Tertiary
Acepilot

AN – Another chapter. This one was written in the open air, by hand (and while typing this in I realize why everyone tells me I need to improve my handwriting) at my favourite café in Melbourne. It was very therapeutic and I really enjoyed writing it. It is very much the "crossover" chapter as Lor's story branches out into a trip to the home of the Rugrats. I hope you like it. Please review.

Disclaimer – characters contained within are property of KlaskyCsupo and Disney Animation.

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Chapter 8
Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere
- - - -

The car seems to almost grind to a halt as we pull up outside the house. It seems so small, so unassuming. Sure, it's double-storied, but I somehow envisioned something so much...larger, more over-the-top, to have produced the Phil DeVille I've come to know.

"Home sweet home," Phil quips, looking out the window, but not turning off the ignition. I suspect this is less out of any serious desire to not go inside and moreso a desire to hear the end of the song currently on the car CD-player.

I decide to rib him a little nevertheless. "So, afraid they're gonna ground you for not visiting more often?"

He doesn't turn to face me but I can see him roll his eyes. "I just knew bringing you along was guaranteed to be a good idea."

I reach out and pat him on the shoulder. "It will be. Wait until I eventually drag you out to Bahia Bay. You'll never know what hit you."

A final crash of drums concludes the song and Phil turns the key with admirable timing. He sighs before getting out of the car, and while he thinks I'm not looking gives his wrist a quick massage. He says it's not been bothering him (he refused to let me drive, saying it would just be babying him), but I know better.

"Thanks for coming with me, anyway. I can't wait for you to meet everyone."

I consider, for a moment, what the best way to respond to that might be. I suspect that something along the lines of: of course, no worries, I can't wait either is what he's actually expecting, but it's not really the answer I want to give. To be honest, I'm scared witless. These people I'm meeting today are his family and friends – a very tight knit bunch but all accounts, and I'm not really sure how you break into that. Or even if I really want to. I've already met Lil and Kimi, obviously, but the others are just pictures in photos and voices in my mind. It intimidates me a bit. I feel like I'm meeting my boyfriend's family.

I laugh a little at that though. At least that's something I don't really have to worry about. I already know Tin's family, small as it is. And his friends are my friends anyway.

This shouldn't be so scary. They're just my best friend's childhood friends and his family. It's just a summer day, and we've decided to go meet up with them. This isn't intimidating.

It isn't.

Really.

"Of course," I hear myself say. "No problem. I can't wait to meet them, either."

8- - - - -8

The one who hates me the most, I can tell straight off, is Tommy Pickles.

We finally ventured into his house, where we were greeted by Lil and an imposingly tall and seemingly eternally youthful woman whom Phil introduced me to as his mother, Betty. Betty initially seemed to eye me a bit suspiciously, before I got into a discussion with her about caber tossing, a subject upon which she jumped with gusto.

When Phil and Lil eventually extricated me from their mother's grasp, we walked to the Java, an establishment I gather was much like the Pizza Place for us, but with the added benefit of being owned by Kimi's parents, so therefore heavily discounted. It is at the Java Lava that I met Tommy Pickles.

"Lor," Phil says to me, "this is Tommy Pickles, one of my best friends. Tommy, this is Lor McQuarrie."

He hasn't even said anything yet and I can already tell that he's not keen on the idea of me being here. There's a look in his eyes that makes me feel like I'm intruding on something private, like I've stumbled onto his turf. I wonder if Kimi has said something about me to him.

8- * - * -8

"Hey!" Kimi objects loudly.

"Kimi," Lil says, in a come-off-it tone.

"Oh, alright. But I didn't say anything to him," she insists, before slumping in her chair.

"I know," I soothe her.

"And I already know this story," Lil states. "I thought we were talking about the relevance of this dress and the ball."

"We are," Kimi tells her. "It's a bit far afield, but it ties in."

"And besides – I don't know this story," Tish cuts in. "So, continue…"

8- * - * -8

"So you're Tommy," I manage, holding out my hand to shake his. "Phil says you're a director."

He nods and shakes my hand, obviously reluctant but trying not to show it. "Yes. And what are you studying?"

"Journalism," I tell him. "Just decided on that as my major, but hey, better late than never, right? And I think I can pass that. Better than creative writing, anyway."

