Lena grabbed a granola bar out of the cupboard, unwrapped it, and shoved the whole thing in her beak, crunching down hard as she tossed the wrapper into the garbage. Over from the table, Ty watched in fascination.
"Hungry?" he asked.
Lena finished chewing—well, mostly—and then swallowed with an audible gulp. "Going over to the mansion," Lena said. "Shadow-walking always makes me hungry."
"Ah," Ty said, a twinkle in his eye. "Going to see Webby?"
"I told you, it isn't like that."
Her visits to the mansion were growing more and more frequent as she and Webby spent increasing amounts of time together, and her dads were, consequently, becoming more and more certain that she and Webby were engaged in some kind of secret romance. Which they weren't, unfortunately.
Did she say unfortunately? She didn't mean that. It just slipped out. Shut up, brain.
"Mmhmm," Ty said, like the horrible father he was. "You two have fun."
"We will," Lena said spitefully.
She stalked up to her room to finish getting ready, and opened the door to see Violet sitting at Lena's desk, casually reading her poetry notebook.
What.
What.
Lena let out a sound halfway between a demonic screech and an abyssal wail, reaching forward with her telekinesis and yanking the journal out of Violet's grasp. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" she screeched, voice high-pitched and broken.
Violet turned to her, expression as unreadable as ever. "Reading your poems."
"Those are personal," Lena hissed. "Don't you know how to respect someone's privacy?!"
"In my defense," Violet said, "I thought you were going over to Webby's, so I didn't think I'd get caught."
"I—you—" Lena spluttered. "How is that a defense?"
Violet shrugged. "If it helps, you have a certain way with words. Though I think you could experiment with more advanced structures, would you be so inclined; are you familiar with the villanelle? I think it would suit your compositional style wonderfully."
"Vi, if I wanted critiques, I would've shown you the poems my god-damn self," Lena accused.
"Ah—forgive me. I got carried away." Violet cleared her throat. "Believe me, your poems are quite well crafted, especially for your age. I was very impressed, and I believe Webbigail will be, too."
Lena went bright red. "Violet if you so much as breathe a word of this to Webby—"
"I would never breach your trust like that," Violet said.
Lena narrowed her eyes. "But you would sneak into my room and read my private notebook when you don't think I'm around."
Violet was quiet for a few seconds, and then looking awkwardly away. "Okay so I admit that there is a bit of a contradiction there, but you have my word that I won't tell Webby. I give up my share of father's baked desserts for a month if I do."
"Fine. I have to get going now anyway. But"—Lena waved the notebook in the air—"I'm taking this with me."
"Entirely fair," Violet said. "Have fun with Webby."
"I will," Lena spat, before disappearing down into the shadows.
Webby smiled anxiously, looking up at her brothers, who were huddled over her notebook. "So? What do you think?"
Huey let out a pensive humming sound. "Well… the grammar's pretty good."
"You've got a good command of imagery," Louie said.
"I liked the fight scenes!" Dewey added.
"Thanks!" Webby chirped. "But, um, what did you think about the, uh, the characters? And their relationship?"
"What did we think of 'Debby and Leann?'" Louie asked flatly.
Webby nodded. "Yeah! Were they believable?"
The triplets shared a look. Huey cleared his throat. "Um, Webby, is there any particular reason you wanted us to look at this story?"
"O-oh. Well." Webby rubbed at the back of her head. "I was, um, thinking of maybe sharing it with Lena when she gets here but I wanted to make sure it wasn't a total mess first." She let out a nervous laugh.
"…Right," Huey said.
"So. Question." Dewey pointed a finger to the notebook.
Webby cocked her head to the side. "What is it?"
"Is Debby supposed to be you?" Dewey asked.
"What?" Webby frowned. "I-I mean, she's written to be relatable? Is that what you mean?"
"No, we mean she's literally just you," Louie said. "And Leann is really obviously just Lena. And you clearly wrote this to imagine you and her going on grand romantic adventures together when you grow up."
