Work is work...keeping me busy and preventing me from being able to lay around and be on the computer all day. I know, how rude, lol. I'm also so woefully behind on replying to reviews and pms it's not even funny. I have every intention of getting back to people. It's just a matter of real life providing time. But I do appreciate all of your feedback. Truly.
And poor Cory (Or not! He can be annoying.) lol. He is such a well-intentioned pain in the butt who doesn't always consider the consequences outside of how they relate to him.
:-)
"It's just so stupid." Eric threw his pencil at the wall and sighed when it fell behind his desk. "When am I ever going to need to use negative integers in the real world?"
"How about when you're reporting the weather and have to tell people how to dress when it's below zero with even worse wind chills? You're going to use negative integers more than almost anyone."
"Why are you being so mean to me with your logic and facts?"
Angela could practically see the pout on his face. If she were home she'd kiss it away. "I'm sorry, baby."
"You know the drill: first you let me whine and complain and then you knock me back to earth with your smarts."
"I don't know what I was thinking. I'll make it up to you when I get home."
"You'd better. So tell me all about Boston: day four. How's it going? You can leave out being heartbroken and mind numbingly bored because I'm not there. That's just a given."
"It's still hot and humid as hell. Promise when you become a big time meteorologist you'll fix the whole humidity thing for me?"
"I'll put it on the top of my to-do list."
"Thank you."
"So besides humidity, how is it?"
"Today we did whatever my dad wanted to do. I figured he deserved a day. It was a lot of pre-Civil War and Civil War monuments: Paul Revere House, Freedom Trail, Boston Tea Party Museum that does reenactments-"
"That sounds fun."
"It wasn't bad. I was expecting it to be lame, but the actors are committed. And we also saw a navy yard and Fort Independence before catching a baseball game."
"You saw a baseball game without me? That-that's like worse than cheating. Actually it might be equal, except you cheated on the Phillies."
She rolled her eyes at Eric's dramatics. "My dad wanted to see Fenway."
"Who played?"
"The Red Sox."
"Well, duh, it's their house, silly. Who were they up against?"
"Some team with a gray uniform."
"That could be anybody."
"The White Sox…I think." She looked at her ticket stub. "Yes, the White Sox."
"Weird, the last time I let them meet I wound up with pink laundry."
"Funny."
"I try."
"If it makes you feel better I had a lot more fun at the Phillies games I've gone to with you."
"Duh, I'm amazing," he bragged, making her laugh. "Does that mean you'll come with me to another game?"
"We'll see."
"If I pass all my summer classes will you go to another game this season? Who knows, it might be just the motivation I need."
"Oh, suddenly I'm not motivation enough?"
"I-uh…you see-"
"I'm kidding," she reassured. "But yes, when you pass I'll go to one more game with you. And that's in addition to already promising to go day camping with you in whatever you call The Gorge."
"Day camping," he snickered. "You mean our hiking trip?"
"Whatever."
"For someone so smart you know almost nothing about the outdoors."
"That's never been a secret. But I'm saying, hiking and more baseball? You're going to owe me big."
"And I intend to pay."
Angela could hear him try to muffle a yawn and looked at the time. "Go to sleep."
"I'm okay. I can talk a little longer."
"No, it's fine. Tomorrow is your most jam-packed day of the week."
Between work and summer school he'd come to dread Tuesdays. But he supposed it was a fitting punishment for all the slacking off he did in the past. After all, if he hadn't of been so damn lazy he wouldn't be in this situation. "Midnight's just a few minutes away. I'll go to bed then."
"What's so important that you're forcing yourself to stay awake until midnight like a stubborn child on New Year's Eve?"
"I wanted to be the first one to tell you happy birthday."
She smiled into the phone and drew a knee up against her chest. "You could tell me now and still be first."
"Nope, it has to be after midnight."
"You know I was born in Belgium and it's six hours later there. So technically-"
"I hate that I can't be the guy you see on TV or in movies who would act all mysterious and tell his girlfriend to open the door and have a giant bouquet of flowers and a sweet, expensive gift waiting."
"I don't care about that stuff."
"I know, but you deserve it. You deserve it all. One day when I'm a big time, rich meteorologist I'm going to make sure you get it. But since I can't give it to you right now I want beat everyone to the birthday punch...er, make that wish."
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize how much it meant to you." It was a bit jarring to realize how far into the future he was thinking, but for now she'd focus on the sweetness of his intentions.
