A/N: This chapter is so damn short...

IndesElfwine: In reference to your last review, you have a Kyle voodoo doll? I want one. You should market them, that'd be so cool! And don't worry, Freddy's not gonna get Marta involved, that's what he said, if you pay close attention to the last thing he said.

Kiie: Why thank you. I plan on finishing this one shortly.

wyverna: Yes. Poor me. I read your new story. Loved it! Did you get my review? Going into a character's background is fun. I'm glad you picked up on the differences and similarities between Freddy and Summer's living conditions and family lives. And yes, I do swear a fucking lot. I guess I'm just a serious person, I think I mentioned that in my bio somewhere...hm...what does my bio say? I'm not very good at comedy, I think, which is actually the hardest genre to write (in case you didn't know). You read some of my Recess stories? Which ones? I'm glad you liked them. Oh, and you were talking about Greenday in your last review. I had written up this long ass response to your Greenday conversation (because Greenday is my favorite band and all) and then the site refreshed or some shit like that and pissed me the hell off. Anyways, I had said that Dookie is my favorite album, but that's because it was the one that got me hooked. I used to go over to my, no ex-best friend's (the stupid bitch) house, and she had the Dookie album, and it was all I would listen to. That, or Sublime. I think it drove her up the wall. Nimrod isn't a bad album, it just has "Nice Guys Finish Last" on it, and that's got to be my least favorite Greenday song (which isn't saying much, because it's still preferred listening over pretty much everything else). AND what are you talking about American Idiot hasa FEW GOOD SONGS on it, THE WHOLE DAMN THING IS BLOODY BRILLIANT! It's one of those rare albums that you can't just listen to one song, you have to listen to the whole CD all the way through, or it's just not the same. It's like Pink Floyd's 'The Wall', or Supertramp's 'Breakfast In America', or Queen's "A Night At the Opera". Every single song on it is goddamned WONDERFUL, and it's the first time in a long time we've been given a treat like that. Oh, and because of you, I bought The Zuton's CD. It's pretty cool, though it kind of sounds like it might be Christian Rock (lot of God references in there), which I think is an oxymoron. No offense, if you listen to that kind of stuff.

Laura: You'll die? Man, that's one hell of a way to motivate a writer. Thanks.

Rachel: Thanks for the review. I like that you're getting into it, but it kind of unnerves me when people tell me what they want me to write, because I do actually have this whole story planned out. I know, that's a shock considering a lot of author's on this site just write fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants style. And hey, YOU ROCK!

iamnotachipmunk: IT'S NOT OKAY! THE SITE HATES ME! Okay, that's over with. And don't gnaw your finger off, I'm sure you need it! And that would be painful. I really wouldn't want to be responsible for you missing a digit.

Parcie05: Thanks for the sympathy. Yeah, the review was short, but I got your e-mail! Did you get mine?

Unlikely-to-bear-it: I'm glad you like this story. No, I'm not an alien. And I haven't given up on A Simple Kiss, it will be continued, so don't fret. I just have to get this finished. Check out my Daily Note on my bio, I give updated scheduling for which fics will be worked on when.

closetwriter: I was particularly fond of the Cat In the Hat reference too. And thanks for the Happy birthday.

Nanners-77: I went shopping today, so I'm much better now! Yeah, the last chapter wasn't so bad, it just didn't come out the way I wanted it to. Did you have fun in Michigan? Were you visiting family or something? Hallmark cards are great! I think people just like getting cards, though...huh...oh, and you had most of the differences on the bands right!

sweetcaroline: Yeah, it just didn't come out the way I wanted. That's why I didn't like it. I wanted Mr. Jones' jibes to be a bit more subtle, and a bit more painful. And other stuff. I can't remember what the chapter before last was about...maybe I should go look at it...hm...aren't all the chapters really just essential to the plot? In the long run? How old am I? Well...I'm not old enough to drink and gamblelegally, but I'm old enough to walk around the Strip past midnight. Did that help? Good luck on getting your permit, and yeah, I kind of had fun with the family. We didn't really do anything! We sat around with me saying, "When's my party? Let's go somewhere. Let's do SOMETHING!"

radiancex: Near tears? I didn't want to make you cry! I just wanted a little pang of sadness! Yeah, I have to agree. Summer and Freddy belong together. And anyone who says different is just...well...entitled to their own opinion. HOWEVER WRONG IT MAY BE! Wow, you're gushing. And I'm blushing. And I...can't think of anything else that rhymes...

dozengirl: So my opinion doesn't matter? I see how it is. J/k. Thanks!