My god. I'm babbling. I hate babbling. When other people do it, it drives me nuts. I hate to think that I've fallen victim to one of my own pet hates. This guy just makes me so...tense, and when tense, I get nervous. And when nervous, apparently, I babble.

But then I feel a firm hand on my shoulder and all the tension just oozes out of me. I look to my side where Phil is smirking at me. "You alright there, Ginger?"

I smile. "All good, Fred."

Lil rolls her eyes. "Real original."

"There's a reason it's a classic," Phil points out.

The door to what appears to be a back room opens and Kimi appears, leading out the most painfully messy head of red hair I think I've ever seen in my life. Attached to it is a young man, with a slightly worried look on his face. I can easily imagine this being his default expression, and recognize him from photos as Chuckie Finster, Kimi's big brother.

He spots me, too, and a flash of some kind of recognition crosses his face. He covers it quickly with a polite smile. "Hi, I'm Chuckie."

I stride forward to shake his hand and it is only at this point that I realize Phil's hand is still on my shoulder. It slips away but thankfully the tension that had been plaguing me does not return. "Hi, it's nice to meet you. I'm Lor McQuarrie."

Chuckie nods before shooting a glance at Tommy. I still can't shake the feeling that Tommy would rather I weren't here, but everyone else seems happy enough.

Phil crosses the room to Kimi's side where he sweeps her into his arms in an exaggerated dip. "Oh, my darling, it's been too long."

Kimi rolls her eyes. "I saw you yesterday, bozo."

Phil, despite the ridiculousness of his pose, manages nonetheless to look affronted. "And that is not too long ago fro you? Oh my poor darling! Have you become so accustomed to my absence that –"

She lets out a defeated groan before kissing him, pushing them back to a standing position.

Over the course of this summer I have seen them together. A lot. It always amazes me how little they seem to have to work at this kind of thing. Their whole relationship – when they're together, at least – seems to come so easily to them.

I envy that.

I, however, am apparently unique in that respect. Lil makes a face, Chuckie shies away from the sight and Tommy says, "Ew. There are innocents in here, y'know."

"Lor's seen us kiss hundreds of times," Phil points out, finally breaking away from Kimi to face his accuser. "And you, my friend, are hardly what I'd call 'innocent'."

Tommy makes a noise I can only describe as a 'grump'. "Where's Dil when you need him?"

Lil, apparently feeling we're getting somewhat off-topic, deftly imposes herself between Phil and Tommy, but faces me. "So, Lor. How are you enjoying your little excursion to our neck of the woods?"

I imagine I must turn as red as a traffic light with all the attention suddenly refocusing on me. "Uh…well, it's really nice. I can see why you all loved growing up here so much." My eyes flicker around the group as they stand before me. Lil offers me an easy smile. Phil's happier than I've seen him in some time, surrounded by all his friends instead of just one or two at a time. Chuckie is smiling at me, but there's something behind it I can't quite name, while Tommy is all but glowering. Kimi's expression I know well enough to etch in stone, a mix of jealousy, happiness and uncertainty. "Phil and Kimi have told me so much about you that I feel like I know you all already."

The door swings open, seemingly of its own accord. We all stare at it for a second before hearing something that sounds a lot like a person yelling "Aiy-yai-yah-hah-yah" getting ever closer. Finally the noise reconciles itself to a young man who seems to suddenly appear in our midst, actually swinging through the open door on a long, green vine. This strikes me as wildly inappropriate for the middle of a suburban street, but I'm nothing if not adaptable.

I don't even need to try to match the new face to a photograph. "And you must be Dil."

8- - - -8

A day out with Phil's friends proves to be one of the most exhausting of my life. It puts things into a sad sense of perspective. I don't think we did anything that Tino, Tish, Carver and I wouldn't have done on a normal Saturday, but nonetheless I find myself utterly wiped out by the activities. Which means, sadly, I think I'm just getting old.

We end up back at the Java Lava at a little after five in the afternoon. From there everyone goes their separate ways, agreeing to meet up at a little after seven and head out the Arcade – my hopes had leapt that we'd be going and enjoying stiff competition on a little bit of Streeties, but Phil broke it to me that what had been an amusement arcade was now a nightclub that had – somewhat misleadingly – kept the name.

But hey, I'm up for anything. And it's been a fun day. Given me a great deal of insight into Phil as a person, that's for sure.