"I—" Webby swallowed. "No no no, it's—I just—it's a story, you know, and they always say to write what you know, you know, and also to write what you want to read, and—look, no, that's not it at all!"
"The characters are literally named Debby and Leann," Louie said.
"You even accidentally wrote 'Lena' instead of 'Leann' one time," Huey pointed out.
"I did?" Webby snatched the journal back, flipping through the pages. "Where?"
"It was during the part where Debby saves Leann from falling into a spike pit with her grappling hook and Leann says she doesn't know what she'd do without Debby there," Huey said. "Right before Leann uses her magic to make a bridge across the pit."
"Oh, thanks," Webby said. Then she paused. "Wait, you're right, this is totally obvious."
Louie shrugged. "Yeah."
"I'm sure Lena would love it, though," Dewey emphasized, smiling reassuringly.
Webby sighed. "Thanks, Dewey, but there's no way I can show her now. If she notices the same things you did…" Webby felt herself flush. "Aaaa, that'd be so embarrassing!"
The doorbell rang, causing all of them to jump. "Oh! That must be Lena!" Webby said, closing her notebook and clutching it to her chest. "Okay, I'll see you guys later!"
"Bye," Louie said, giving her a lazy wave as she ran off.
Webby bounded through the mansion and flung open the door. "Lenaaaaa!"
"Hey, Pink." Lena was standing on the porch with that classic little Lena smirk of hers. Webby smiled widely at her and motioned for her to come in.
As Lena stepped into the house, Webby noticed the blue leather-bound notebook she was carrying. Webby looked down to the identical notebook in her own hands. It had been Webby's gift for their most recent friendiversary: matching notebooks. Because they were best friends!
"You have your journal with you," Webby pointed out as she closed the door.
"So do you," Lena said.
Webby looked down. "Oh yeah."
"I brought mine because I caught Violet snooping through it before I left," Lena said, rolling her eyes as she enunciated her sister's name. "Why do you have yours?"
"Reasons," Webby said quickly.
Lena raised an eyebrow. "Did you want to share something?"
"No! Did you want to share one of your poems?"
"Ahaha!" Lena suddenly broke into laughter, eyes darting around the room. "Maybe later? Let's go up to your room. Who needs notebooks?" She tossed her journal onto a nearby table. "I'll pick it up when I leave."
"Yeah! Sounds good." Webby tossed her notebook on top of Lena's. "Let's go!"
She grabbed Lena's hand and pulled her towards the stairs, and, more importantly, away from her embarrassing prose. Crisis: averted.
It was raining the next day. Lena liked the rain, as long as she wasn't in it; it was very atmospheric, drumming against the roof like it was apt to do. It calmed her. Inspired her, even. And today was otherwise chalking up to be extremely boring, so she could use some inspiration. Plus, there were a ton of things that rhymed with 'rain.'
She pulled her journal out from her desk and flipped it open—except, instead of being greeted with her sloppy handwriting and sloppier stanzas, she was met with pages filled with neatly-written paragraphs. Her brow furrowed, and she flipped backwards until she came across a page that was serving as the title page, with big letters plastered across the top.
Debby and Leann, it read. And then under that, smaller: By Webbigail Vanderquack.
Lena frowned. "What."
And then it hit her. This was Webby's journal. Which meant that her journal—oh no. Her mind flashed back to when she was leaving the mansion yesterday:
"This was a lot of fun, Pink," Lena had said, walking for the door. "I'll see you again soon, yeah?"
"Of course!" Webby had said. Then, she'd grabbed the top-most journal on the table by the door. "Wait, don't forget your notebook!"
Lena's eyes had widened; the notebook. Her sappy poems.
"Oh right thanks okay bye," Lena had said, snatching the notebook out of Webby's hands and rushing out the door without looking back.
And without checking to make sure she had the right notebook.
Well… Lena pursed her lips. A small peek wouldn't hurt, right?
Chapter 3
The next day, after the adventure in the ancient Sumerian temple, Debby was walking through the grocery store trying to find the flour when suddenly she ran into none other than a tall duck with long, soft hair, a purple streak running through it.