Alex: Yes. Curse like a sailor, I do. Actually, that's a misdomeanor. Sailors (Navy/Marines), they're not allowed to curse. Very stricts on that, they are. Oh, and I loved your last review! So much emotion...it was kind of scary. I love your ways of describing Kyle. Rat droppings...hehe...I am evil. I'm left-handed, that there is proof! And yeah, I knew Eleni was the wrong name (too much SoR). Keep in mind, I really haven't seen the Chipmunks in like...forever. I know they make new episodes (or movies, or whatever), but they're not the same. The Chipmunks (the old episodes and movies) used actual real songs, and the new movies they make are kind of like the new Scooby Doo movies. They make up these lame songs, and they've got these lame plots, and it's all just...lame. Makes me nostalgic for the old eps. But thanks for giving me the right name, it would have bugged me for awhile!

vaguelyspecific: (I put you last, because you reviewed twice and other junk) HORRIBLE ENDING? What do you mean? You don't like it? Awww...that hurts my feelings. I'm over it! I don't think the next few chapters will be that great...but that's just me. Reviewing out of order does kind of throw you off, huh? Yay! I do feel special! I'm a special person! My cousin tells me that all the time. Disfunction and romance, my two strongest areas of writing (well technically, fantasy and sci-fi are, but...we won't go into that...) I didn't know that Summer-has-to-flee-but-can't part was very funny...wow. Yeah, their families do suck. I haven't really gone into most anyone elses. Lawrence had a moment where he completely went into bitch-about-his-family mode, but that's about it. It's not so much that Marta is unfeeling, as naive. She doesn't understand the difficulties others have to go through. She kind of has it in her head that she can just come along and help Freddy straighten his life out, because all he needs is someone to say, "you can do it". When the truth is, he needs serious help. He's a little alcoholic, manic depressive, something...something. I'm sad that Freddy drinks alot too, and I thought that phone call would be a nice little additive to the story. And yes, Summer is growing a backbone, of sorts. I think in my reply to you (that got deleted), I just kind of lectured on why you shouldn't be so against modern music. I said something about how...you shouldn't say you love music if you don't really LOVE music. I mean, I listen to like everything, anything that doesn't suck. Yes, that means I listen to R&B, rap(these two not so much anymore, as that areas kind ofdead in good material as of late),country, jazz, swing, opera, classical...I love music, what can I say. And while, yes, rock is my music of choice, I'll listen to anything else, so long as it's good, and it's about making good music, and not just throwing crap together for people to dance to and the artist (because they're not musicians) to make money. Um...I also said something about...oh, I get pretty defensive of my music too. I mean, I won't cram my ideals about music down someone else's throat, and if they like something that I think sucks, I won't say anything. It's only when they turn around and tell me my music sucks, that I'll kindly point out how their "garbage only has a two week lifespan, and and the weak lyrics are only made better by the fact they're muffled by the crappy back beats that make me want to blow my fucking brains out to stop the incessantly horrible noise." Yup. My reply might have offended you, though, it wasn't meant to. I hope this doesn't offend. I hope I haven't offended anyone. I don't try to, or anything. Um...onto the fanfic.

ENJOY!

Chapter 15: Never To Have Loved At All

The next few days of school, Freddy never showed, though he would go to band practices at Dewey's. None of the School of Rock members asked him about it. With Freddy, they'd always found it was better to just not ask. He always gave adverse reactions to concern. Usually it was anger, sometimes, it was a blatant lie, and other times he just shook his head and muttered something inaudible. And it was always impossible to predict which reaction he would give. So they left it alone. It was much the same reason no one commented on how his hangover glasses had become a permanent accessory, that his drumming was sloppy, and when he chose to walk home after practices instead of taking the rides offered by various band mates.