Dinner with Phil's family – and Kimi – proves an interesting experience. Phil's mother keeps trying to talk to me about fitness, his father keeps asking me if the food is okay, and Lil seems to be struggling to keep a straight face. She ends up being the one I converse with the most, as we share a fairly surprising amount in common.

After dinner, I find myself dragged – bodily – up to Lil's room. It's not quite as girly as I'd expected.

"Can I help you?" I ask, massaging my own shoulder where she seemingly wrenched my arm from my socket while rushing me up here.

She shakes her head. "No, I'm going to help you." She flings open her closet but shakes her head in something resembling defeat, before moving to a suitcase at the end of her bed and rooting around in it. "We can't have you going to the Arcade wearing that."

I am slightly affronted by this comment. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nothing, if you're playing basketball and shopping and…well, everything we did today. But you're all sweaty and just…not right for going out." She pulls something I can't immediately identify from her bag and tosses it on the bed, but immediately opens a second case and starts rooting through that as well.

I sigh. "I'm not wearing a dress."

She pauses in her search and looks me up and down critically. "What about a skirt?"

I throw her a glare but she just shrugs. "I don't do skirts or dresses."

"Don't knock it until you've tried it." She holds up two blouses far fancier than anything I've owned in my life. "Are you interested in my brother?"

I almost, almost say 'the left one', before I catch myself. "Am I what!?"

"I asked you if you are interested in my brother." She pushes the two shirts forward again. "Which one do you prefer?"

"I'm not interested in your brother. He is in a very happy relationship with someone I consider a friend." I pause. "The one on the right."

Lil quirks an eyebrow. "Really. That's why you're not interested."

I am puzzled by her question for a second before her meaning dawns on me. "I thought not wanting him because I'm in a relationship was obvious."

Lil clicks her tongue. "You'd look better in the other one."

I frown at her disapprovingly. "What brought this line of questioning on, anyway?"

She shrugs. "I'm just not sure what kind of shirt you look best in."

I groan in barely repressed frustration. "Not that. Phil."

She smirks at me, and I notice it is perfectly identical to the expression I've seen on Phil's face so. Many. Times. "Nothing. Just…wondering."

"Yeah, well, knock it off. I get enough of that kind of – " I decide to accentuate this bit with air-quotes, "'wondering' from Kimi. No matter how obvious things are to the contrary." I catch the blouse Lil tosses to me. "Can't two people just be friends in this day and age?"

"We'll see," Lil says, keeping the other top for herself.

8- * - * - *8

"You asked her that!?" Kimi exclaims.

"Duh," Lil drawls, "I wasn't blind, y'know."

"You guys are hardly encouraging," I tell them.

8- * - * - *8

I let Lil talk me into wearing a skirt, albeit very reluctantly. I feel like an idiot, but I guess I just look like…well, a girl.

I'm not the only one, either. Kimi is in a very pretty, somewhat 'retro' dress that I wouldn't be able to carry off in a million years. Lil I swearing a similar outfit to me but seems to carry herself much better in it. Or maybe she's just a bit better…filled out than I am. I glance down at my feet and frown, sure that the girls I'm socializing with probably can't see theirs.

Phil waves to me from the bar and I pick my way around the dance floor. He is standing there with Chuckie and a tall, waif-like girl whom I don't immediately recognize, though there is something naggingly familiar about her.

"Lor, this is Angelica Pickles."

Angelica flashes me an uncomfortably predatory grin. "Charmed."

I respond somewhat cautiously. Of all the people I've met thus far today, Angelica is the only one I'm unable to read. I can't tell what she thinks of me at all. "Nice to meet you too." This close up I can see a certain resemblance to Dil around the cheekbones and Tommy in her eyes.

Phil turns to Angelica. "Is Susie coming?"

"Yes. But she didn't say when. Just that she'd meet us here." Angelica shrugs. "Which, with her, could mean anything. She was trying to record something when I left."

"Probably won't be here until dawn, then," Chuckie comments.

"Bummer," Phil says. "Oh well."

I concur. I'm quite curious to meet Susie, Phil's great first love. Tommy aside, this has been an intriguing sort of afternoon, putting faces to the names I've heard so many stories about. I can hardly wait now to take Phil to Bahia Bay and introduce him to everyone there.

I shared this thought with him earlier in the afternoon, to which he responded, "Sure. I'll bring my crew and you bring your crew and we'll rumble. But I tell you, us Jets never say die."

