A/N: AbbieDee, I have indeed seen the newest episodes (I might have more to say about this later). I have to say that it was a bit surreal seeing those two spend that much time together and getting that deep with each other, especially since that's where I have to be every time I bang on the keyboard to create a scene with them. And thanks for the comment on the adults!

Also, a thank you to SpongeGuy for your honesty as well as the kind things you've said.

Chapter 25

Respect

"Mind if I follow you for a couple of minutes?"

The school day was over. Fern had been exiting the building when she was caught off guard by Buster, who had apparently been standing by the front doors, waiting for her.

"At least you're asking this time," she said with a smirk. "Don't forget, parents' night is tonight."

"I know. This won't take long."

She nodded as they took off in the direction of Fern's house. After taking a few steps, Buster began.

"So…my parents had a talk with me the other night and—get this—they're going to grief counseling together, starting next week."

Fern could not help but feel a surge of happiness at the news, which was punctuated by just how happy Buster looked at delivering it.

"For Byron? That's—that's great, Buster. That's huge for your mom."

"Yeah. You know, I didn't think it could get any better for us, but maybe it can."

"Thanks for telling me."

"I thought you deserved to know. You're being punished because of me, after all."

Fern shook her head.

"Still haven't been officially punished yet."

"Really? Weird. You're the reason this is happening, you know. That things are looking up for the Baxters' future."

Fern could feel herself beginning to blush.

"I think maybe you're giving me a bit too much credit, Buster."

"No way. You carried the investigation. I know that."

"But you're the one who figured it out."

"And you pushed for answers when I was too scared. If we hadn't found out all that stuff from Harper; if Mom hadn't caught me with the album; if Dad hadn't shown up; if I hadn't gotten tired of all their lies… None of this would be happening. Maybe Dad would still be here in Elwood City, but he and Mom would still be living a lie. It's all because you said I deserved answers."

"I guess we sort of needed each other, or else it wouldn't have worked out."

"Heck yeah. We made a good team. But…you risked a lot to help me and you took a major hit for it. And I never even thanked you. So, thank you, Fern."

"It was my pleasure. Literally."

They shared a laughed.

"Oh, and I got you something."

Buster plopped his school bag on the sidewalk and opened it.

"Please tell me it's not a contract from Little, Brown," said Fern cautiously.

"No, but I hope you like it," he said looking up at her.

He smiled as he handed a book to her.

"I took some great advice from a friend and went for something more low key."

Fern looked at the book and was immediately confused.

"Money, Mistresses, Mayhem, and Me…" she murmured. "The Cobb Patterson memoir?"

"Ah, whoops!" Buster said. "Grabbed the wrong book… Here! This is the one," he said, trading tomes with her. "This is the author you were telling me about, right?"

"Storyteller's Journey: My Twisted Tale of Life as a Writer by Stephanie Bachman. I've never heard of this one."

"The clerk at the bookstore suggested it for fans and for people who love writing. You fit both categories, so I thought you might find it interesting. Bachman sounds like a pretty cool lady. She plays in a band with some other authors, she rides a motorcycle, and she bakes her own bread."

Fern felt a twinge in her chest. Her eyes stung a little, but she would not break down again.

"This is really cool, Buster. Thank you."

Their friendship was still on the mend, and Fern was at a loss for what to say next. Before she could decide, however, she was interrupted by someone shouting her name.

"Hey, Fern!"

As the car rolled up near where she and Buster stood, Fern could see that it was Allison hanging out of the passenger window, hailing her, with Omar behind the wheel.

"Hey, that's the clerk who sold me the book!" Buster said, pointing at Allison. "Do you know those guys?"

"They're members of the Wordsmiths."

Omar parked on the curb. Both he and Allison exited the car and strolled over to them.

"Hi, Fern," Omar said.

"Hi, Omar, Allison. This is my friend, Buster."

They all exchanged waves.

"I've dealt with this one a couple of times before," Allison said to Fern as she pointed at Buster. "I bet you're the friend he's been buying all the books for. Got a minute?"

"Only a minute," said Fern. "I, um… Parents' night is tonight, and I have to get home in plenty of time."

She knew she sounded as sheepish as she felt, having to explain this to a couple of college kids.

"We're glad we found you," said Allison. "So you've really left the group, huh?"

"Yeah."

"No chance you'll change your mind?"

"Sorry. The Wordsmiths sounded like a fun idea, but Lucas is a bit much for me."

"Sometimes he's a bit much for all of us, to be honest. That sucks. We hate to lose you."

"Yeah," Omar said. "Just so you know, we never thought you were bad or anything. It's just Lucas—we've never seen him act like that before. We were all pretty stunned; after the meeting, it was all anyone could talk about."

"We had coffee after with Tamara and her girlfriend," Allison said. "You should have seen her go off."