"It's dumb, I know, but it's all I got right now." A few seconds later the alarm on his watch went off. "Happy birthday, Angela."
"Thank you."
"I love you."
"I love you, too. I'll see you in a few days, okay?"
"Yeah. Good night."
"Good night."
/
/
"…thank you again for considering me in this prestigious program," Cory read allowed as he typed. "Sincerely…um….Sincerely…hey, Jack?"
"What?"
"I'm not sure how to end this."
"Most people would go with their name," Jack said, not looking away from the television.
"I know that, but how do you think I should do it? Should I just put Cory Matthews? Cory A. Matthews? Maybe pull a J.D. Salinger and do C.A. Matthews?"
"Does it matter? Just put what feels right."
"Of course it matters! What if I get picked? What if I win and get into the program? I know odds are against it, but miracles can happen. If I go onto make documentaries the name I pick now could be the name I'm known by professionally forever." Another idea came to him. "Hmm, maybe I should try to carve out a new identity and put C. Middlename Matthews. What do you think?"
He muted the TV when a commercial came on. "What is your middle name?"
"You won't laugh?"
"No."
"You swear?"
"Trust me, I'm the last guy who laughs at middle names."
Cory looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Why? How bad is your middle name?"
"I asked you first."
"Augustin." It wasn't nearly as bad since he got his parents to legally change his name to Cory, but Cornelius Augustin Matthews had been a cumbersome name to bear for the seven years he had it. Not to mention the endless teasing from Eric and his friends. That he managed to keep it a secret from both Shawn and Topanga was a miracle. "I was named after some uncle or great-grandfather of my mom's."
"That's a lot of name, but I have you beat. Mine is Brady."
"And? That doesn't seem so bad."
"My mom named me after what had been her favorite TV show when she was a teenager."
"So you're named after-"
"The Brady Bunch…yep." Jack could tell that his roommate was trying not to laugh. "If you tell Eric or Shawn I will kill you. The rare times it's come up I just say it's a family name on my mom's side."
"You have my word, Jack 'Brady Bunch' Hunter." He dodged the pillows that came his way. "Hey, watch it. I have a water bottle near the computer. If it spills on the keyboard it's all over."
"Then that will be the last time you make that joke again, got it?"
"Yeah, fine, I swear."
"And for the record, it's John."
"Huh? What is?"
"My name. Jack's just a nickname."
"Oh. It's weird that your nickname has the same amount of letters as your actual name. Plus…hey…I just realized you and Shawn basically have the same name, right? John and Shawn are the same. Did Chet do that on purpose?"
Considering Jack could count on one hand the memories he had of Chet, he doubted anything was intentional. He held little faith that the man was involved with naming either of his sons. "Don't you have a proposal to sign?"
"Right. So where did we land? Should I include the middle initial or not?"
/
/
"Sorry I couldn't stop the sparkler candles," Alvin apologized. "I assumed when I told them no waiters singing Happy Birthday they would get the message to simply bring the cake out."
"It's okay. At least they weren't trick candles." She dug her fork in and picked up some more dessert. "This caramel cake is amazing. Outside of Nan's Bundt cakes this may be the best cake I've ever eaten."
"You'll get no arguments from me. Let's hope I still fit into my uniform by the time I have to report back to base after all the delicious food this week." After ordering some coffee from the waiter he pushed his plate away. "Have you enjoyed your birthday, sweetheart?"
"Are you kidding? Dad it's been amazing. This whole trip has been great. But mostly I'm just glad I get to spend time with you instead of getting a birthday greeting over the phone." His expression sobered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not. We're having a good time and I'm acting like a brat. I know you have an important job to do."
"It's not more important to me than you are, nothing is. And you have every right to be cynical, but I swear I'm retiring once my current contract is up. Nearly twenty-five years in the army is a good run, don't you think?"
Angela nodded, not at all convinced her father would be able to walk away so easily. "It's a great run, dad."
"So in two years I will be a free man."
"Just in time to watch me go crazy in my last year of college," she joked. "That is if I don't decide to go for my masters'."
"You've thought about it?"
"Occasionally. But we'll see what happens. I like to have a plan but it doesn't need to be etched in stone. You have to be prepared for life to throw you a curveball and lead you somewhere else."
"That's smart. I'm sure whatever you decide to do you'll be brilliant at it."
"You're my dad. You have to think that."
