For some reason Delia found herself inadvertently staring at Torres Villa in most of her classes. He seemed to be in the same mood everyday. Quiet, somewhat solemn in a cute sort of way, and he never seemed interested in the class work, but Miss Violet never yelled at him. Actually, Delia hadn't even noticed she had been staring at Torres until Murasaki nudged her in the arm during their art period.

"Can you pass the red paint?" Murasaki asked her. Delia blinked and nodded.

"Writing your name again?" Delia asked her, knowing she wasn't. Delia was just a little curious as to why Murasaki was painting a giant heart around the kanji on her paper with the paint Delia had handed her.

"Nope," Murasaki said as she closed her red heart.

"Then what does it say?" Delia asked her, now more than a little worried. Murasaki grinned and held her paper so Delia could see it.

"It says, 'Delia loves Torres,' " Murasaki said with a grin and a few, childish, laughs. Delia's eyes widened in surprise and then, unknowingly, she placed a smile on her face that was obviously a cover for embarrassment.

"I don't know what you're talking about…" Delia told her, redirecting her attention to her own project. It was of her dad, she thought… Murasaki just grinned.

"You've been staring at him every chance you get Delia. In a normal day you raise your hand eleven times, today only two. You've been staring at Torres, Delia. 'Sayonara High School boy', eh?" Murasaki asked her. Delia frowned slightly so Murasaki sighed and looked at her friend earnestly.

"Why don't you just tell him, Delia, see how it goes. You're nine, whatever he says it won't be life altering," Murasaki suggested. Delia nodded, and, for some reason that she didn't know but would damn for the rest of her life, she walked over to him.

"Okay, so, the grand total is, 47 references to god and the like for the Atheist, and twelve for the Christian. Some how that just doesn't seem right…" Desi said and she leaned on Ephram's shoulder as they walked down the hallway, her reading the notebook in her hands.

"Jig and I, well, I, assume that it's because Amy has more respect for it," Ephram suggested. Desi raised her eyebrows in consideration.

"I like that… I know since Isaac got here I haven't been spending as much time with you as I should. So… how are things with Jig doing, now that her other bestest best friend is in town?" Desi asked and Ephram chuckled slightly at 'bestest' but ultimately fell into a pensive frown.

"It's weird, actually. I'm not quite sure what my role is anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's like, when Isaac wasn't here, I was Jig's best friend, unquestioned. I did all of the buddy stuff with her, I made all of the worst jokes she'll ever hear with her, and other best friend stuff. But, now, Isaac is the one with the bad jokes, and I just feel like, like I'm competing for my best friend," Ephram said, rubbing the ridge of his nose with the hand that wasn't constrained by his girlfriend's shoulder. She smiled softly, in that understanding, thoughtful, caring way that makes all women attractive.

"Ephram, Isaac was still her friend even when you had the bad jokes, and even though he was still her friend, she still needed you in her life. You'll always be there Ephram, it's just who you are…" Desi told him. He scoffed.

"That's who I was for Amy, and when's the last time I talked to her?" Ephram asked Desi, and, despite the situation, he trusted Desi enough to not get mad about him mentioning Amy, as any other girl would. Hell even Jig got mad when he mentioned Amy.

"That was different. Amy was going through a time where she needed someone. You were there as long as she needed you."

"Yeah but what about Jig and her mo-ve, her and her moving to Everwood?" Ephram asked, almost forgetting that most of the town was oblivious to Jig's being an orphan.

"That was different… as well. That's something you and Jig have in common. You never had a loved one in a coma, which I know of anyway…" Desi said. Ephram smiled and shook his head.

"Not that I know of either. I guess you're right, you usually are," he said and she smiled.

"Yup! The odds usually work with me."

"Hey Desi, have you ever considered how many times a Jew makes a reference to god and the like in a 24 hour period?" Ephram asked her. A smile quickly spread the ends of Desi's lips.

