"Dude, sit," Seth patted the couch beside him as he started a new game on the Playstation. "I'll kick your ass," he offered.

Ryan flopped down next to his friend and shrugged his shoulders, grasping the controller in his hands. "You say that every time," he said, his voice tired and barely above a whisper.

Seth nodded and started the game, his eyes focused on the task at hand. "Yeah, buddy, I know. But someday, it's gonna be true. And you won't know when, you won't see it coming. It's just going to sneak up on you, and before you know it, Ryan, you will have experienced an ass-kicking of epic video game proportions."

Ryan gave him a side-long look and then turned his eyes back to the screen. "It is too early in the morning for your bull shit," he growled.

They had played two full games by the time Kirsten and Sandy made their way to the kitchen. "Morning," Sandy called out. He got two grunts in response before the telephone rang.

"Are you sure you want to do this again?" Ryan asked as Seth restarted the game again.

"Ryan," Sandy called, rounding the corner. "Telephone."

Standing and tossing his controller onto the couch, Ryan took the phone and sat at the kitchen table. "Hello?"

"Hey, little brother," Trey's voice sounded on the other end of the line.

He tried to cover his shock. His brother had been in jail for more than two years, and Ryan hadn't heard from in what felt like an eternity. "Hey," was all he could manage to force out over the knot in his throat.

There was an awkward silence. If Trey was expecting this to be easy, Ryan was proving him incredibly wrong. "So," he finally said, clearing his throat. "I just had a question for ya," he said.

Ryan traced a non-existent circle on the table, well aware that Kirsten was watching him from the island and the guys in the living room were probably eavesdropping, as well. "Oh, okay," he answered.

"Did you get your invite to TJ's birthday party?"

Ryan nearly choked. When TJ was born, nearly six years ago, Trey had wigged and broken up with his mom, Cassie. Ryan couldn't turn his back on them, though. They were his family – and he had willingly baby-sat his nephew so Cassie could work. He had been there when the kid took his first steps and said his first words. He loved the small boy as though he were the father TJ had never known.

"Good," Trey's voice brought him back. "Cassie was kinda worried, ya know? She got your address from Ma," he chuckled. "So, not the most reliable source, ya know? And when she didn't hear back from you," he rambled on.

"I got it," Ryan interrupted, his voice clipped. He hadn't meant to be snippy, but the last time he and Trey had a discussion about TJ, Trey insisted that his little brother butt out of the kid's life. He said that Ryan was making him look like the bad guy by spending all of his time and attention with the family Trey had abandoned. And Ryan had agreed to back off.

"Glad to hear it. 'Cause I know it would mean a lot to Cassie if you could make it, at least for a little while."

He sat, staring at the table, in absolute confusion. "I thought you wanted me to stay away from them," he muttered, his voice completely devoid of any emotion.

There was another silence, and Trey cleared his throat. "Things are different now, man. Cassie's been bringing TJ up on Sundays, we hang out like a family. We're tryin' to work things out," he stopped and took a deep breath. "Listen, I was supposed to get a day pass for the big event or whatever, but things didn't really swing my way, so. . ."

"I don't know, man," Ryan cut him off, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't really belong there anymore, ya know?"

Trey scoffed. "Come on, Ry," he coaxed. "This is your family – your roots. You just gonna turn your back on us for your great new life?"

He couldn't say "no." Ryan knew that he couldn't say "no" to Trey, to his family. If he never returned to Chino, never saw any of the people from the old neighborhood, he was really just pretending that he belonged in Newport, wasn't he? "Look, I'll call Cassie later today, okay?"

"Thanks, little brother," Trey said before hanging up.

Standing from the table, Ryan let out a deep sigh and made his way back to the living room. He lowered himself to the couch beside Seth and resumed his game. "So, I guess I need to talk to you about San Diego," he said.

Seth paused the game and shook his head, his eyes wide. "Um, no, you don't. You don't need to talk to me because you are not just bailing on me. Not now," he insisted.

Ryan felt guilty. He had promised Seth that he would be glad to go to the Death Cab concert weeks ago. And he really had looked forward to going, even if Marissa wasn't going to be there. But he couldn't get out of this one. "I have to, man."

Before Seth could say anything else, Kirsten stood in front of the television. "Seth – phone," she said, handing him the cordless telephone.

Seth appeared confused. No one ever called him, not even Summer. She usually came over and harped on him in person. "Um, hello?" he answered nervously.

"Seth Cohen?"