"Oh! Leann! What are you doing here?" Debby said.
Leann turned. "Oh hi Debby. I'm getting groceries."
"Right, duh." Debby said, embarrassed. "It's nice to see you again!"
"You as well. Is your arm healing okay?"
Debby looked down at her arm. The wound from the chimera was not visible through her sleeve, but she could still feel it stinging every so often. "It's getting better," she said, "What about you? Are you holding up okay?"
Leann waggled her fingers mysteriously. "I've got some ways to heal myself."
"Oh, you used you're magic," Debby smiled wide, excited. "That's so cool!"
"Shh not so loud." Leann motioned for her to stop talking.
Debby slapped a hand over her beak. "Sorry!"
"Its okay, you just never know who could be listening," Leann said. "Hey I was wondering, do you think you might want to go out and get lunch some time?"
"Yes I'd love to! Do you want my number?" Debby shook excitedly.
"I was just going to ask," Leann said.
They swapped phones and exchanged their numbers before going there separate ways. Debby smiled to herself as she finished her shopping. She had a date! She couldn't wait.
"Lena, you look like you're about to burst."
Lena let out a startled shout, nearly falling out of her chair as she swiveled to face Violet in the doorway. "Wh-What? Violet? Why are you here?"
"Well, I was going to tell you that it's time to come for supper, but then I noticed you were staring at your journal and blushing profusely, so I figured I might as well make a comment. Forgive me if I interrupted the thoughtful composition of one of your gripping love poems."
"It's—" Lena took a deep breath. "Okay, one, I hate you. Second, this isn't even my journal. Mine and Webby's got switched when I left yesterday."
"And you decided to snoop through her personal journal?" Violet clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "Shameful, Lena. Don't you know how to respect someone's privacy?"
"Yes, I see the irony," Lena said, rolling her eyes. "But—okay, I need your opinion on this, actually." Lena handed the notebook over to the now-curious Violet. "Just read a bit of that and tell me what you think."
Violet read in silence for about a minute before looking up. "And Webbigail wrote this?"
Lena nodded.
"Well, it, uh." Violet cleared her throat. "I wouldn't want to jump to any conclusions, per se, but I do wonder what, ah, inspired this story of hers."
"It's about me, right?" Lena said. "About me and her. I'm not making that up, right?"
"I came to a similar conclusion, yes," Violet said, handing the journal back. "She wasn't particularly subtle in her literary parallels."
"Okay, so what do I do?" Lena asked. "Do I tell her? Do I… ask her out? No, I can't do that. But it's not like I can keep this from her! She wouldn't write this unless… I mean, it's a romance between me and her. That means she likes me, right? Like, romantically?"
"Probably?" Violet offered.
Lena groaned, flopping backwards in her chair. "Uuuuugh, this is so hard! I don't know what to do!"
"Not to cause you undue distress," Violet said, "but in reviewing your next move, you might want to consider that Webby has your journal, and is likely to stumble upon your poems before too much longer."
Lena felt her stomach drop. "Oh. Right."
"Perhaps this is a good thing. Now you two will finally be forced to talk about your feelings."
Lena narrowed her eyes, a plan forming in her head. "Not if I can help it."
Violet sighed, turning for the door. "As always, you never fail to dazzle me with your brilliant decision making. Dinner's ready when you are."
Webby stared at the page in front of her. The page of Lena's journal. That contained one of Lena's poems.
It wasn't that she had wanted to read any of Lena's poems. Well—she did. She actually really did. But that wasn't the reason she was looking at one right now. They'd accidentally switched their notebooks, and when Webby had opened it to do some writing, she'd been met with one of Lena's poems instead.
And if her eyes just happened to roll down the page well then that wasn't really entirely her fault now was it?
On the Color Pink
What I wanted was the might
To chase my shadows away.
What I needed was a girl so bright
She'd see the darkness in me and stay.
She first came to me as a tool,
The key to my freedom, the path to the dime.