I hit him over the head.

The band who had been occupying the stage at the head of the dance floor, playing some utterly unmemorable music, bid the crowd goodnight and begin to pack up. Coming up over the PA is some much better music.

Phil nudges me as we are joined by the others. "They're playing our song," he says.

I smile. For our fourth dance lesson, we had been asked to bring "one piece of 'contemporary' music with some sort of beat." Phil, naturally, had agonized over our choice of song for days before finally making his selection. So, while our classmates had filled the room with – and made us dance to – endless works from the Ministry of Sound and Sneaky Sound System and Bob Sinclair and the like – Phil and I had contributed Tom Petty and the Heartbreaker's 'Learning to Fly'.

Mrs. Hardias had wept tears of relief.

"Your song?" Kimi asks.

"Our dance song," Phil explains. "We had to learn a dance to go to it."

"You guys are taking dancing lessons?" Angelica asks, somewhat incredulously. "I've seen DeVille dance. It's not pretty. Didn't Susie have to lead at the prom?"

Phil pokes his tongue out at her. "You're just jealous we upstaged you."

Angelica gasps. "You did no such thing."

"So, do we get to see this dance, or what?"

I realize at about the same time as everyone else that we've been joined by a new voice: a tall, African-American girl has snuck up behind Angelica and I'm obviously not the only one startled by it: Angelica sloshes her drink and Dil jumps.

I recognize her instantly from Phil's photos, most notably one of him and her in formal wear, smiling broadly, his arms around her.

Susie Carmichael.

"Oh, we couldn't do it now. The song is almost over," Phil objects, leaning over to the newcomer and kissing her on the cheek.

I note, with slight disappointment, that Kimi's face bears no mask of jealousy or worry that is so frequent when Phil shows me affection.

I very nearly growl in frustration. Why is it that she's so determined not to trust me?! Does she think that little of me that I would betray my relasionship with Tino and chase after her boyfriend? Even if I was attracted to him – and while he's not someone I'd say no to a hurry, I've not so much as had a dirty dream about him – the fact is that I'm in a loving, monogamous relationship, and so is he, and I would not betray either Tino or Kimi.

"Easily enough fixed," Susie says, raising a hand toward the control booth. The music stops, and as she gestures, it starts again. "Good thing about performing here is getting in with the DJ." There are a few confused sounds from people on the dance-floor, but by and large no-one seems to complain. "Now," she turns to us, "can I see what you guys have been learning?"

My eyes scan the group critically. Tommy, staring at Lil, seems for once not to care. Chuckie looks intrigued, Susie curious, and Lil is smirking again. Angelica looks like someone with trouble to cause, but it's Kimi whose expression sticks with me: she looks unhappy with the idea, all but glaring at me.

8- * - * - *8

"I was?" she asks.

"Oh yeah," Lil says, beating me to it.

8- * - * - *8

Phil is just holding out his hand. "Shall we?"

I take it.

We've missed the intro but pick it up in the first verse, as I hear Phil count off under his breath before we start moving.

I didn't enjoy organized sports throughout our first year of university. I tried several – volleyball, netball, basketball, soccer, running, anything I could squeeze into the uniform for – but I never like my teammates, the organizers, the venues – there was always something indefinably wrong about it. Playing basketball and the like with Phil and some classmates certainly kept me in shape, but I missed the structure and inventiveness of real, competitive sport.

Dancing has been a boon in that regard. Though I don't view it as a sport, it has given me physical techniques to learn, people to be surrounded by, and though I know it's not the point, a fun sense of competitiveness, with myself and Phil trying to best the other couples.

Our technique for 'Learning to Fly' – what Mrs. Haridas as describes as our "summer climax, darlings," which had Phil and I in fits of hushed giggles – is pretty basic – we've only been going for six weeks, after all. But we've got it pretty close to down pat. I don't even step on his toes anymore. Well, almost.

Things are going fine as we approach the percussion/guitar solo bit, when I feel Phil take a deep breath and hear him start counting again – before hauling back and spinning me. This is the bit we messed up the most and I lost count of the number of times I ended up on my ass from a mistimed spin – or more frequently a missed catch. I see him and our audience watching – I learnt the hard way not to close my eyes at this point, and had a stiff elbow for a week where I ran into a wall – he's looking determined and in the brief glimpse of the others, all I can see is Susie beaming. Before I know it I'm back in his arms for a split second before he dips me, then hauls me back up and we resume a more normal dance pattern.

