No relationship is perfect.

No matter how in love you both are, there are bound to be some disagreements. If one person always caves when these issues arise, the relationship will quickly fall apart.

The easiest way to win an argument is to avoid one in the first place. You can do this by showing respect for your significant other's opinions, even if you think she's wrong. Never say, "You're wrong." (And if you do happen to be wrong, admit it quickly!)

It's best to let her do most of the talking. Let her think your idea was actually hers.

The best negotiators try honestly to see things from the other person's point of view and express sympathy for others' ideas, opinions, and desires.

Chapter Twenty One

So now I had one more reason to hate Mark Finley.

It was his best friend who wanted to hold the rager in the observatory. It was his girlfriend who cornered and coerced Steph into getting everyone in.

And Mark Finley?

Well, he kissed Steph.

I drove home in a semi-blind rage. It would have been a fully blind rage, except for the fact that I actually needed to be able to see the road.

I saved the blind part for when I was inside.

How was I going to stop them?

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Steph said.

Great. Again with the delusions.

"Yeah, this is kind of weird. I'm sure they have pills or something for it."

Just what I need: a pill addiction on top of psychotic tendencies.

"So, Crazytop," I said, deciding to work with what I had. "How to you propose that I stop you?"

She thought for a moment before saying, "Jason, who do I love the most in this world? Besides you, of course."

"Um. I don't know. Your grandpa?"

"Yep. So do you really think I'm going to go through with it?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Well, then. Do you remember when we were in Little League together?"

"Yeah…?"

"Hit a triple with Mark Finley's head. I don't want them touching one thing in that observatory."

"Uh, I don't think I still have that tiny bat. But thanks for the suggestion."

"Well, you have to do something! What about—hey, didn't you go golfing with my Grandpa a few weeks ago?"

"Yes?" I didn't see where she was going.

"Use your shiny new golf club, Hawkface."

I smiled wryly. "Alright, and then what? Then what happens when I've maimed or seriously injured your new friends?"

"Then I come running back to your arms?"

"No, Crazytop. Then you yell at me and say you hate me and you never talk to me again."

She looked at me sadly. "I could never hate you, Jason. The last few days have been awful without you."

I walked over to my bedroom door and started to leave. "Bye, Steph," I whispered.

And then I left.

Grandma intercepted me on the way downstairs. She hugged me fiercely. "Oh, Jason. I love you so much. I am so proud of you!"

All this crying lately. Weddings really do that to people.

"Love you too, Grandma," I choked out, almost smothered by her hug. "Can't wait for tomorrow."

And I actually couldn't. Because tomorrow, all of this observatory/rager business would be over, one way or another.

Plus, you know, wedding day. Big happy fun time with the family.

She let me go, mumbling something about getting ready to go to bed, and I waved goodnight.

Then I went to the garage to find my completely unnamed golf club.

Well, okay, I named her. Sue me.

Her name is Bertha.

Well, Big Bertha.

But she's super solid and I had no doubt that she could take a nice sized chunk out of any A-crowder's head.

No matter how big his ego happens to be.

It didn't take me too long to find her, and I loaded her up in the back of The B (I really need to stop naming all of my objects after women, because the sentence "I loaded Big Bertha up in the back of The B" had some serious issues), along with some other essentials, and drove off to the observatory to meet my destiny.

Or my doom, if you want to look at it that way.

I got there just as the last of the workmen were leaving.

"Hey, Jase! What up, man?" called Professor Reski, head of Indiana University's astronomy department, current overseer of all things Bloomville Observatory, and, strangely, a hippie.

"Not much, just wanted to…see the stars," I finished up lamely. Especially since it was only beginning to start getting dark.

The professor, however, saw nothing wrong with this. "I feel you, man. The stars are gonna be trippin' tonight. Who knows? You might even see a meteor or two; sometimes the meteor showers have a few stragglers. It might rain, though, so don't get caught in it, man."

I smiled, trying not to laugh. "Okay, sir."

Then the professor left and his grad students left and the decorators left and it was just me. All alone.

The observatory was huge and empty.

But most importantly, it wasn't trashed.

Yet.

I turned off all the lights, finding a place where I would be out of sight until the last possible second, which would give me and Big Bertha the element of surprise. I chose the telescope pier, because, well, I could see the night sky while I waited.

It might be the only time the observatory was used the right way. I owed it to Steph's grandpa.

Then, I broke out the Funyuns and waited for something to happen, checking for meteors every so often.

At exactly 10:34 P.M., I heard the code being tapped in and the door opening.

At 10:35, Steph walked in.

She didn't see me.

At 10:37, Steph started pacing and mumbling.

At 10:42, there was a knock at the door.

It was showtime or doomsday, but either way, it was happening. Now.