Oh, how could I be such a fool—
For she was my freedom the entire time.
Yet even when I was pushed to the brink,
And she stood by my side all the way,
I never dared be so hopeful as to think
That she'd see the darkness in me and stay.
Turns out she's full of surprises
Some that might cause others to wonder;
But her hidden knives and silly disguises
Have only made my heart grow fonder.
So even when my end is set and the
Strands of our bracelets are frayed,
Even when I'm gone I'll never forget
How you saw the darkness in me and stayed.
Webby read the poem, then reread it, then read it a third time, and by that point she was seriously worried that her face might melt straight off her head so she quickly slammed the journal shut.
That was—that was—wow. Hmm. Hmmmmmm. Was that a love poem? It wasn't overly sappy or anything like she figured a love poem would be, really. No grand declarations of affinity or dazzling metaphors of her beauty or anything. But also, it kind of felt like a love poem. Just—just a little bit. Just a tad.
Was that Webby, though? Was she making it out to be a love poem because she wanted it to be a love poem, when really it was just a normal friend poem? It was a really good poem, for sure, and it made her feel all tingly to know that Lena had written a poem about her. But was it a love poem? Did it matter if it was a love poem? Would that change how Webby felt? How did she feel?
Since Webby didn't know how to process any of that, she grabbed a pillow, pressed it against her face, and screamed.
It wasn't long before the door to her room burst open, and Huey, Dewey, and Louie stumbled in.
"Woah, Webby, is everything okay?" Dewey asked.
Webby removed the pillow from her face by chucking it into the nearby wall with an audible thud. "No! I accidentally gave Lena the wrong journal when she was leaving yesterday and so I accidentally read one of her poems and—and—I don't know how to handle this! I can't just tell her I read it because it's supposed to be private but—but how do I pretend I didn't see anything when it's—when it's that?!"
"You mixed up your journals?" Huey asked, confused. "How'd that happen?"
"Because they look the same! They're matching journals, Huey," Webby said.
Louie raised an eyebrow. "Why do you guys have matching journals?"
"Because we're best friends, duh! It's a best friend thing! I got us matching journals because I thought it'd be a cute best friend thing!" She threw back her head, wailing. "Gah, why do I have to be so adorable?! It's a curse!"
"Wait," Huey said. "So, if you have Lena's journal, then—"
Webby gasped, pupils shrinking into pinpricks. "She has mine." She jumped up, hands clutching at her head. "Oh no, oh no oh no oh no!"
"Is it really the end of the world if she reads your journal?" Dewey asked. "I mean, what's in there that—wait." He paused. "Oh, right. Debby and Leann. Hmm."
Webby groaned, dragging her hands down her face. "Uuuughhhhh, how could I be so stupid? This is the worst!"
"Maybe she hasn't read it yet," Huey offered.
Webby pulled her hands back down, eyes narrowing. "You're right! There's—there's a chance. It hasn't even been that long. And she would've said something if she'd noticed, right? If I can sneak into her house and switch the journals back before she realizes what happened, then everything will be okay! She'll never have to know!"
"I—wait." Huey frowned. "How'd you get there? I was going to say you could call her and explain the situation and switch them back."
"But then she'll ask me if I looked at her journal and then she'll know I read her definitely-not-a-love-poem!" Webby protested. "I can't let her know I read that, I—I'd crumple into a sad little ball of embarrassment!"
"Wait, it was a love poem?" Dewey interjected.
"I just said it definitely wasn't!" Webby fumed. "Pay attention!"
"You can always lie," Louie said with a shrug. "Tell her you didn't see anything."
Webby gasped, offended. "I can't lie to her, Louie! She's my best friend!"
"But you can break into her house?" Huey asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You bet I can!" Webby said cheerily. "Thanks for the help, guys!"
She turned around to head off. Dewey gave her a thumbs-up, Huey facepalmed, and Louie shouted a casual "You're welcome!" at her back.
