Author's Note:
One small thing. Either no one noticed or no one dared tell me. I made a bit of a geographic mistake. Because Washington State University isn't actually in Washington D.C. My mistake. I'm German, I don't have to know these things. Right? ;o) Well, then I figure Adam's not looking at Washington State but at the College of Arts and Sciences at the University of the District of Columbia (UDC) in D.C. I need to go back to the older chapters some time and correct that.

To annieca: You said in your latest review "I like the idea about M.J. finding out about Adam and Bonnie but I'm still wondering how she figured it out."
I'm confused. Was I not clear enough? I thought it was pretty obvious how M.J. found out about Adam cheating on Joan. In the car M.J. was talking about her ex-boyfriend cheating on her and that she dumped him because of that. Adam got very uncomfortable when she was talking about that, relating M.J.'s words to himself cheating on Joan. M.J. notices his discomfort and figures out that something along those lines might have happened with Adam and Joan too. She confronts Adam, voicing her suspicion, which Adam confirms. Of course she doesn't know that it was Bonnie he slept with, but she doesn't even know Bonnie, so... Should I have made that clearer?
Or were you talking about something else? If something in my story is confusing, I'd like to know, so I can improve it. Sometimes it's hard to know if other readers can figure out just by reading the scenarios and situations that I have so clearly depicted in my head. Please let me know if something is unclear.

'Nuff said. Here's the next chapter for you.

--...----...----...--

Despite the fact that Helen had wiped it down barely half an hour ago, a faint smell of burnt food was still coming from the oven as she opened it to put the newly prepared cake pan with dough into it. When she had placed the cake inside, she started to clear used utensils away and put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. As she was about to wipe the counter with a cloth, the doorbell rang.

Drying her hands on a kitchen towel on the way to the door, she wondered who it might be. Joan, Luke, Kevin and Will all had keys. She opened the door to see a man she hadn't expected standing there in front of her.

"Mr. Rove," she exclaimed, not hiding the surprise in her voice.

"Mrs. Girardi," he greeted back. "I was wondering if maybe Adam was here."

"No. He went to Washington for the weekend, as far as I know." Helen frowned. "Wait. He didn't tell you?"

Carl looked to the floor, then lifted his head again. "We... had a fight before he went. He just said he would be gone for the weekend and left."

"Oh." Helen didn't know what to say. "Look, why don't you come in?"

Carl hesitated, but then stepped into the house. "Yes, okay." It was time he talked about his son with someone who had more perspective about it than his friends at the pub. Someone who knew about teenagers and their relationship with their parents.

Helen guided him to the kitchen table, where they both sat down. Offering Carl something to drink, they both went for water.

Helen looked at the glass in her hands. "Joan said Adam was going to Washington to take a closer look at the College of Arts and Sciences at UDC in Washington. He went with a girl from class, Mary Jane Clover. I don't know if you've met her."

Carl shook his head and Helen reassured him, "Don't worry, she's a decent girl."

He sighed and said, "I'm sure she is. It's not that. Sometimes it's just so hard to know what's going on with Adam. And I'm afraid I haven't exactly made things easier lately. I guess we've had this fight coming for a while."

Helen had to smile. "They're at this age where they want to become more independent and it's so hard to let go."

"I just wish there was some manual, something to guide you along. You know, ever since my wife died... We were pretty close after that for a while, but he started retreating into his own little world. I think I eventually gave up trying to figure him out. And now I know I shouldn't have."

Helen took another sip from her glass and said, "They're teenagers, they don't want us to figure them out. They want us to let them grow up, occasionally lending a hand if they need it."

"Yeah. I'm afraid I haven't been a very good father because that's exactly what I haven't been doing." Carl rubbed one hand over his face. "And you'd think that after all that happened, I would realize that I'm the only parent he's got left."

Helen hesitantly put a comforting hand on Carl's arm. "It's a start that you've realized now... Why don't you talk about this with Adam after he returns? I'm sure you'll be able to work things out."

"I hope so," Carl stated. "We hardly talk anymore. I think it's time that we did."

"That's also a part of teenagers growing up. They don't trust you with everything that goes on around them anymore. That's something every parent has to come to terms with." Helen let out a short laugh. "And believe me, I've been through this. It's never easy."