For the first time, Andy found himself wandering aimlessly around Everwood's only public library. All of the other accounts of him entering the building were contained in the large front room, but now he found himself combing the large, mostly uninhabited parts of the building. In the front, he found that the more recent and probably the most checked out books, and in the back books none but true book lovers and intellects could enjoy. Toward the back, he did find a book he'd have to mention to Genji, Murasaki's father. The Tale of Genji was sitting there, hard bound and covered with a protective layer of dust. In fact, the entire experience was quite satisfying for Andy. It was quiet, and informative, and the book cases were old and had a very antique quality to them and their great mass that made one feel as if they were walking between ancient trees instead of bookcases. The only downside to the exercise was that every now and then Andy would hear the sound of the sole of his shoe being removed from some sticky part of the lonesome area. Most of the time he spent in libraries was during his student days, when he had certain things to find and a certain amount of time to do it in. He had always been in a frantic state then, but now, just grazing by the titles at his leisure, with no real purpose except to enjoy this quiet time, he really enjoyed libraries. Then, of course, as all such instances of peace go, his cell phone rang, and the sound echoed throughout the library's silence. To avoid embarrassment he answered it swiftly and made his inquisitive 'hello?' in a whisper. Later that day, or, later in his life, Andy would look back upon this moment and laugh, realizing how trying to avoid one embarrassment, can often lead you into a greater one, one you never even saw coming.

As Andy made his way toward the front of the library where the door was, he ran in a very odd looking manner, for he wished not to make a sound. He turned to Penny's desk, an explanation already forming in his genius mind. But, to even his surprise, and perhaps dismay, Penny was away from the position. But, still, Andy walked toward the desk and stood in front of it. On the counter lay a book. The Seven Against Thebes by Aeschylus. He checked the back of it, where in Everwood not only did it give the date for return, but the name of the person who should return it. And he smiled, despite his haste, as he read his name next to the date for two weeks from that day. He found a pad of paper near by and a pen, and before writing on it he looked around to see if Penny was advancing. Since she was still no where within sight, he wrote one sentence on the paper and placed it on her computer keyboard. He then left with the book tucked into the crook of his elbow.

A few minutes later Penny returned to her desk from whatever librarian job she had been doing. She smiled, first seeing that the book was gone, but frowned as she read the note that had stayed.

"Read it already, but thanks just the same. Andy," she read off of it. She scowled and pulled the one sheet off. She crumbled it in her hand and shot it toward the waste paper basket. She missed.

Delia sat outside of the Principal's office. Her legs were long enough to just touch the floor when she pointed her toes, so she spent her time watching her legs swing back and fourth, and the different ways the fabric surrounding her knees looked as they moved. Some parts would unfold and then fold back into the same places, while others would refold into entirely new places. Her hand still hurt, and there were some very large traces of blood still on it. No one had given her a chance to clean it off; they probably knew that with the blood there, she had no case.

For the first time that Delia could imagine, she cringed seeing her Dad walk into the room, and be immediately escorted to the Principal's office, by way of a corridor that allowed no contact between her and him at any point. That was a sneaky trick and even she knew it. Let the administration plant their view of what happened in the parent's brain, and let it take root, so no matter how much the student pruned, that view would always be the ground work. It was a dirty trick, something only a grown up would do.

About half an hour later according to the school clock, which Delia highly suspected of being slow to the minute, Andy emerged from the Principal's office on her side of the translucent glass wall. He had a look of pure… confusion, on his face. It was the kind of look a person usually only gets when they witness a penguin crossing a busy high way in Los Angles safely. Delia looked away from him to her knees, which were now still.

The drive on the way home was one of those too quiet rides. One where everyone is uncomfortable in it, yet the silence remained. When Andy pulled up in front of their house, he turned off the engine and they both remained still. Finally, Andy, being the adult of the two, turned to his daughter.

"You hit him in the face?" he asked, almost not believing the words, or, not believing which of his offspring he was saying it to.

"You told me to!" she came to her defense. For a brief instant that penguin look relit itself on Andy's face. He quickly blinked it a way.

"When have I ever told you to hit anybody?" he asked her. She sighed, not believing he had forgotten something she had remembered so well.

"When I didn't understand why Magilla was being so mean to me, you said that the way a boy tells you he likes you is if he hits you. Well, I wanted Torres to know I liked him, so I hit him, like you said," Delia explained. Now that penguin look had completely invaded Andy's poor face.

"Wait a minute… you like this kid?"

"I was only taking your parental advice to heart Dad, using your wisdom to get my point across. And personally, I don't think you knew what you were talking about…" Delia told him, getting out of the car, leaving Andy's bottom jaw in the unused ashtray.

"Who is this boy? Delia? Delia!"