Violet was relaxing in her bed, watching a fascinating documentary on an unsolved murder case from 1983, when her second-story window slid open. Violet's eyes flicked to the side and landed on Webbigail, who already had one leg through the window. She froze when she noticed Violet, and the two of them stared at each other for approximately eight full seconds.
"Hi, Violet," Webby said.
"If you're looking for Lena's room, it's the next window over," Violet supplied.
"Haha," Webby said without laughing. "Whaaaaaat?"
Violet continued to eye her impassively.
"Uh—thanks," Webby muttered embarrassedly, before exiting back the way she came and carefully sliding Violet's window closed.
Violet returned her attention back to her documentary. She got a good fifteen more minutes in before the next scheduled interruption took place; this time, it was Lena barging into her room and leaning smugly against the doorframe, holding a blue notebook up in one hand.
"Boom," Lena said. "Little bit of shadow magic, and the notebooks are swapped back, with Webby none the wiser."
"Mmhmm," Violet said. "Are you sure?"
Lena raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I said, are you sure?"
"What do you mean am I sure?" Lena asked. "Webby's journal was sitting right there on her nightstand and I swapped it with mine, of course I'm sure!"
"Right, right," Violet said. "But are you sure that's your notebook?"
Lena frowned at her, then opened the journal. "Okay what the hell."
"This is why it's important to be thorough, Lena."
"No, wait, but this doesn't make any sense," Lena said. "I definitely switched them. The only that this could've happened is if somebody had already… switched… them." Lena let out a sigh. "I hate this fucking family."
"How tragic," Violet said. "It seems your only recourse now is to approach Webbigail on even ground and address the matter with her directly. Which is what I told you to do in the first place, if you recall."
"None of this would've happened if you hadn't been snooping through my stuff," Lena accused.
Violet smiled. "Exactly. I'll make sure to mention it at the wedding."
Lena groan-shouted in exasperation, rolling her eyes and turning to leave. "You're the worst sister ever and I hate you," she shouted over her shoulder as she slammed the door shut.
"Love you too!" Violet called after her, before returning to her video.
Webby was pacing back and forth in her room, hands clutching her head. "—and so if they're swapped back then that can only mean that Lena swapped them back and that means that she knows they were swapped in the first place which means she looked and she also knows that I knew that which means she knows that I looked and I'm freaking out!"
"Really? Freaking out? I had no idea," Louie said dully, resting his chin in his hand from where he and Huey were sitting on her bed.
"I'm, like, super lost, but I support you," Dewey said, kicking his legs as he sat backwards in Webby's desk chair.
"I just—what do I do? I don't know what to do!"
"So, I will once again suggest you just… talk to her," Huey said, shrugging. "You know, like a person."
"What do I even say, though?!" Webby cried. "Oh, hey, Lena, sorry for reading your private poetry notebook, but it's cool because you read my notebook too, right?"
Dewey cleared his throat. "Um… Webby?"
"Really liked that love poem you wrote me, by the way!" Webby continued, throwing her hands out as she got deeper into her rant. "Oh, and what did you think of that self-ship piece I wrote with you? Wanna kiss about it? I mean—"
"Webby, you—" Dewey tried again, but Webby rolled over him.
"I mean, I just—it's just—it's unsalvageable! I'd melt! I'd melt into a tiny puddle of pink sludge and Granny would have to mop me off the floor!"
"Webby!"
"WHAT?!" Webby shouted.
"Lena's right behind you," Louie said, taking a sip of his Pep.
Webby froze, stomach dropping. "She's what?"
"She shadow-walked in here at the start of… whatever that just was," Huey explained.
"What?!" Webby turned her head, then stopped herself. "No. No, that's stupid, that's—no. You're kidding. Haha. Nice prank, trying to get me to look behind me like that, but it's not going to work!"
"She's literally right behind you, though," Dewey said, pointing a finger over Webby's shoulder. "That's what I've been trying to tell you."
"Okay, well—" Webby swallowed. "Well, if she's right behind me, why hasn't she said anything?"
