Amy walked down the school hallway on her way to gym class. The fact that she was going to gym class had her in a relatively bad mood. Nothing to the point of anger, but certainly by no means carefree. The worst part was she and Jig usually had gym together, but Jig was practicing for the play that was in a few days. That left Amy all alone to face the dangers of dodge ball…

When she came close to the gym doors she saw an ironic sight. Georgianna Prescott was at her locker. Of all the days that Amy had gone to gym, she had never seen Georgianna at her locker, except the day Bright mentions her. Amy took a deep breath and, because of the look on Bright's face from that morning, she approached the chess player.

"Uh, hi, Georgianna?" Amy said. The tall black girl turned to her with the same, solemn look she seemed to view everything with.

"Hi, Amy."

"Um, okay, look. I'm having this girl's night sleep over at my house this Friday, after the play, and I was wondering if you'd like to come?" Amy asked her. Georgianna looked at her, the faint semblance of surprise slightly lifting her finely shaped eyebrows.

"I'll understand if you don't want to. I'm only asking because my brother asked me to…" Amy said rolling her eyes. Georgianna's head tilted slightly to one side.

"Bright asked you?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't have bothered you with it, but you should have seen the look on his face!" Amy said smiling. Georgianna smiled too, slightly.

"Sure," she said. Amy's frame shot up straight and she glared at Georgianna as if not knowing what language she was speaking.

"You will?"

"Yeah, right after the play, right?"

"Um, yeah. Uh, can I ask why you're coming?" Amy asked her, completely confused. Georgianna gave a full smile.

"Because I want to see the look on his face."

During a break every musician left the band room except for Ephram and Jig. Even the teacher left for a break. Jig walked down the one large step and over to Ephram, who had by this point laid back down on the piano bench.

"Ow… my hands hurt…" he whined, rubbing the joints in his hands fervently. Jig sighed and sat on the linoleum floor by the bench, resting the back of her head on the side of Ephram stomach.

"Your hands hurt? I'm the one who's been plucking strings for the last half an hour…" she said. He inhaled quickly through his teeth.

"That's right; Rich had a lot of trouble with that part. You okay?" he asked her. She frowned, inspecting her fingers.

"I need a band-aid…" she said. Ephram sat up, causing Jig's head to tilt back slightly but she quickly straightened it.

"Let me see," he said. He grabbed the hand she was currently examining and pulled it gently to his eye level. Jig frowned and sighed.

"You're bleeding…" he told her worriedly. He let go of her wrist and she rubbed it in her other hand.

"I noticed that too."

"You can bleed from playing the cello?" he asked her.

"Seems unlikely, doesn't it?"

"It seems impossible…"

"But, what are you going to do?" she said shrugging.

"Get a band-aid?"

"It'll only come off."

"Better the band-aid then your finger…" Ephram said. Jig contemplated that for a few moments.

"Good point!" she said and stood up. She walked toward the sink where a box of band-aids was when Isaac walked into the room. He smiled when he saw her walking toward him. She smiled back and took a band-aid out of the box. Isaac walked over to her quickly.

"Here I'll get that. What happened?" he asked her worriedly.

"Oh, major plucking…" she said. Isaac nodded in an odd understanding. Ephram watched from the piano bench as Isaac took out the band-aid and wrapped it around one of Jig's fingers. Ephram couldn't help but notice how comfortable Jig was to Isaac's touch. It didn't bother him, it's just, she was never that comfortable under his fingertips. It's not that she was uncomfortable; it's just that when Isaac touched her, it was like, she was home. Ephram snorted slightly and the bell rang and the rest of the musicians walked into the room.

 "Okay Michael, I think I've nailed down what's wrong with you. You have Dyspepsia. That would account for the heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach, the gas, the constipation, diarrhea, nausea, and the heartburn. Plus the headaches," Andy told the rather large and shirtless man sitting on the examination table. Michael Tuttsmen took it like a man.

"Am I going to die, Doc?" he asked in a gruff voice. Andy laughed slightly.

"By no means. Your Dyspepsia is caused by an ulcer. I'm going to prescribe you a drug called cimetidine, it should induce the ulcer to heal," Andy said writing the prescription up and handing it to the man after he had his shirt on.