Summer seemed distant now, as well, even as she had been warming up to the band members again. She sat at the end of the table, away from the others, next to Katie. She would eat in silence, and look around the cafeteria absently. Then she would walk alone to her classes, almost like an automaton. The first day, everyone made a point of asking her what was wrong, but she was unresponsive, simply mumbling something about being "fine". Nobody seemed to notice how she would glance to the back of the room, or make a habit to scan the first class she had with Freddy alertly, everyday, and how she seemed to falter with disappointment when he never walked in. Nobody seemed to notice how hollow her eyes were, and how she barely even bothered with her looks those days. When she failed to raise her hand to answer questions, in those few days, it was a shock to her peers and classmates. But she would say nothing and they gave up asking her about it. Katie seemed to be the only person she would really speak to. Everyone else was given a grunt of greeting and a few nods or shakes of the head.

After a similar acknowledgment Friday morning, Tomika slumped against her locker, fumbling with the lock. She sighed, tightening her grasp on her backpack strap. She was tired of dealing with all the emotional crap, trying to make sense of what was happening to their once seemingly tight-nit group. She hated to admit it, but it was starting to seem like winning Battle of the Bands was not worth it. She felt a body slink beside her, and she smirked at the gray metal door in front of her.

"Hey, Alicia," she mumbled.

"God, I'm so sick of this."

Tomika turned her head to peer at the shorter young woman. Alicia was leaning heavily against the wall of lockers, her back pressed into the smooth metal, her eyes rolled up to stare at the ceiling. She had her arms crossed over her chest and she was shaking her head. The smaller girl looked annoyed, to say the least.

"Sick of what?" Tomika questioned, though she knew the answer. It was the same thing they were all sick of. Summer. Why couldn't the girl just make up her mind? Did she hate them? Or like them? Which was it? Because everyone was really confused on the matter.

"I say 'Hi, how's it going today?' and she says, 'hun'. I say, 'so, did you get your math homework done?' She says, 'hun'. You know, I really don't speak disgruntled white girl," Alicia muttered.

"I'm sure she's just burnt out," Tomika reasoned, though she didn't really believe it. She just felt the need to speak up for Summer, even if she didn't know why. Summer didn't seem the person that deserved being defended in the situation. Tomika had always spoken for the underdog, standing up for those that she knew had good hearts. She couldn't stand someone picking on another person. She liked to try to see everyone's side of the story, but she couldn't figure out Summer.

"Burnt out? That's a load of shit…hell, I'm burnt out," Alicia argued, her voice growing shriller the more she spoke, "After all these damn band practices. Is Zack going to write any lyrics that aren't shit? Now, if you want to talk about burnt out…that boy is frying his brain cells on energy drinks and caffeine pills trying to stay up late and get something decent out. All for her, and she doesn't even have the common decency to spill out a pleasant hello in the goddamned morning!"

Tomika flinched slightly against the sharpness in her friend's voice. She sighed, smiling half-heartedly and shaking her head, shrugging.

"I don't know what to say."

"Say you agree with me," Alicia pressed, "Because most everyone else in the band does. We're tired of her shit and we know this battle is going to be a waste of our time. Because she's giving us the cold shoulder again, and we didn't even do anything the first time."

"I know what you mean," Tomika sighed, "And I wish I knew what to say. But the truth is, Alicia, I still believe that deep down, Summer is our friend and she knows it. That she cares about us, and deep inside, she wants us to win the Battle of the Bands." Alicia took a deep breath, closing her eyes and lowering her head. She looked thoughtful a moment, before licking her lips and looking up to Tomika.

"God, I hope you're right."

"Yes, well…" Tomika mumbled, fidgeting with the lock once more, "Zack's lyrics aren't so bad."

"Are you kidding me? Even he keeps saying how much they suck," Alicia cried and Tomika smiled.