Mrs. Haridas would be proud.

We complete the dance without incident after this, and I feel my body sag in relief. He wraps me up in a hug and laughs.

Polite applause comes from our audience and Phil steers me toward them, still giddy and flushed from our triumph. The music finally moves on to a new song – 'Still in Love' by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (proud of me, Phil?) – but the last one is still ringing in my ears. We did it. We conquered the song, the dance, and I didn't hit the wall or the ground once.

Angelica shrugs. "Yeah. So?"

8- - - - -8

We end up back at Phil and Lil's house after the Arcade's staff begin kicking everyone out. I ask Lil if their parents are going to mind the late-night invasion, but she assures me that it's a tradition and they're used to it. Nevertheless, we're confined to the ground-floor as part of a long standing compromise.

Within minutes of our arrival, Dil has broken out an Uno deck and a game begins. For the whole day, really, I've felt very much like a scientist or something observing the sacred rituals of a long lost tribe of island people, or something. But it's during the game that I finally get sucked in to the group as a whole. I find myself laughing, joking, enjoying myself…joining in with this group of friends, who have intimidated me so much all day. Even Kimi and Tommy have their guards down now, no longer seeming agitated but laughing at my jokes and exchanging banter like old friends. I don't think is as much a reaction to me as it is to the situation, but it's an improvement regardless.

Some time later, I'm on my way back from the bathroom when I pass a painting in the hall, which almost seems to call me back for a closer look. Part of me instantly knows it must be Phil's – it's his home after all – but I struggle to relate it to the rest of his art that I've seen.

It's a beautiful study of light and shade and – though I don't pick it at first – the absence of lines, instead of showing form. It is quickly identifiable as Susie Carmichael, gazing off into the middle distance through hooded eyes, her form graceful and sweeping through the picture.

"I think the lineless thing is to do with having no limits," a voice says from behind me. Much like last time, I jump, startled.

"Damn, you're good at sneaking up on people," I tell her.

Susie shrugs. "You have to be, living with Angelica." She points to the painting. "He painted me a few times, but that was the last, after we broke up. He has this thing where he doesn't view himself as good enough for things: university, art, relationships. He saw himself as a bit of a shackle on me, which – I think – is why this painting is so…free."

I nod. "He's very self-deprecating."

"And what about you?"

I look up at her. "What about me?"

"Do you think you're good enough?"

"For what?"

"Anything."

The question gives me pause. Part of me wants to rebel at this very personal question being asked by this practical stranger, but something about Susie just begs for, rather than demands, honesty, so I'm inclined to tell her.

"I don't know yet," I tell her.

"Good answer," she tells me. "You worry a surprising amount. It's written all over your face."

I sigh. "Phil warned me about you, y'know."

She grins at me, flashing perfectly dazzling teeth. "You've definitely made quite the impression around here today. Opinions are divided."

I quirk an eyebrow and try – and fail – to sound completely blasé. "Oh?"

She reads me like a book, but ploughs on regardless. "Kimi is hugely insecure about Phil and other women in general, so don't take it personally. Lil thinks you're great, but is worried that her brother is going to fall for you, and just doesn't want to see anyone get hurt. Chuckie likes you but tension unsettles him, and Angelica just sees you as a new opportunity to cause trouble. Tommy doesn't like any newcomer to the group." She sighs. "He's really nice once he accepts you – which he's starting to – but he's always been surprisingly resistant to change."

I try to take all this in but it's a lot of information to be bombarded with in the space of thirty seconds. "And what do you think?"

She smirks. "A lot of things."

I roll my eyes. "About me."

"I knew what you meant." She begins to lead me away from the painting and back toward the lounge, but we make a quick course change and end up in the kitchen, where she starts digging around for a saucepan. "You know one thing I miss about Phil?"

A double-dozen candidates run through my mind, varying from romantic to somewhat pornographic. "No, what?"

"His cooking," she says, pulling out a giant pot triumphantly. "He was always really good at that."

"He is very good," I agree, having only really learnt that since we recently moved in together.