Louie took another sip of Pep, audibly swallowing before he answered. "I think at first she was waiting for you to finish, but then you said 'Wanna kiss about it,' and I think you broke her."
Huey nodded. "Yeah, she's been, like, standing there staring at the floor bright red for like a while now."
Webby, who was also bright red, shook her head. "No. Nuh-uh. If I don't turn around it isn't real."
"Hey, Lena, can you hear me?" Dewey called, putting his hands around his beak like a megaphone.
"What's she doing?" Webby said anxiously.
"She's nodding at me," Dewey said. "Oh, now she's shaking her head in a 'stop talking' motion."
"Lena, blink twice if you want to kiss Webby," Louie called.
"Now she's dragging a finger across her neck," Dewey said.
"Oop—there's one blink," Louie said. "Waiting on the second."
"Now she's manifested a knife out of magic and is making a stabbing motion with her hand," Dewey said.
Huey frowned. "Isn't that kind of dangerous when you're right behind Webby?"
"You can't keep your eyes open forever, Lena," Louie said. "Honestly, what are you even trying to hide? We already know."
"Now she's reaching out her hand," Dewey said. "Her chest is glowi—"
A laser beam whizzed past Webby's cheek and exploded right next to Louie's head, lightly singeing a few of his cheek feathers.
"Oh my god she really is behind me," Webby whispered.
"Welp! That's my cue to leave," Louie said, getting up and climbing down the ladder. But as soon as he disappeared from the loft, he immediately poked his head back in. "Also Lena I totally saw that second blink! I hope you two have fun!"
He ducked out again before Lena could retaliate, but judging by how quickly Huey and Dewey left the room right after him, her expression must have been deadly. Unfortunately, that left the two of them alone in the room: Webby, still facing the vacated seats of her brothers, and Lena, behind her, making an expression that Webby could only imagine. Now that the room was silent, Webby could hear the soft breathing on her back, the slight shuffle of sweater on sweater.
Webby decided to bite the bullet, and twirled around, suddenly coming face to face with Lena. Like—very face to face. She'd been standing towards the back of her room, there wasn't much room for Lena to stand so their beaks were almost touching—
Webby took a step back. She was getting off topic. "Um—hi!" Webby said. "Is there, um, a reason you came over?"
Lena stared at her. Her brothers hadn't been lying; she was definitely bright red. Webby wasn't sure if she was much better. She doubted it.
Lena swallowed, looking away. "Um…"
"Okay, right, stupid question."
"No, it's—well." Lena shrugged. "Okay maybe a bit. I'm, um, glad you liked my poem?"
Webby wanted to die. "Yep."
"I… liked your story?" Lena continued, looking like she, too, wanted to die.
"Thanks," Webby said, her voice strained and weak.
"Mmhmm."
"I'm gonna sit down," Webby declared.
Lena nodded, and the two of them dropped down onto Webby's bed. Webby gave a big sigh, flopping backwards and throwing her forearm over her eyes.
"I'm sorry for looking," she said. "I know you don't like sharing your poetry. But it was just right there when I opened it, and I was curious, and…"
"No, no, it's like you said. I looked too." Lena sighed. "And we both tried to switch them back like nothing happened. We really are a pair, huh?"
"We're so stupid."
"Wanna kiss about it?" Lena said teasingly, cocking her head to the side.
Webby felt herself blushing all over again. "U-uhm—I—"
"That was a joke," Lena said quickly.
"Right. Of course."
"Unless you…?"
"Oh, no, I'm—I mean—" Webby swallowed. "How… far did you get into Debby and Leann?"
"Like chapter three," Lena said. "The scene in the grocery store."
"Oh! Oh, perfect," Webby said, her smile beginning to return. "So you remember what happens at the end of the grocery store scene?"
Lena was quiet for a second. "Hey, Webby, you wanna go get lunch sometime?"
"I'd love to," Webby said. "And—well, we already have each other's numbers, so the parallels kind of fall apart here, but—"
"It was cute, Pink," Lena said. Webby felt Lena's elbow dig into her side. "Just like you."