"Yeah. And I am worried about him, actually. He does look a little like a zombie…"

"Don't we all? Gordie's been working day and night on that light display, he's out of it. Heather Franklin was wearing pastels, she walked right by Billy…nothing, not even a comment on how her Fall make-up was a total clash with her definite winter skin-tone, not to mention, he was wearing gray socks with his blue slacks today! Katie looks like the Goth that time forgot, Summer's got her spinster frump look on, please tell me that Leonard is not adopting a grunge style, and Freddy!" Alicia screeched, "Oh, damn, don't get me started on that boy! He looks like the next young victim of HIV! I'm worried about my girl, Marta, too. With the love of her life practically killing himself with alcohol poisoning, she's been on fritz end. It's like I can't even talk to her anymore. I get a call in the middle of the night from her asking, 'do you think I should call him and talk to him about how missing so much school isn't good for his grades'! Best friend or not, I am not taking late night phone calls. Girl, I need my beauty sleep!"

Few people understood Alicia and Marta's relationship. One was the epitome of saintly hood, the other a slick sister with a bad mouth. But they were the best of friends, always laughing to their own inside jokes, always spending the night at one another's houses, spending every possible minute of every day together. Tomika believed they got along so well because of their differences. Alicia was always convincing Marta to do things she otherwise would never do, and Marta was always talking Alicia out of taking things to a dangerous extreme. They balanced each other. One was the yin to the others yang. And, of course, since fifth grade Tomika had been good friends with both girls as well, though, she knew she would never be as close to the girls as they were to one another, they still considered her a best friend as well. But she often played mediator in their friendship, trying to give good advice to keep Marta and Alicia reminded of how good a friends they are.

"You'll just need to talk to Marta," Tomika said, finally managing to open her locker and shoving her books in, then pulling a few out, "Tell her that you love her and all, but she needs to chill out. Freddy will do his own thing, we all know that, and the only person who may be able to get through to him is…probably Dewey…"

"Or Summer," Alicia put in, "He listened to her more than he listened to Dewey sometimes. But honestly, I don't think Summer's going to be much help in this situation. She's barely speaking to any of us. To go out of her way and try and set a guy, that most times I don't even think she likes, straight, that doesn't seem likely to happen."

"I know it's hard to see, but Summer and Freddy are good friends," Tomika argued, "And she cares about him…I think. But you may be right, Dewey is our best bet in this. We just got to tell him that Freddy's been ditching class all week."

"Yeah, and somehow not let the guilt of being a tattle-teller get to us," Alicia laughed, before straightening, gazing somewhat over Tomika's shoulder, "I'll see you later, alright girl?"

"Huh? Yeah…okay…but we have the same class, let's just walk together," Tomika replied, feeling the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck tingle with paranoia. What was Alicia looking at, and why was there a sly smile on the shorter girl's face?

"No, I'll definitely see you later, Tomika," Alicia insisted, before turning and heading down the hall. She spotted Marta and joined the blonde. Tomika turned slowly, her body tense. She blushed when she saw the slim Asian boy shyly standing a ways down the hall daring a few glances her direction. She took a deep breath, before making her way over towards him.

"Hi, Lawrence," Tomika greeted, and he nodded, smiling meekly.

"How are you?" he questioned quietly.

"I'm fine," Tomika answered softly, "You?"

"Um…good. Can I…would you mind if I…well…walked you to class?"

Tomika smiled, looking up at him through her lashes. Lawrence was blushing furiously, staring hard at the tiled ground, and his smile was a bit awkward.

"I would like that," she told him. Together they slowly began down the hall, and then Lawrence paused.

"Would it be okay if I…um…carried your books for you?" he asked carefully. She nodded, and he took the text, binder, and few folders she held.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

They began walking again, now a few people watching them, whispering somewhat. They made their way steadily, eyes staring at the ground, moving as though angled, precarious of their next movement. Their hearts were pounding, and neither seemed certain as to what they were doing. Recognizing the nervousness and self-doubt in Lawrence, Tomika took a deep breath, deciding to make a very daring move as she slipped her hand in his own. She was relieved, when his fingers enclosed hers.