"Trust, that man's wife hates him," Omar supplied. "That's what she said. She was so angry. She said that Lucas must be high if he thinks your writing's terrible."

"That, or he's jealous that a fourteen-year-old girl is a better writer than he is," said Allison. "None of us really got to say our piece on your submission. Seriously, Lucas can be such a blowhard."

"Right," said Omar. "But the good thing is that, for a blowhard, he's been pretty quiet lately. After you left, Smitty took Lucas aside and talked to him, called him out on the way he treated you. He's been subdued ever since."

"It's been kind of nice. Well, anyway, we like your stuff a lot, and we're glad we got to talk to you in person. It would suck if you let someone like our illustrious leader set you back. Feel free to PM us if you ever want to talk shop."

"Only constructive criticism, we swear. No lofty BS."

"Wow. Thanks, you guys," said Fern. "Sure. I—I might do that sometime."

They all said their goodbyes before Allison and Omar headed back to the car. As Fern watched them drive away, she heard a chuckle from behind. She turned to Buster, who sported a wide grin.

"Told you so," he said before making an exaggerated and comical turn on his heel and headed toward his home, singing, "R-E-S-P-E-C-T…"

It was parents' night at Mill Creek Middle School, the theme of which was "Welcome Autumn". The evening had kicked off with a short assembly in the auditorium. Principal Brooks gave a short speech before handing the stage over to the drama club. The small group performed a short skit they had written about the exciting and fun fall activities in store for MCM as well as reminding the parents that there were still volunteer positions available for various fundraisers. ("We've got sign-up sheets here tonight. Look for the kiosk located near the free refreshments!") Afterwards, families were free to tour various classrooms or visit the cafeteria for hot chocolate and homemade pie.

"I can't believe that closet was locked," Buster said as he and his parents headed back into the main hall, returning from an unsuccessful trip to the band room. "I really wanted to show you my new mascot costume."

"We can wait until a there's a game to see it, hon," his mother said.

"Yeah," said his father. "There's no rush."

"Yo, Baxters!"

Francine Frensky hopped in front of them, raising her camera to look through the viewfinder. Her hair was swept up into a ponytail, an unusual sight.

"Say 'cheese', you guys."

Almost reflexively, all three Baxters huddled together, smiling happily before the flash.

"Awesome," said Francine, and she was bounding off to find her next subject, ponytail swaying from side to side. "You guys are naturals!"

"That was Francine, right?" said his father.

Buster nodded.

"You'll get used to stuff like that. Let's go get some food."

"Why don't you boys go ahead," said his mother. "I'll join you in a sec."

When Bitzi caught up with Francine, she was near the front office, taking a picture of Arthur, who stood next to the "Welcome Autumn" banner.

"Try to act like you give a crap about this night," she was saying to him as Bitzi approached.

"Francine?" she said.

"Yeah?" the girl said, turning around. "Oh, hey, Mrs. Baxter."

"May I talk with you? I can see you're busy, so I'll be quick."

"Okay, I guess…"

The girl sounded unsure, but took a few tentative steps toward Bitzi. It seemed that Francine thought she might be in trouble.

"I love what you've done with your hair, by the way," she added, holding the front door open for her.

She had been trying to lighten the mood and it worked. Francine's shoulders seemed to relax instantly, and she smiled.

"Oh, well, thanks!"

Before following Francine out the door, Bitzi caught a glimpse of Arthur staring after Francine while shaking his head, looking frustrated. Once outside, Bitzi tried to keep to her word.

"You seem to have a knack for photojournalism," she said, jumping right in.

"What?" Francine said, apparently caught off guard by her words.

She looked down at the camera strung around her neck, and it seemed to dawn on her.

"What, this? No, it's just for my blog. It's just a hobby. I'm not trying to…"

"I'm a big fan of The Frensky Star," Bitzi said. "You're quite good at your hobby."

"You read it? But you're a real news lady..."

"We like to call ourselves 'journalists'. What about you, Francine? Given any thought to a possible career path?"

"Uh… I haven't thought about much beyond kicking ass at basketball and getting a scholarship."

The girl's eyes widened.

"I said 'ass', didn't I? I'm so sorry, Mrs. Baxter. Please don't tell my dad."

Bitzi smirked in spite of herself.

"So much spunk. You remind me a lot of myself when I was younger. Well, I hope you consider the possibilities beyond just kicking ass at basketball. I'd never tell you what you should do with your life, but I hope you'll keep an open mind."

Before going back inside to find Bo and Buster, she added, "Have fun. I can't wait to read your post about tonight."

"As I was telling Mrs. Crosswire on the drive here," said Muffy's father, "I'm very impressed with the quick turnaround we've see in Muffy. Outstanding results. Thank you, Alan."

"Muffy's done a lot of hard work on her own," Alan said modestly, "so it makes my job easier."