The voice was sweet and feminine. "Yeah?" was all he said – it wasn't anyone he knew. And if there was anything Seth Cohen didn't understand, it was strange women calling his home for conversation.

"It's Sara Spielman."

His face broke out into a wide smile as he stood and moved toward his bedroom. "Sarah, my God. How, um, how are you?"

She giggled slightly. "I'm great. How are you?"

He nodded as he pushed his bedroom door open and flopped onto the bed. "I'm actually quite fantastic," he said. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call? It's been, what, three years?"

"Five," Sara answered. "But I just got this invitation to a Camp Tacaho Alumni Reunion," she said.

"Ah, yes," Seth nodded his head, his eyes smiling as Summer made her way into the room. "I got my invitation on Monday," he told the girl on the line while his girlfriend made a strange face at him and went to the CD rack on his desk top.

"Are you going?" Sara asked, her voice hopeful.

Seth cleared his throat. The sound of her voice tweaked a slight string of hesitation he had over his decision to avoid the camp. "Um, no. No, I'm not, not going to, to be able to go," he answered.

Summer turned, her eyes narrowed in anger. The hand hit the hip, and Seth started to assure her that everything was fine, when Sara started to speak again. "Dammit. I thought maybe we could hang together again."

"Are you going?" he asked, standing and turning his back on Summer. He couldn't look her in the eye with Sara's voice in his ear.

"Trust me, I don't want to. I was supposed to road trip to San Diego for a Death Cab concert, but . . ."

"Shut up!" Seth exclaimed. "I have tickets to that show," he laughed. "Except everyone seems to be bailing on me."

"Yeah? Then maybe you could come to Tacaho? Keep me company?"

Her voice was so smooth now, so mature. It was as if he could see her cute little nose in his mind's eye, and her long, curly hair, and her braces. He knew she had probably changed since they were twelve, but the thought of this voice coming out of the Sara he knew was too much. "I don't know. I mean, there's this fashion thing," he started to explain, turning back to smile at Summer. She was sitting at his desk, her arms crossed, staring out the window.

"Fashion? Seth Cohen, did you sell out on me?" Sara accused. "Come on, man. I here there will be a rousing game of Capture the Flag, and maybe some tapioca pudding."

"I do love the pudding," Seth sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"And you are the Capture the Flag master, Seth. Come on. Don't leave me with all those freaks and geeks all by myself," Sara begged.

"Sara? We are those freaks and geeks, ya know?" he reminded, sinking to the bed again.

"True. Don't you ever get tired of pretending your not one, though? I mean, don't you ever just wish things were simple again? Like they were when we were twelve?"

Seth watched Summer turn in his chair and examine her manicure. He did wish he was back at Tacaho again. Until he talked to Sara, he didn't realize how much he had missed it, though. "Ya know what? Yes." Summer's head snapped up, her face baring an expression of fear. "I'll see you next weekend."

"Awesome. Thank you so much, Seth. I owe you. I promise, you're not going to regret this at all," Sara sputtered before hanging up the phone.

Seth clicked the phone off and smiled at his girlfriend. A smile seemed like the furthest thing from her mind. "So, Summer, you'll be happy to know I'm not going to San Diego," he quipped.

With a hand on her hip, she wiggled a finger in his face. "Seth Cohen, who the hell was that?" she demanded.

This had to be handled delicately. The wrong word could end his happy relationship for good, and possibly his hearing or vision. "Um, it was an old friend. Ya know what, not even a friend, really. It was just this girl that I used to know at summer camp."

"And you're going to this stupid reunion thing to be with her?" she asked, her voice trembling in a mixture of hurt and anger. "What the hell?"

Seth put his hands on Summer's shoulders and sat her back down on the bed. "Summer, you are my girlfriend, the one that I want to be with all the time. You are the only girl I want. Sara is just a friend, like Ryan. Not even like Ryan, because I haven't seen her in six years and we used to only see each other once a year before that. You have nothing to worry about."

She stood. "Who said I was worried?" She stomped her foot as he angled his head and shot her a smile. "You go to your stupid summer camp and I'll go to the Festival of Fashion, and we won't even miss each other," she pouted, turning to flee the room as quickly as she had entered.

Seth laid back on the bed and wondered how this always happened to him. It started with Anna, and then there was Zack, and now? Sara. Would they ever get a chance to just fight over each other, not some third wheel? Or were they destined to be plagued by outside parties forever? And why was Seth more worried about seeing Sara than he was about how pissed Summer was at that moment?