"Thanks Doc."

"No problem Michael."

"Doc, there's a call for you," Edna said poking her head into the office. Andy would have reprimanded her for not knocking first, but with Michael Tuttsmen; whatever Edna walked in on would have been punishment enough.

"I'll get it later…" he told her and turned back to Michael.

"It's Delia's school…" Edna told him. Andy fell silent. He then squeezed his eyes shut.

"Not again!" he whined.

For some odd reason, which Ephram would probably not be told of while he cared, Ephram got home before Andy and Delia. Despite practice and hanging out with Desi, he still got home before them. He even had time to order out from Gino Chang's which he had paid for with the money he found in the couch cushions. His dad seriously needed to have his pockets mended. He was setting dinner on the table when Andy and Delia walked through the back door. Both had the same, malcontent look on their face that was obviously a family characteristic. Ephram looked surprised as he saw the purple and brown circles around Delia's eye as she walked past him.

"What happened to you?" he asked her worriedly.

"Irony…" she replied and walked out of the kitchen, followed by her equally grumpy father. Ephram sighed, shook his head, and sat down to dinner by himself.

The Abbott family sat around the dinner table that night, feasting on leg of lamb and mashed potatoes within the skins. After the beginning of the meal it took a few minutes for conversation to begin.

"So, Amy. What selection of videos did you rent for your little revelries Friday?" Dr. Abbott asked her. Amy swallowed and answered him.

"Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Some Kind of Wonderful, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and X-Men," Amy said. Dr. Abbott spit slightly into his cup on the last one.

"X-Men? That ostentatious piece of rubbish? Why, for heaven's sake, would you watch that?" he asked her. Amy raised her eyebrows briefly.

"Eye candy…" she said. Her father fell into a displeased silence. Rose cleared her throat.

"Who's coming, dear?" she asked. Amy turned her attentions to her mother.

"Jig and Desi."

"Well that's nice."

"Oh! And Georgianna Prescott!" Amy added. At that Bright suddenly started choking with whatever he had been eating.

"Bright?" Dr. Abbott asked but Bright only continued choking. Rose became agitated but Dr. Abbott stood up and gave his son a few, healthy slaps on the back. A piece of lamb popped from Bright's esophagus to his plate. Bright coughed a little more but reassured his family he was alright. Amy only smirked at him and shook her head.

Ephram laid on his bed at about ten o'clock that night. He was dressed for bed, but otherwise not ready for it. He stared up at the ceiling though he wasn't really looking at it, so lost in his thought. In his CD player he had a recording of what he was going to play on Friday. His concentration was on his fingers, which he held above him at piano's length. He moved his hands and fingers according to the piano music he heard, trying to get the cause and effect to match up. He didn't hear the knock on his door but he did notice it opening. He looked over and saw Delia take a step into his room, dressed in her pajamas and with a head of messy hair showing that she had been in bed.

"Did I wake you?" he asked her, his eyes not so much on her but her eye. She shook her head and closed the door behind her. She walked over to his bed and sat down by his head, watching his fingers and hands still mechanically move to the music.

"There's this boy, at school… I think I like him, and I wanted to tell him, and Dad said that boys express friendship by punching, so I punched him, to make sure he understood. I went over to him today to apologize, but, he got scared, he thought I was going to hit him again, so he hit me first…" Delia explained to her older and supposedly wiser brother. He had a look of understanding on his face, stilled his hands, and sat up so he could look down on her instead of up at her.

"First crushes always suck. It's inevitable. No matter what you do, it always gets messed up. It's a part of life," he reassured her. She looked up at him with the big, brown eyes that she had that seemed to always show every length of human emotion in them.

"What went wrong with yours?" she asked him. He inhaled heavily and leaned back slightly.

"Her name was May Cleaver…" he said smiling and laughing slightly.

"Didn't she used to live next door to us?"

"Yeah, that's her. Our rooms shared a wall…"

"What happened?"

"One night I put a hole through it…" he told her. Delia suppressed a grin and nodded.

"Mine's still worse…" she said and he nodded.

"Somehow I don't mind losing that one," he told her and she laughed slightly.