Carl now smiled a slightly sad smile too. "Good to know that it's a universal thing." He stood up. "I should go. Thank you, Mrs. Girardi."

Helen also stood up and offered her hand. "Please. Call me Helen."

Carl took her hand and shook it, offering, "Carl."

"Okay, Carl," Helen said. "Have a good night."

"You too," he replied, leaving the Girardi house. Helen lingered in the doorway a second or two, wondering if Adam's father knew about Joan and Adam breaking up. But even if he had been that bad a father as he'd said, parents had a way of noticing these things.

--...----...----...--

"Adam, we're here," M.J. said, looking over at him after she had parked the camper in her aunt's driveway.

Adam had fallen asleep in the passenger seat a while ago and M.J. hadn't had the heart to wake him up. She hadn't minded driving all the rest of the way to Washington, it had only been a little over an hour since they had stopped at the motorway station.

When Adam had nodded off next to her, she had rummaged around in the center console and found a few tapes. She had picked up one that was labeled 'K's Choice' and had put it in to see what was on it since she didn't recognize the name. She had found it to be a sort of acoustic and somewhat melancholic soft-rock mix with a slightly hoarse female singer that had spoken to her immediately, so she had listened to that all the way up here at a volume that wouldn't disturb Adam.

She stretched her arms and back and combed through her curly hair. Adam was still knocked out in the passenger seat, so she softly touched his shoulder. "Adam, wake up."

Adam now stirred and opened his eyes. M.J. smiled at him. "Hey, sleepyhead, we've arrived. Voilà, my aunt's house." She pointed at the flat roofed building in front of them.

Adam emitted a low moaning sound as he rubbed his neck and moved his head from left to right to get the stiffness out of his muscles from the awkward position he had been sitting in. "You drove all the way? You could have woken me."

M.J. shrugged. "Naw, it was okay. I listened to one of your tapes. Besides, you were so out of it that I didn't dare wake you. In case you would, you know, lunge out at me or something." The right corner of her mouth moved up as she smiled lopsidedly.

"Yeah, I get real violent when disturbed," Adam said amused, picking up on her comment.

"Come on, let's get going. Aunt Mary left two weeks ago, there might be a few cobwebs to get rid of."

They both got out of the car, took their bags from the back and entered the house, M.J. leading the way with Adam following her inside.

--...----...----...--

"Joanie, oh dream of my sleepless nights!" Kevin exclaimed cheerily as Joan entered the kitchen, shaking the sleeves of her rain jacket so that a few raindrops landed on the floor.

"Nightmare, more like," she retorted at her older brother, who was sitting at the kitchen table alone, reading something in a magazine. Joan took off her light blue jacket and hung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. She got an apple from the kitchen counter and sat down at the kitchen table as well.

Absently taking a bite from the apple, she stared ahead with an empty expression, her mind set on Mrs. Hargrove and her family. What had driven her and her grandson apart in a way that they weren't talking to each other anymore? And hadn't she seen the same thing happen with her dad and his half-brother Richard? She hadn't been able to make them talk to each other again, what made God think she could pull it off this time?

"Earth to planet Joan, anybody home?" she suddenly heard Kevin's voice addressing her.

She jerked her head up. "Sorry? Were you saying something?"

"I was wondering how long it'd take for the apple to grow mold before you took the next bite."

Joan looked at the apple and then took another juicy bite. Between chewing, she said, "Kevin, I was thinking..." she said carefully.

Before she could elaborate, Kevin shot back another sarcastic reply. "Oh, gee, who would have thought? My sister can actually think." He flashed her a toothy grin, but then realized that there seemed to be something on Joan's mind. The smile vanished from his face and in a more earnest voice, he asked, "Anything I can help with?"

"Yeah, I think actually you can," Joan replied, looking at him hopefully. "You know Mrs. Hargrove, the old lady from two houses over, right?"

Kevin nodded and Joan wondered how she could put this, so it wouldn't sound that Joan was sticking her nose where it didn't belong. Because if she told Kevin exactly what had happened, she was pretty sure he would be questioning her motives and not get her the information she needed. So she would bend the facts a little, she decided.