"That's not true. I bet if I went around the restaurant and asked everyone if they thought the birthday girl was headed for great things they'd-"
He was getting a little too loud. "Dad-"
"What?"
"I think the candles let everyone know it's my birthday. You don't have to announce it." She was puzzled when he started to laugh. "Are you okay?"
All he said was, "your third birthday."
"What about it?"
"We were living in Spain because I was stationed in Rota. It wasn't too long before I was transferred back to the States." Alvin shook his head, not wanting to get off track. "On your third birthday your mom and I took you out for breakfast at this café that you loved because the older couple who ran it always gave you a silly straw for your milk or juice. They even encouraged blowing bubbles into your beverage, much to our chagrin.
"We let you order whatever you wanted and you picked chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream. When they came to take our order you told the woman, I believe her name was Marita, you said it was your birthday. And when she came back with your food she added sprinkles to your pancakes and gave you a free bowl of berries. You were in heaven."
"I don't understand. I told an old lady it was my birthday and got some free fruit? That's your big story?"
"Give me some credit here. No, a little while later you decided you were done and said, if I remember the quote correctly, "I so boring just sitting." You asked if you could watch the cook through the kitchen window while mom and I finished eating. We agreed so long as you didn't wander and stayed where we could see you. Not two seconds later you were at another table, proudly telling the people it was your birthday and you were a three year old big girl."
She smiled, both relieved and sorry she didn't remember this moment. "Three year old big girl?"
"Mom and I were very active in the big girl talk. It helped a lot to motivate you during potty training."
"And that's enough of that," she said, holding up her hands.
"Not quite. I'm still telling my story."
"I did more?"
"I'm afraid so. Not only did you go around to every table and tell everyone it was your birthday, but you asked if you could have the flowers from the bud vases. I don't know what shocked us more, that you were being so bold or that you could have passable conversations in Spanish. We tried to reprimand you, but Marita said to let you enjoy your day and even gave you the flowers from the empty tables. When it was time to leave you walked back to us with hands full of pink carnations and Marita got an exceptionally large tip." Alvin shook his head, a wistful smile on his face. "There are pictures somewhere of you and all those carnations. I'll have to see if I can find them. I think you fell asleep with them that night."
"I'd like to see the pictures sometime." She couldn't help but notice that he was watching her. "What?"
"It doesn't seem like that long ago, you know?"
"What doesn't?"
"You being three and needing me for everything. Now you're practically a grown woman, a very independent one."
"Just because I'm growing up doesn't mean I don't still need you. Sure, it's not in the same way as when I was three, but there's never going to be a time where I'm not going to need you in my life. You're my dad." Angela looked down at the table. "That's why I want you to actually keep your promise and retire this time, not just for your safety- obviously that's number one, but selfishly…for me. So you can actually be here instead of saying you wish you could be here. Sometimes it's hard to let myself still need you when I know you can't be around. I…it's just hard."
He's lost track of how many times he's had to counsel her over the phone or said the words I wish I could be there with you right now. He knew the only way to ever fully regain her confidence was to keep his word. "I'm sorry."
"I know. It's okay."
"No, it's-"
"Dad, please?"
"All right," he conceded before signaling for the waiter. "I'd like the check, please."
"Yes, sir."
"And could you add a couple extra pieces of cake in a to-go container as well?"
"Of course."
"More cake," she asked, after the waiter was gone.
"Like you said, it is the best caramel cake ever."
"Right."
"Did you want to take a cab back to the hotel or-"
"You don't want to walk along the harbor? It's supposed to look really pretty at night."
"We can if you still want to."
"Yeah, I do. Please."
"Okay."
/
Angela hated how quiet things were during the walk. They were surrounded by people- families, couples, tons of happy people talking and laughing- yet they weren't saying a word. She hated how her dad's mood soured at the end of dinner. She didn't mean to bring him down. Just once she wished a trip down memory lane didn't end with a pothole and reminders of less pleasant times. Not even her birthday was safe from this curse. "Are you mad at me," she asked, linking her arm through his.
"No, sweetheart, you're the last person I could ever be mad at."
"Then why are you giving me the silent treatment?"
"I'm thinking, that's all."
"About what?"
"You, life, how fast it's all going, how quickly you've grown up, how much I've missed-"
"Dad-"
"And most importantly, how proud I am of the person you've become, even if I wish I could say I had more to do with it."
