered while placing a hand on her waist, "I want to go back to the nurse." He squeezed her waist tight, then crumpled onto the sidewalk. "I hurt."

"Oh, no," Libby moaned while nervously looking around. With a shrug, she slung Sheen over her shoulder and headed back inside. "I'll take you there, but only if you give me that kiss later. Deal?"

Voice weak with dehydration, Sheen whispered, "Deal."