Webby giggled. "Thanks. You're cute too."
"I'm unknowable," Lena said.
"I know you," Webby said. "I read your poem."
"…Yeah, you did." Lena sighed, growing a bit quiet. Then she let out a groan. "God, I shouldn't still be embarrassed about that, it's just—ugh, it was so sappy."
"I thought it was very genuine," Webby said. "It was… nice to see you open up a bit, even if it was just to a book. Sometimes I worry that you keep everything all bottled up inside."
"Bad habit of mine," Lena admitted. "You've been amazing, though. You always listen. I just… I might be getting better at sharing my feelings with you, but it's still hard to share my feelings for you with you. You know?"
"I'll start, then," Webby said, reaching out across the covers and taking Lena's hand. "I love you. And—and not just like I love Granny or the boys, but, like… Lena, I don't think I could love anyone like I love you. So of course I'm gonna stay."
"Now look who's the sappy one," Lena joked.
"Stop deflecting!" Webby said, jostling Lena's arm. She couldn't keep from giggling, though. "It's your turn now."
"Fine, fine. I… I love you too." Lena swallowed. "I don't know, I'm new to loving people. It's weird. Messy. But good, though, I think. And so I'm pretty sure I love you, as much as I'm capable of it. I just… yeah. You're great. You're the first person who ever made me feel like myself. That means more than you could ever know."
Webby felt herself tearing up, but she did her best to choke back her tears. "No wonder you're such a great poet."
"Oh, shut up."
"I won't shut up!" Webby accused.
"I could make you shut up," Lena said, the smirk entering back into her voice.
Webby turned to her. "Wh-what?"
"Kidding," Lena said quickly.
Webby stared at her, and she stared back. "Lena, do you keep making jokes about kissing me because you want to but you don't want to be too forward in case I don't want to so you just keep saying you're kidding whenever you bring it up?"
Lena opened her beak, closed it, and then shrugged. "You got me."
Webby rolled her eyes. "C'mere, then, you idiot," she said, grabbing Lena's face and pulling it in.
Lena's sneakers squeaked against the polished floorboards as Webby walked her to the door. "So, when were you thinking for our, you know…" Lena shrugged. "Date?"
Webby giggled. "God, it's weird, isn't it?"
Lena smiled. "Weird but good."
"I don't know. Adventures can kind of come at any time so my schedule's a bit unpredictable. I'll text you?"
"Sounds good."
"Oh! You guys are done!"
The two of them turned to see Dewey peeking in on them from a nearby doorway. Not long after, his brothers joined him, pouring into the entrance hall.
"How did it go?" Huey asked.
"Did you kiss?" Louie asked.
"We got it sorted out," Webby said, ignoring Louie. "We're good!"
"Aaaaaand?" Dewey prompted.
"And we're still best friends," Lena said, giving what she hoped was a non-suspicious smile.
"Nothing else?" Huey asked.
"What do you mean?" Lena asked. "Should there be something else?"
Webby looked up at Lena, a bit confused, but then seemed to catch on. She turned back to the boys and said, "Yeah, what are you talking about? We just talked about it and sorted it out. It'll take a lot more than a misunderstanding to ruin our friendship!"
"Are you kidding?" Louie exclaimed, pulling at his hair. "You—but—all of that and you don't even—ARG!"
"Well, I'd better get going," Lena said. "See you later!"
"This is hopeless," Dewey said, shaking his head as the three of them retreated back towards their room.
Webby opened the door for her, and the two of them stepped out onto the porch. "You know we're going to have to tell them eventually, right?"
"Yeah. But this way is more fun." Lena rolled her eyes. "Besides, Violet's probably going to figure me out as soon as I walk in the door. Gotta have my fun somewhere."
Webby giggled. "See you around, then?"
Lena winked. "See you around, Debby."
"I—you—Lena!" Webby spluttered. "Oh my god, how long are you gonna tease me about that?"
Lena laughed, and fell backwards into the shadows without another word.