Muffy stood next to Alan, the two of them enjoying Styrofoam cups filled with cocoa. Her father had yet to taste his beverage. He had been too busy heaping praise on Alan. Muffy could not help but feel secondhand pride for him.

"She's been a real go-getter. I couldn't be more pleased," he agreed. "But you—I think you deserve a raise."

Alan looked dumbfounded. He stammered before finding his words.

"Oh, no, Mr. Crosswire, really. It's nice of you to suggest, but I feel as if the amount you're paying me is more than adequate for—"

Muffy nudged Alan in the ribs and gave him a sideways glance that suggested he should just shut up and take the money. The more money, the closer he would be to buying a car.

Alan had inquired about this bit of knowledge during one of their study sessions.

"I'm stumped," he had said, interrupting her in the middle of an exercise.

"Life's full of firsts, Alan," she said, putting her pen down. "What is it?"

"How did you know I was saving for a car?"

"Oh, that… My mom told me. You told her at my pool party. Don't you remember?"

"No, though to be honest, I still get nervous around large bodies and vessels of water, and you have the largest pool I've ever seen that isn't certified by the Olympics. I'm liable to start babbling about anything just to occupy my mind."

It had not quite been schoolyard gossip, but it was gossip all the same. At one time Muffy had sought to use this information to get what she wanted. Now she rooted for Alan to get what he wanted, too, everything from an automobile to a normal, healthy life.

"It's settled," said Muffy's father. "Raise, starting next week."

Before Alan could object, he was interrupted by a man Muffy was pretty sure was Buster's dad.

"Hey, Alan! Sorry to butt in, but I just wanted to tell you how amazing the Thorens sounds—just like she did when I was fifteen. Thanks again!"

"No problem, Mr. Baxter," said Alan.

"Wait a minute," Muffy's father said to Mr. Baxter. "You're Bo Baxter, aren't you? Bitzi's Bo?"

"Seems I'll be getting that a lot," said Mr. Baxter with a smile.

"Ed Crosswire," he said, offering his hand. "Say, a little birdie told me that you're the new owner of the flight school in Ingram. I bet that's interesting work."

"I'm co-owner, actually. And it has its ups and downs."

Her father laughed heartily.

"That's pretty good!"

"No, it isn't, but I appreciate you trying to humor me. And what's your line?"

"Ah, well… Got my fingers in so many pies nowadays it's kinda hard to tell. But my first love has always been automotive sales. You got a favorite?"

"Not really much of a car guy," Mr. Baxter mused.

She watched her father's cheerful expression fall a little.

"I always thought I might like to own a vintage motorcycle, though. I've just never had my feet planted long enough to seriously consider it."

He looked pleased again as he clasped a firm grasp onto Mr. Baxter's shoulder.

"Bo, I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. It just so happens I know an excellent motorbike guy. Let's grab some dessert, and I'll introduce you to some folks."

Muffy watched her father walk away with Mr. Baxter.

"It looks like you're every dad's favorite person," she said, turning to Alan.

Alan's face screwed up.

"As far as titles go, I think I prefer Zen Master of Learning," he said. "Speaking of which, would you like to see my newest project?"

Muffy looked around curiously.

"You brought it with you? Where is it?"

"Right here," he said, digging his phone out of his back pocket. "Keep in mind, I still have a few bugs to work out, but I'm pleased with what I've got so far. I've been referring to it as Project Study Buddy. It's a phone prog. That's short for 'program'."

"I know what a prog is," said Muffy, amused.

She closed in on Alan so he could demonstrate.

"I have about eighty-five of them on my Infinity, remember?"

"Right. Of course," he said. "So this prog blocks other progs with simple multiple choice questions. It won't interfere with calling or texting, so you won't be under pressure if there's an emergency. However, it will block almost everything else. Say I wanted to access the E! News prog—"

"Have you ever?" said Muffy with a small laugh.

"No, but say I did. When I tap the E! News icon, I'm instantly denied access. See?"

On screen, Alan had tried the E! News icon only for a small pop-up to appear, asking him a question.

What is the correct chemical formula for sodium chloride?

Below the question was a short list of possible answers. Alan selected the answer marked B.

"Would you look at that?" he said with dry humor as the front page of the E! News prog became visible, "Paparazzi photos of some celebrity couple having an argument on Rodeo Drive. Isn't it wonderful?"

Kidding aside, Muffy thought the prog was a neat idea.

"You could totally market this, Alan," she said with earnest amazement.

"Oh, no. This is just a study aid for you," he said. "I have no plans for it beyond that. I'll need to fine tune it, of course, and tailor it to your particular needs, but I can have it ready in about a week."

"This is going above and beyond your job as a tutor."

Alan shoved his phone back into his pocket.

"I made a promise," he said simply. "Also, your father is paying me an extortionate amount of money. Above and beyond is the least I could do."