"She has a grandson and she doesn't know where he is, she hasn't talked to him in years. She seemed so sad about that, and I wondered if you could maybe do some research to try and locate him for her. I'm sure it'd mean a lot to her. She might not have a whole lot of time left."

Kevin's face scrunched into a confused frown for a moment. Joan could see he wasn't sure whether to say yes or no, so she added in her sweetest begging voice, "Please?"

That did it, and Kevin said with a sigh, "Okay, I'll see what I can do. What's his name?"

Now it was Joan's turn to sigh. "That's the thing. I don't know."

"Joan, you have to give me something to work with."

"I know," she said in frustration. "All I know is that Mrs. Hargrove has a daughter named Clarissa. I've seen photos, she's a little pudgy, blond hair. She must be around 50 or 60 now. She might have married, changed her last name. That's all I have," Joan said, sounding disheartened suddenly. She realized that really wasn't much to go on.

Kevin also sounded doubtful, but reassured Joan, "Okay, I'll give it a shot. I promise."

Joan's face lit up into a smile. "Thanks," she said, getting up from her chair. "You're a star!"

"Can you say that a little more often?" Kevin teased, calling after Joan. "Like, when I've done your chores for you."

Joan gave him a dismissive wave as she was walking up the stairs, much like the God-wave. "Yeah, yeah, whatever pleases my big brother." She kissed her hand and blew him a mock kiss before she vanished from sight up the stairs.

--...----...----...--

"Adam, dinner's ready." M.J. peeked her head through the door she had opened a crack after softly knocking.

Adam marked the page of the book he was reading with a dog-ear and put it down next to him on the king-size bed as he stood up. He followed Mary Jane to the kitchen that was furnished and decorated in a matching gray-blue and birch-colored wood. Everything looked immaculately clean and almost sterile. Adam wondered if this kitchen had ever been used for cooking.

M.J. guided him to a round, wooden table standing on one side, where Mr. Clover already sat. Plates were set for three and differently shaped cardboard boxes and aluminum containers with Asian writing were scattered on the table. As Adam sat down, M.J. shrugged, "We ordered in, neither of us are great cooks. Hope you like Chinese."

"Yeah, sure," Adam answered. It wasn't his favorite, but he usually wasn't fussy when it came to food. Truth be told, sometimes he didn't even care what he was eating. Eating was just a distraction anyway.

M.J. pointed to the cartons and containers in consecutive order. "Roasted duck with peanut sauce, Chop Suey, sweet and sour pork and, uhm..." She peered inside the last of the boxes. "Fried noodles with chicken. You're not a vegetarian, are you? Gheez, should have thought about that earlier."

Adam smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not a vegetarian."

"Good. Then dig in," said Mr. Clover.

Adam scooped some fried noodles onto his plate and when he wanted to pick up knife and fork, he only found two chopsticks next to his plate. He picked them up and admitted, "Um, I... I can't eat with chopsticks."

Mr. Clover looked at him sternly. "Oh. Well, since we don't have any other cutlery, I think you'll have to."

Adam's aghast look made both M.J. and Mr. Clover laugh. Mr. Clover smiled a warm smile at Adam. "Relax, Adam, I was joking. I think we can take pity on you. Mary Jane, can you get him a knife and fork?"

Still laughing, M.J. stood up and went to one of the drawers. As she handed a now smiling Adam the silverware, she said, "Have you ever tried eating with chopsticks?"

"No, not really."

"Come on, I'll show you. It's time you learned it."

The next ten minutes were spent with a lot of awkward handling of the chopsticks on Adam's part, spilling noodles on his t-shirt and the tablecloth, and basically not managing to get much food into his mouth. But after a while and a lot of laughing fits, he finally managed to get the hang of it and use the wooden utensils to transfer food from his plate to his mouth without it ending up somewhere in between.

Adam looked down at his grease-stained t-shirt after finishing dinner. "Wow, that was fun." After a pause he added, "And messy."

"Yeah, come on, let's get you into a clean t-shirt." M.J. took Adam by the hand and half dragged him to his room.

Adam was taken aback by the sudden, unexpected physical contact. He had barely known the girl for more than two weeks, and already she was this comfortable with him. Was Joan right to be jealous? Definitely not on his account, but he suddenly wasn't sure about Mary Jane's motives.