0-0-

Dewey was surprised to find Freddy sitting at his drum set. It was around one, one-thirty, and the younger boy should have been in school. Dewey frowned. They weren't even going to be having practice that day, as it was Friday, and a particular concert was being put on at the nearby symphony hall that night. Dewey hadn't exactly said he had a date, but he'd coyly mentioned that Miss Mullins was joining him, and from the faces of his fellow band mates, they'd been able to put two and two together.

Freddy had gone from mess to wreck to complete and total disaster over the past few days. He hadn't bothered with his hair as of late, and it had the just-got-out-of-bed look. His lips were kind of chapped, and his skin exceptionally pale. He looked sick, thin, and a little ragged. The sunglasses that usually adorned his face were no where in sight, which gave a shocking view of his long-time unseen eyes, sullen and sunken in. He was tapping one of the snare drums apathetically with his stick, staring at it as though it were transparent. He barely glanced up when Dewey entered the room, not even bothering to acknowledge the older man's presence.

"What's going on, Spazzy McGee?" Dewey asked cautiously, "Shouldn't you be somewhere? Like the void of education some call school?" The drummer said nothing, shrugging slightly, before putting his drumsticks down on the snare and lifting himself up, walking towards the kitchen. Dewey drew his brows together, immediately feeling the weight of concern. "So, what's up, Freddy?"

"Nothing."

"Only one more week until the big day," Dewey went on, coming to stand by the couch and waiting for some spark of usual cheer to awaken in his companion, "You ready to rock?"

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

"Dude, I know you want to cream this Kyle kid," Dewey prodded, certain that would get a rise.

"Un," Freddy mumbled. His voice was so dry, raspy. He hadn't been drinking his doctor recommended daily amount of water, that was for certain. Dewey ran a hand through his hair, taking a moment to exhale deeply.

"You gonna tell me what's up?" he said, taking a heavily serious tone. Freddy flinched slightly, opening Dewey's fridge and rummaging through it, before removing a cola.

"I suck," he muttered, "I'm a horrible person, and you were wrong."

"What are you talking about?" Dewey slowly questioned, worry edging his voice.

"I fucked up, alright. I don't even remember what I fucked up, but I'm sure I really fucked it up big time," Freddy stammered, "And I just don't want to talk about it!"

"Uh…alright, I guess we'll just…"

"Look…uh…can I ask you something?" Freddy cut in, and Dewey was taken aback.

"Yeah, sure. Shoot."

"Well…uh…I…I…uh…have this friend, yeah, this friend…and there's this girl whose…well…she's perfect," Freddy started, furrowing his brow, "But she thinks she's…well…not, and I - my friend - thinks that she's…well…he thinks she's…he really likes her. He thinks she's amazing and…I don't know," he paused, eyes fixated on the ground and wearing the look of one who'd just realized something. Quietly he mumbled, "He really…kind of…loves her. But he…he's really not good enough for her. And she doesn't think she's very good for him, she wants him to be with someone else."

"Oh," Dewey mouthed, scratching his chin, "Why does…your friend, think he's not good enough for this girl?"

"Well…really, he's not. He's kind of…he kind of thinks he's a tough guy," Freddy shrugged, "He acts up in school, he gets bad grades, and he…he's not the greatest of people. He drinks a lot, and hasn't really ever been with one girl at a time, before. He doesn't exactly have a history for treating girls right, either. He ditches school, and he kind of…acts like everything's a big joke. He's a real fuck up."

"Oh," Dewey nodded, "So he's kind of a jackass?"

"He's more of a spoiled brat," Freddy admitted, sheepishly running a hand over the back of his neck, "At first he thought he only wanted this girl, because she was dating some other guy, a guy he really hates. But now she's not, and he really realizes…it wasn't about the guy, it was about her. That he maybe even….well…liked her before she was dating that guy, and that when she started dating the guy…it kind of made him see how much he really felt for her…and…yeah."

"But she's not interested?"

"I - he thinks she is," Freddy shrugged, "But like I said, she told him there was this other girl he should be with. And, yeah, this other girl is nice, sweet, pretty, and would be a good girlfriend."

"But it's not the girl he wants," Dewey concluded.

"Yeah. I - he likes the other girl, he just doesn't feel the same way about her."

"Well, why does the first girl think he should be with this other girl?"