He looked around searching the crowded cafeteria.

"I should find my parents and convince them to leave early," he said. "I'd like to finish my formal letter to Mrs. Turner-Mills. It's my apology for making a proverbial ass of myself. Maybe then I'll able to show my face at the library with minimal shame. Have a good night."

He turned to leave.

"Oh, Zen Master," Muffy called after him.

Alan looked back at her.

"You're really sweet," she said. "Sometimes."

He nodded thoughtfully.

"You aren't so bad either, Muffy," he said with a wink. "On occasion."

"I just signed up to help with the cake walk during the school carnival. I would have volunteered to chaperone the Autumn Ball, only I've got the big realtor expo that weekend."

The Walters family had gathered near the refreshment table, accompanied by Sue Ellen. Fern was barely listening to her mother as she quietly ate a slice of pumpkin pie. She was still thinking about her encounter with Allison and Omar. She only perked up when her mother addressed her personally.

"That was a pretty cute little skit the kids performed tonight, Fernie. It really makes me miss the days when you were up on the stage."

"You've always been very good, sweetie," her father chimed in.

"You know," said Fern, "I was actually considering going back to the stage, maybe auditioning for the fall musical."

"Really?" her mother said, eyes hopeful.

"Yeah," she said, dosing her words with just the right amount of enthusiasm. "I've really missed it, plus I've got so much free time on my hands. I bet my friends are going audition, too. How about you, Sue Ellen?"

Sue Ellen stared back at Fern, trying to hide her quizzical expression. She obviously knew Fern was up to something.

"Yeah, I might," Sue Ellen offered. "I haven't really decided yet."

"I can see it now," her mother said proudly. "You're going to break a leg, I just know it! Oooh, there's Ingrid Lundgren. Haven't talked to her in ages. I'll be right back!"

Her mother handed her plate of uneaten pie to her father as she raced off to talk to Mrs. Lundgren. Her father, who had finished his pie in three bites, set the plate atop his empty one and began eating it as well.

"Mmm," he mused. "Nothing beats apple."

"Wait," said Fern, "I thought blueberry was your favorite."

"I don't remember saying that."

"Yes, you did," she said insistently. "You did at your birthday dinner. Don't you remember?"

Her father thought as he chewed.

"Maybe. I guess I could have. But there's no need to get upset about it, Fernie. It's pie. As far as I'm concerned, it could all be my favorite."

No. That was not how it was supposed to work. There could be no loophole in the pie argument that would allow her mother to be right. Before Fern could lose herself and tell her father that he was too agreeable, they were interrupted by Mr. Crosswire, standing alongside a man she was certain to be Bo Baxter.

"Hey, Bill!" Mr. Crosswire said.

"Hi, Ed," said her father.

"Meet Bo Baxter."

Fern watched the two men shake hands and exchange pleasantries.

"Bo, this is Bill Walters, Northeast sales rep for VaulTech Security. And let's not forget his daughter, little Fern."

"Oh my gosh," Mr. Baxter said, smiling down at her. "You're the Fern! Buster's friend? My son has told me a lot about you."

"Really?" she said.

She was trying her hardest not to blush.

"I mean, he's told me a lot about you, too, sir. Welcome to Elwood City."

"Aw, thanks!"

The three men began to chat animatedly. Rather than stand around and listen to them talk about their careers, Sue Ellen nodded toward a less crowded section of the cafeteria. Fern followed.

"I'm just going to ignore the way your face lights up whenever his name is mentioned," she said once they had reached the area where the lunch line usually formed.

"Good," Fern said casually. "You should."

"But if you are interested in him," she continued, "maybe don't do silly things like push him away. Just a suggestion. Don't threaten him either."

"You threaten Binky all the time," said Fern, "and I think he loves you all the more for it."

Sue Ellen laughed.

"Binky's great, but he's not the one I'm interested in."

"Oh, I know."

Sue Ellen was quick to change the subject.

"So, um, what you said to your mom earlier—you're really thinking of going back to the stage?"

Fern had explained to Sue Ellen that she needed to find ways to appease her mother if she ever wanted to gain a normal writing life. If that meant doing a play here or there to get on her good side, well, there were certainly worse ways to get what one wanted. She was still on a high from the goodwill she had been accumulating as of late, and now she was more determined than ever to be the best writer she could be. Nothing would ever stand between her and her stories, not even her overbearing mother.

It was her bedtime. Fern switched on her bedside lamp before turning off the overhead. After settling underneath the covers, she picked it up, the book Buster had given her that afternoon. Upon flipping the cover open, she was surprised to see that Buster had taken the time to inscribe it in his messy handwriting.

To the best detective and writer I know. Thank you for everything. I'm lucky to have a friend like you.

Love,

Buster

She felt another twinge in her chest. She was not ready to give up on him either. After all, they made a good team.

To be continued…