Reluctantly, he let M.J. guide him to the room he was staying in. She plopped onto his bed and picked up the novel he had been reading as if it was the most natural thing to do. Adam rummaged around in his bag to get out a clean t-shirt. To M.J. he mumbled, "I'll be right back," and went to the bathroom to change his shirt.

When he came back, M.J. was still sitting on the bed, but this time with a laptop next to her, whose screen showed a page of text in a word editor. Adam stuffed the dirty t-shirt back in his bag and then also sat down on the bed. Looking at the back of the laptop screen from opposite M.J., he asked, "You brought homework?"

"Homework? Don't be silly," M.J. said in mock indignation. "No, this is what I do for fun."

"And 'this' is what exactly?"

"I write stories," she said simply. It sounded like it was the most natural thing in the world. But truth be told, Adam didn't know any teenager who wrote anything other than homework or school assignments, and then only because it was mandatory. But then, Adam also didn't know any other teenager who sculpted or painted voluntarily if it wasn't for school. 'Guess Mary Jane and I aren't all that different after all,' he thought.

"Totally cool, yo," he approved. "What kind of stories?"

"Oh, different stuff. Sometimes it's children's stories, sometimes stories for young adults."

"And does anyone ever read them?"

"My dad's a publisher with Random House and he managed to cut a deal to get one of my children's stories printed some time this year. Isn't that awesome?"

"Unchallenged," Adam said enthusiastically.

"Adam, can I ask you something?" M.J. looked up at him from the computer screen, the white light reflecting on her already pale face in the dimly lit room.

"Yeah, sure," he answered.

"I... I saw your drawing that you made in class the other day. You know, the one from Wuthering Heights."

Adam involuntarily had to swallow because it didn't exactly bear happy memories. He looked down, his fingers fumbling with a crease in the duvet but lifted his head again as M.J. continued. "And Lisa Logan told me your paintings and sculptures in arts class are pretty good. She showed me the one that was still on display, and I thought it was wonderful. And I was wondering... you know... I'm still looking for someone to illustrate my book."

It wasn't really a question, but Adam was observant enough to read it as one. "You're asking me to illustrate your book? Wow. That's... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to decide immediately. I think you'd want to read it first, right?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"I still have a printed copy somewhere, I'll go look for it. Hang on."

M.J. left the room and returned minutes later with a few sheets of paper in her hands, which she handed to Adam. "I know it doesn't look like much this way, but it's only the first draft. Maybe you can just read it and I'll tell you about what I have in mind later, if you like."

Adam took the sheets and said, "Cha, I'll get right on it."

"Great!" said M.J. happily.

Adam turned over to lie on his belly on the bed and switched on the lamp on the bedside table to be able to read while M.J. started typing again on her laptop. Adam didn't mind the rhythmic clicking of the keys being pressed down—there was a certain soothing quality to it.

After Adam had finished reading the story, he sat up and didn't neglect to notice the expectant look in M.J.'s eyes. He didn't disappoint her when he said honestly, "This could be really cool with the right pictures to go with it."

"Yeah," she smiled at him, "and that's what I want you for." She motioned for Adam to give her the sheets of paper back. "Here, let me show you."

Adam and M.J. went over the story excitedly, exchanging ideas and creative suggestions, both sitting cross-legged next to each other on the bed now, pointing at bits and pieces of text on the different pages.

Outside, from the hallway, Mr. Clover approached the guest room, whose door was ajar so that he could peek in. With a smile on his face, he studied the two teenagers engaged in animated discussion over something his daughter was showing to Adam. Probably one of her stories, he guessed. He was really glad that Mary Jane seemed to have made fast friends in Arcadia. He had been worried a little, because Mary Jane usually wasn't the outgoing, extroverted type who would go out of her way to meet new people. And the young man she had brought along seemed to be a decent guy, so he didn't really worry about the two of them spending time together here.

He knocked on the door and Mary Jane's and Adam's heads whipped around in unison. "I'll turn in now, you two. I'm tired from the long drive. Don't stay up too late, all right?"

M.J. looked at her dad and told him reassuringly, "Don't worry, we won't stay up all night."

"Okay, guys. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night, Dad."

"Good night, Mr. Clover," it echoed from the room before Adam and M.J. continued discussing M.J.'s book-to-be.

--...----...----...--