She reaches into the fridge and retrieves a three-litre bottle of milk and a block of milk chocolate. She pours the milk into the pot and lights the stove. I watch with an quiet interest, looking at her in a new light: Phil has always referred to her as this brilliant creature who he connected with in a very unique way, which has, I guess, blocked me from thinking about her just as a regular person.

"What was it like, being his girlfriend?" I hear myself ask.

She looks over at me, with an eyebrow raised in surprise, but doesn't comment on my question. Instead, she just answers it. "It was really great, actually. Not ever destined to be a long term thing, I don't think – well, obviously, really - but it was…nice. We've all been friends since childhood, but it was while we were in high school that Phil and I fell in with the same crowd. I was a musician, he was a painter, we kind of started hanging out together with all the 'art' kids." She looks wistful for a moment, remembering old times. "He was just so…free, and fun, and that was something I think I'd forgotten about, especially as the end of high school got nearer and nearer. Then one afternoon, after school had let out, we were hanging out in the Art Cottage…"

The look on her face becomes positively rapturous.

"But anyway, we knew it would never last. But we were good for each other – he made me relax and feel…worshipped, which is never a bad thing. And I guess I kicked his ass into gear and got him to pass everything, which I like to think helped him to get to where he is today. I think I also gave him the confidence to go after Kimi."

"And he gave you the confidence to go after what you wanted?" I ask.

She grins. "Oh yeah."

As she starts breaking the chocolate up into the saucepan, my mobile rings, surprising me slightly. Part of me wonders who could be calling me at this hour of the night, but then I look out the window and see the sun rising not that far off, indicating that it's a lot later than I thought.

The caller ID says "Tino" and I feel a trickle of guilt through my guts. I was meant to call him when I got home last night. But I guess I never did.

I answer. "Hey, T."

"Hey," he says, sounding blessedly neutral. "I was getting kind of worried."

I sigh. "Sorry, man. We're still at Phil and Lil's – we didn't get in until really late."

"We?" he asks, sounding now a little worried.

"Yeah, all of Phil's friends are here," I tell him. "Kimi and Lil and everybody."

"Did you have fun?"

"I did, actually," I say. "It's been an experience."

Now it's his turn to sigh. "I wish you'd called me."

"I'm sorry," I repeat. "Time just got away from me, I guess."

"I worry," he tells me, somewhat unnecessarily. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"I know, Tino," I remind him, using his full name for emphasis. "But I can take care of myself, y'know."

There's silence for a moment, before another sigh. "I miss you."

I ache for him, a little. "I miss you too."

"You sound tired, Lor. I'll call you back later, if you want."

Part of me wants to say that no, I'll talk to him now, don't call back later, but then I realize that I don't really have anything to say to him right now. This concerns me – I've never had the desire to not talk to him before, and it worries me that I might be happier leaving it until later. Technically I've got so much to tell him – about all the people I met, about dancing with Phil, about the Java Lava – but I can't quite find a way to tell him when I know he doesn't really want to know about Phil, but about me.

"Okay, maybe that's a good idea," I agree. "I'll call you back when I've gotten some rest."

"Okay. I love you."

I breathe deeply. "I love you too."

There's a beep, and the phone goes silent.

Susie is looking at me with concern in her eyes, but doesn't say a word.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, yet again, and turn to see Phil with a grin on his face. "We were wondering where you two got to. Is that hot chocolate, Suse?"

Her face instantly morphs into a smile and she nods. "Yes. But don't shout it out or they'll all want some."

Phil isn't listening, though, instead turning me around with a hand on my other shoulder. "You all right there, Ginger?"

I consider, for a moment, all the things I want to say to this. What he wants to hear is, All good, Fred, but I don't know if that's what I want to say. I am not quite sure what is going on between me and my boyfriend. I am trying to convince everyone I know that I have no sexual interest in my best friend. I am trying to be proud that my dancing is coming along so well. I am tired, and I want to sleep, but I also don't want to stop having a great time with these people. I want to say all these things, but I don't.

"All good, Fred," I tell him, bringing a smile to my face.

8- * - * - *8

"Alright. Another bit of the puzzle falls into place," Tish says. "Why didn't you tell me you and Tino were fighting that early?"

"We weren't fighting," I tell her. "It was just…just stupid stuff. End of the fireworks stuff. Besides, you know we got back together in the end."

"Yeah. I know," she says. "But that's what led to the ball?"

"Pretty much…yeah…"

8- * - * - * -8

To be continued. Please review.