"You have more to do with who I am today than you realize, maybe more than anybody. Before you twist that around, yes, I mean that in a good way." She stopped walking and stood in front of him. "This can't be the way my birthday ends, not on this note. We've been having such a good time. Can't we go back to that, please? I'll listen to all your stories about me, even the cringeworthy ones I've heard before."
He sighed. She should not have to beg in order to have a happy birthday. "You're right. I'm sorry. The last thing I want is to ruin your night. How about we-" Before he could get another word out, something hit the back of his leg. Alvin turned around. There was a little girl, no more than three or four years old, staring up at him with wonder. "Hello."
"Lexi!"
He looked around and saw a young couple rushing towards them. The man, Alvin assumed the father, was carrying whom he guessed was the girl's baby brother. "I take it she belongs to you?"
"I'm so sorry," the woman apologized, taking the little girl's hand. "We looked away for two seconds because the diaper bag fell over and everything spilled out and-and…"
"It's okay. My daughter liked to run at that age."
"I did?"
"Busy parking lots were your favorite obstacle courses."
"Well, sorry for bothering you folks. Have a good night."
"Actually, hold on one second," Angela reached into her purse and took out her camera. "If you don't mind, would you take a picture of me and my dad?" She smiled at her father before telling the woman, "Today's my birthday."
/
/
"So what's your game plan for going home?"
Topanga's book slipped from her hands and she stared at her sister, eyes wide. "You're kicking me out?"
"Of course not, Tippy, but you have to go back to your life eventually."
"I guess."
"What did you expect; that you could hide out here forever?"
"Not forever exactly. Maybe a lifetime or two, but not forever."
"Don't you want to get back to your friends, school starts up again soon, and not to mention the fiance who adores you."
"Maybe."
"What does that mean?"
"I sent Cory back the engagement ring."
"You did what?" Nebula moved to sit beside her sister. "When?"
"I don't know, a week ago…two weeks? I haven't exactly been living my life by a calendar lately."
"Why did you send it back?"
She stared at her hands and touched where the engagement ring used to sit. "It felt wrong to keep it when I'm so unsure about the future. It's a family heirloom for Cory's mom. It needs to stay within the family."
"Are you sure about this?"
"Aren't you the person who said that proposing to Cory on the night we graduated- on stage immediately after getting our diplomas- was impulsive?" She'd been so excited to share the news of her engagement with her sister. It was a shock when Nebula, while happy, wasn't as gung ho as she'd expected. "You said I had to focus on figuring me out before I became us."
"I did say that, but I'm just worried that you're doing it for the wrong reasons."
"Wanting to spare Cory pain and suffering is wrong?"
"You don't think you're causing him pain and suffering right now with your long distance silent treatment?"
"Fine, so I'm a horrible person who has no business being in a relationship at the moment." Topanga got up and walked over to her dresser. She pulled out a picture from the top drawer. It was one of her and Cory taken last summer. They'd gone to the park and gotten Shawn to take a few pictures of them on the monkey bars. They turned out so well they were going to use them as their Save the Date announcements. "I don't want to hurt Cory. He's the last person I would ever want to hurt. But I don't know if I can handle a relationship right now. I don't know if I can handle being in love. I don't know if I'll ever be able to handle it again."
"Don't you think you owe it to him to tell him that? At least put him out of his misery so he's not calling constantly to know if you're okay." Nebula hesitated for a minute, knowing what she said next would not be well-received. "Tippy, I love you and I have loved getting to spend all this time with you, but you cannot run away and hide from your life forever."
"Why not, running away and hiding seems to be working for you."
"What?"
"What have you been doing all these years? Sure, now you're staying in Yogaville, but before this you were going to be a nun. Where were you before that? You were living on some icebreaker ship near the Arctic Circle. And prior to that-"
"Okay, so I'm still searching for my purpose in life. I have my reasons."
"And I have mine. So it's really hypocritical of you to turn around and kick out your own sister."
"I'm not kicking you out."
"You're not?"
"No, at least not yet. However you do have two options: either you go home for a day or two and talk to Cory or invite him here to talk."
She slumped down against the wall. "I'm not ready to face him."
"Tough. The poor guy has spent weeks and weeks in limbo. He deserves better than that."
Topanga said nothing. She knew her sister was right.
"I'll give you a few days to decide what you want to do."
"And if I don't decide?"
"Then I'll drag you to Philadelphia myself."