"I don't know," Freddy cried, throwing his hands up and shaking his head, turning away, "This girl, the girl I - my friend - wants to date…she's beautiful, and smart, and…she really cares, and she really understands him. But it's like she doesn't even realize how great a person she is. She makes m-er-him feel like he could be a good person too, like maybe he is a better person than he thinks, and that, if it's for her, he can be a good guy."

"But she thinks this other girl is all those things that this friend of yours thinks she is?"

"Yeah…I guess…I don't know."

"Huh. Your friend does not sound like he's in a very pretty situation."

"Tell me about it," Freddy muttered.

"I don't know what to tell you, dude," Dewey sighed, stretching somewhat and placing his hands on his hips, "Maybe he should try talking to this girl he likes, telling her how he feels."

"He's not very good at talking about that crap."

"Oh. Well…that sounds like the biggest problem there. If he really likes this girl, he's going to need to talk his feelings out with her, and all that shit. I know it sounds lame, but chicks dig when a guy tells her about his feelings and emotions and all that junk."

"There's kind of another problem, actually," Freddy murmured, clearing his throat, and peeking over to his portly friend, "He was kind of feeling like…really shitty one night, and he may have gotten drunk and called the girl up he likes and…well…said a lot of things. For a minute, I think he even considered going out with the other girl, no matter how much it would hurt her, being put in the middle of it all."

"He did what?" Dewey cried, "He called her up when he was drunk? What did he say?"

"I…uh…he…uh…kinda can't remember."

"Oh well, sounds like he's pretty screwed. Is the girl mad at him? That's a good way to figure out exactly how bad the things he said were."

"He doesn't know," Freddy admitted, scratching the back of his head, "He's kind of been avoiding her. I……he knows that what he said was really bad, horrible even. And he doesn't want to see her hurting because of him."

"I don't know what to tell you, Freddy," Dewey mumbled, "I guess you could…I don't know…tell your friend to apologize, explain himself, and try and tell her how he feels. I know it's really hard, but if the girl's everything you said she is, and this friend of yours really feels all those things you say he does, then I guess…you know…he can't risk losing her, can he?"

"Maybe he's already lost her," Freddy mumbled, before closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath, "I guess you're right. Thanks, Dewey."

"No problem." They fell silent, digesting each other's words. "Hey," Dewey spoke up, "Uh…since you're not in school and I don't have anything to do for a while, you want to go get something to eat? Dude, you're wasting away, and frankly, I think we need to put some grub in your gut." Freddy smirked slightly, placing a hand over his stomach.

"I really haven't had an appetite lately," he shrugged, "But I guess I could eat."

"Good," Dewey grinned, coming to put a hand on Freddy's shoulder and steer the younger boy towards the door while grabbing his coat, "Let's get some burgers."

The two companions ate in silence. Dewey quickly finished his burger and fries off, and drank three glasses of soda. Freddy picked at his burger, and ate a few fries, before pushing his plate off to Dewey, who didn't mind downing the extra food. It was around three when Dewey dropped the young man off at the Jones' Estate. And then, with Led Zeppelin pounding from his radio and not a thought in his mind, Dewey returned to his apartment. He was greeted by Ned, going over paperwork.

"What's going on, man?" Dewey said, and Ned nodded to him.

"Just going over the lease for this apartment," Ned answered casually, and Dewey perked at that.

"And?"

"It's up next month," Ned shrugged, trying to appear as though the subject were not very interesting. Dewey sensed otherwise.

"And?"

"Well," Ned sighed, before grimacing awkwardly up at his friend, "I was thinking maybe…you know…we don't renew it."

"What?" Dewey cried, "But, dude, this is where School of Rock lives! If we don't renew the apartment lease, where do we go? What happens to School of Rock? Are you trying to say something about the band? About the school? Do you think Battle of the Bands will be it…"

"That's not what I'm trying to say at all," Ned interjected, "In fact, I'm saying just the opposite. We're growing, Dewey. I've got a lot of kids enrolled for rock lessons. We've quadrupled since opening, the bands doing well, and money's good. I was thinking…maybe we should get a bigger place." Dewey's mouth dropped, and slowly his lips turned up into an impish grin. He shook his finger at Ned, and with each vibration, his smile widened.