/
/
"Mr. Feeny!" Eric peeked in the greenhouse and it was empty. That was unusual. At this time of day Mr. Feeny was typically tending to the flowers that bloomed in the evening. His car was in the driveway. Then again that didn't mean he was home. His household was now a two car one. As he approached the house he was relieved to see a light on in the kitchen and pounded on the back door. "Mr. Feeny!" A few seconds later the door opened and his mentor appeared, an annoyed look on his face. "Hey, what's up?"
"That's how you greet me? What's up?"
"I asked you first."
"Eric," Mr. Feeny said with a sigh, "must you go around bellowing my name at decibels that would be considered obscene at a Deep Purple concert?"
"Is that some sort of joke because I don't get it."
"Look it up."
"Mr. Feeny, I need your help."
"We're not going to get very far studying without your books."
"Wha-no, it's not homework." He took a seat in one of the chairs. "It's Angela."
"Is something wrong?"
"Yeah, I have no clue what to get her for her birthday and the stores close in a couple hours."
"When is her birthday?"
"Two days ago."
"Oh."
"She's been in Boston with her dad so that bought me a little extra time. But she's coming home tomorrow and the store close in a couple hours. So come on, old man, think!"
"Why do you expect me to come up with a solution?"
"Because you like books and reading like her and I've always heard that teachers don't make enough money. So that means you're broke like me." He grinned. "You've got the best and worst of both worlds and right now I need to pick your brain."
Once again George questioned the events in his life that led him to this exact situation. He must've done something in a past life. "You've been dating Angela for a while now. Surely you've been paying enough attention to hone in on a few areas of interest."
"The problem is the majority of the stuff I see if way out of my price range and the stuff that is in my price range looks like I put no thought into it."
"Angela's never struck me as the type of person to be caught up on money and the superficial."
"She's no snob, but she deserves more than a boyfriend who digs through the $1 bin at the store. And that's what's going to happen if I can't get a good idea. I originally wanted to get her this cool necklace I saw, but then summer school happened so bye-bye necklace. And don't worry, I don't blame that wife of yours' even if she was the one to lower the boom on my head." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his legs. "I got some extra money from my parents for doing chores around the house- the gross stuff they didn't want to do."
"I wish you would've said something a few days ago. I'm sure you would've given me a better rate than the person I hired to clean out my gutters."
"I feel like such a failure. I'm twenty-one. I should be able to afford to buy my girlfriend a birthday present without having to beg around for odd jobs to make money."
"Eric, you are many things, but a failure is not one of them."
"Thanks, Feeny, but it's hard not to think that way when I see Jason and all these other people I graduated high school with come home from college talking about job offers and stuff while I'm still in school."
"Everyone grows at different rates. How is Jason, by the way?"
"Good. He's pretty sure he's taking an advertising job in Newark. They've had the best offer so far, but he's still got two more interviews. One is in Atlanta and the other is in Denver."
He nodded. "Good for him."
"Yep. Great for Jason. Great for everyone but Eric."
"You know the quickest way to a miserable life is to constantly compare yourself to other people."
"I know." Eric sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated. Angela and I had all kinds of plans for this summer and then they couldn't happen because of me and school. The least I could do is get her a kick ass birthday gift she'd love to make up for it."
"She'll love whatever you get her because it comes from your heart."
"Clearly you've never been given a hideous sweater with a matching hat your Nana was sure you'd love. Those gifts might've come from her heart, but her heart must've been out drinking when she bought them."
"Are you being intentionally difficult?"
"A little bit, yeah."
"Well, stop. And you'd better get going." He glanced at the time. "Judging by my watch the stores close in ninety minutes."
"Right." He stood. "Thanks for…whatever you want to call this."
"Help?"
"Nope, definitely wouldn't call it that."
"Good night, Eric."
"'Night, Feeny."
/
/
"Dad, can I ask you something?"
Alan looked up from counting the registers. They'd just locked the doors for the night. "Can it wait until after I count the money?"
"Oh, yeah," Cory stammered, "sure."
"Go fix the display of soccer balls. Those idiot parents let their kids run around everywhere before I finally kicked them out."
"You got it." His dad had told him to tell the parents to either look after their kids or leave earlier, but Cory had a hard time being that direct, especially towards a parent. Even after the kids ran amok and made a mess he still found it challenging to do more than make a simple request. He could never imagine doing that in a store…anywhere really. His parents never even had to say a word. All they had to do was give a look and he and Eric would straighten up. After a while he got the entire section straightened up and his dad still hadn't come over. So he walked around the rest of the store before going to the back office, not surprised to find his father at the computer. "Everything okay?"
"What, yeah, sorry, just had to make sure the orders we received today were put in as delivered." He switched off the monitor. "You ready to head out?"
He took a seat across from the desk. "Can we talk first?"
"Right, sorry. You wanted to ask me something."
"Yeah. You know I entered the contest for NYU Film School, right?"
"You mentioned it."
"I know I probably have zero chance of winning. Thousands of students enter these contests for just a handful of spots in the program and-"
"Hey, don't sell yourself short. You've always been good with the camera and getting people invested."
"You think so?"
"I do. So, what's your movie going to be about?"
"Well, see, that's where you come in."
"Oh, no."
"It has to be a documentary and the deadline was approaching fast." Cory got up and paced around the office. "Then last week I heard you and Angela's dad talking about your military careers and-"
"How?"
"Me and Shawn were reminiscing in the tree house. Anyway, hearing you talk got me thinking. Outside of your story about the silver gloves you've never talked about being in the Navy too much."
"There's not much to say."
"I'm sure that's not true, but back to my documentary. You see, you wouldn't be the sole focus. It would be about both you and Sgt. Moore. It would be a look at the guy who served for a few years before going back to being a civilian and leading a regular family life versus the guy who turned the military into his career and is still serving." His dad was staring at him, arms crossed and silent. "What do you think?"
"I don't know, Cory. I didn't have it anywhere near as rough as a lot of people in uniform, but there were still difficult moments."
"I know. I get it."
"No, you don't." Alan leaned back in his chair. "If you were eavesdropping I'm sure you heard Sgt. Moore talk about getting injured and losing friends."
He looked down. "Yeah."
"And you want to drag that all up again for him for a movie?"
"It's a college scholarship," Cory added, regretting it instantly. "I'm sorry, dad. But I'd been trying for weeks to come up with an idea and like I said, the deadline to submit the topic was approaching and-"
"Time out. You've already submitted this proposal?"
"A few days ago, yeah."
"What were you thinking?"
"I thought it would be compelling. You and Angela's dad are both about the same age with similar interests and personalities. Your lives could've gone down similar paths but you each chose a different road. It's a good story."
"But it's not your story to tell."
His head fell into his hands. "I screwed up bigtime, didn't I?"
"That would be the understatement of the decade."
"The last thing I want is to upset anyone or bring up bad feelings."
"If you plan to ask soldiers about the past, that's pretty much unavoidable. Even if there's no wartime trauma there's usually loneliness or a broken heart somewhere along the way. Like me for example, I never saw combat, but your mom and I went through hell spending much of our early marriage apart because of my service. There were a few moments where I wondered if we'd be able to make it."
"Really?"
"That's the kind of stuff you'd have to delve into. If you planned to make a movie just talking to the guys involved you wouldn't get the full story."
It never occurred to Cory that he'd have to interview his mom. Was he supposed to talk to Grandma Bernice, too, and get her opinion on her only son enlisting? "You're right. I didn't think this through at all. I'll call tomorrow morning and withdraw from the competition."
"Hold on a second."
"What?"
"Don't rule it out just yet." Alan couldn't believe he was about to say this. He was pretty sure the only thing fueling this was the knowledge that his son didn't set out to hurt anyone. Cory was many things, but malicious was not one of them. "If you still want to give it a shot, I'll-"
"Really," he exclaimed, jumping up from the chair. "Thank you, dad!"
"Wait a second. You didn't let me finish. What I was going to say was I'll do it on one condition."
"Anything you want. Just name it."
"You have to ask Alvin and explain the whole proposal to him. If he's on board, I'm in."
He nodded. "That sounds fair. I'll let you know what he says."
"Great. I'm going to make sure the back is locked up and then we can go."
"Okay." As he sat there waiting for his dad Cory realized, that while he was nervous about asking Sgt. Moore's participation in his project, he was downright terrified of Angela's reaction. Did her parents divorce because of her dad's military career? Is that why her mom took off? Was this the start of Angela's familial chaos? How was he supposed to ask her about that? Would he be opening another can of worms for his friend when she was already going through turmoil? Why didn't any of this occur to him before? Was he so desperate for something to distract him from his issues with Topanga he blinded himself to everything else?
And, perhaps most important, would she get Eric to kill him or do it herself?