"You…you really freaked me out there, man," Dewey exclaimed, before hopping over and slapping his arms around Ned, then bounding off and leaving a very shaken up man behind, "Dude, this is awesome! This is a great idea! A bigger apartment will be so kick ass!"

"Well, actually, Dewey," Ned spoke up, having broken from his shock of the exuberant reaction, "I'm thinking, what with the money we have saved and our steady in-flow of cash, we might look into getting a house."

"A house?" Dewey cried, "Man, I've never lived in a house! Are you serious? Imagine all the new instruments and equipment we could fit in! And we could have longer practices, not having to worry about cranky neighbors and breaking any building codes and shit…man, this is so awesome! When do we move?"

"We could start looking now, actually. I picked up some real estate magazines and…"

"No, wait," Dewey frowned, shaking his head, "No can do."

"What? Why not?"

"I'm going somewhere, and I really got to get ready."

"Where are you going?" Ned questioned, scrunching his nose and looking a bit hurt.

"I…uh…have a hot date," Dewey smirked, heading up towards the bathroom with the intention of showering. Ned's eyebrows jumped up, and he quirked his head.

"With who?" he questioned coyly.

"Uh…"

"Anyone I know."

"Well…"

"A Miss Rosalyn Mullins, maybe?"

"What?" Dewey spun around, "How'd you know?" A sedate smile glazed over Ned's face.

"Call it a wild guess," he chuckled, "You crazy kids try not to get into any trouble, alright?"

"Whatever, dude," Dewey laughed, shaking his head, and entering the bathroom. He started the shower up and Ned lifted a magazine, flipping through it and casually scanning the tiny pictured houses.

"So where were you all afternoon, anyways?" he called.

"Huh? Oh, I went out with Freddy. We chatted a little, and I fed him. Poor kid, something's really bugging him," Dewey shouted reply, muffled by the bathroom door.

"He didn't tell you about it, though?"

"Nah. All he did was talk to me about some friend of his having girl troubles. What a great guy, huh? Something's seriously tearing him apart inside, and he's still got the heart to worry about his friends," Dewey yelled. Ned scrunched his nose, then nodded.

"Yeah. Freddy's a good kid."

0-0-

Miss Mullins took a moment to straighten her hair once more, after a final glance into the mirror, before hastily walking to the door and casually swinging it open. She had dressed in tight-fitting blue jeans and a loose t-shirt, trying not to overdress for the occasion. She wanted to give off a slack appearance, and still manage to look like herself. Not to mention, she wanted to look hot. She couldn't help but smile upon seeing Dewey standing before her holding up a flower he probably picked from a neighbor's garden. She took the pretty weed, and thanked him, inviting him in. He'd combed his hair, and was wearing clean corduroy slacks. He gave the impression of a decent guy, and if she didn't know better, Miss Mullins would even go so far as to say a gainfully employed, straight laced, law-abiding, god-fearing man.

"My lady," he greeted, donning a mock French accent, and in a fanciful curtsy, took Miss Mullins hand and brushed a kiss to the top. She blushed, and shook her head in embarrassment. He straightened and looked around the small apartment. It wasn't his first time over, but he seemed to be taking a moment to examine things, as though he'd never seen them before.

"I hope the seats are good," Miss Mullins spoke up, clearing her throat slightly to gain his attention, which he willingly gave, "Did you want to get something to eat after the concert?"

"That'd be awesome," Dewey nodded. He helped her slip her coat on, then extended his arm, which she took. Opening the door, they strode out and clambered into his run-down old van. He paused, having pushed the keys in the ignition, to really take in Miss Mullins's appearance, "You look really nice, tonight."

"Oh," Miss Mullins flustered, "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, you always look nice. But this laid back look, I really like it. It works on you," he continued, and she blushed, "And you know, you got a really nice body. It's hard to tell, sometimes, with the dress suits." Her eyes widened at the, seemingly, lewd comment, then a smile creased her features. Dewey revved the engine, as though he hadn't even said anything, and pulled from the small street onto the highway. He motioned to the radio, a few minutes into the ride, "Put something on. My CDs are in the dashboard, or you can choose whatever radio station you want."

"Oh, yeah," Miss Mullins mumbled, reaching forward to pop the glove compartment open and rifle through the CD case set inside. She found one that seemed to catch her eye and slipped it into the player. Rhythmic beats pounded out and Dewey smiled at her.

"Poison. Solid choice," he commented, leaning back, and watching her get comfortable.

"God, remember when this album first came out?" she whispered, slightly moving her head to the music, "They were really rockin'. I must have listened to 'Every Rose Has Its Thorn' a bazillion times."

"Yeah, good song."

"I love it," Miss Mullins shook her head, "I knew every word, and," she turned a deep pink, "I would sing it all the time. My roommates would get so mad at me, shouting it at the top of my lungs in the shower. But it was…well, one of my favorites."

"You sing in the shower?" Dewey exclaimed, glancing at her with a bit of shock. She turned pinker, if it were possible, and nodded sheepishly, "Man, I wouldn't mind seeing that," then, shaking his head, and wincing at how perverted that sound, "I mean…hearing you sing. I'd like to hear you sing Poison or something, sometime."

"Oh well," Miss Mullins flushed, "I'm really not that good."

"You know what," Dewey announced, an idea suddenly popping in his mind, "We should go to a karaoke bar sometime."

"What? Oh, I've never…done that…I don't know if I could…"

"That settles it then," Dewey cried, "I'm taking you karaoking. It'll be fun. I know if I put a few drinks in you and turn Stevie Nicks on, I can get you to really belt it." Miss Mullins eyes went wide in embarrassment, and she shook her head, "Come on, it'll be fun. I'll get on stage with you."

"Well…"

"Come on, Ros," Dewey pressed, arching an eyebrow, "Ros. Please, it'll be cool!"

"I…"

"Come on…"

"Okay, okay," Miss Mullins gave in, shaking her head, beat red, "You are so persistent." Dewey grinned, giving a zealous shout of triumph.

"You will not regret it," he told her, "It'll be such a blast. Maybe we could get the kids to come, Ned even…" Miss Mullins nodded, feeling a little less sick at the idea knowing it would be more of a party. She couldn't imagine just singing with Dewey there, she didn't have that kind of bravery.

They pulled off the road to the symphony hall, and Dewey crossed over to swing the door open and help Miss Mullins out. Together they walked up towards the hall, a crowd of shouting people already surrounding the building. Dewey took hold of Miss Mullins's hand so as not to lose her in the bustle of people, and she intertwined their fingers, skipping up the sidewalk with him as they breezed to the entrance and flashed their tickets. The usher showed them in, and Dewey led her to their seats.

They'd just barely made it as the opening bands took the stage for brief jam sessions. And then the lights dimmed, and Stevie Nicks took the floor. Dewey watched the light shine in Miss Mullins's eyes as she stood, jumping up and down, dancing to the beat. Her hair fell wildly about her face, which gleamed with happiness, and she moved gracefully to the songs. By the second set, she was damp with sweat, and fell back to her seat, worn and weary. And then Beauty and the Beast started up, and she straightened, her eyes glazed over as she stared down at the blonde form of her favorite singer. Her mouth moved to the lyrics, and Dewey moved forward. He touched her cheek, softly, and she flickered her eyes to meet his, almost as though she'd just seen him for the first time. And then his fingers slipped behind her neck and he drew her forward into a kiss, brushing her hair with his hand, and tucking it behind her ear. He was surprised when she didn't push him away, even more surprised when she moved forward to deepen the delicately intimate touch. When they finally pulled apart, Dewey trailed his fingers along her jaw line, and met her eyes.

"You're really kind of cool, you know that," he whispered, a bit breathlessly. She smiled, before leaning forward and initiating another kiss.

END A/N: WOw, this one had a lot of mush. Blech. I really didn't like this chapter.

Well...this sucks. This is the last of my chapters that I have all written up. Which means the possibility the next chapter is up on time is very slim. Ihave to do some serious writing. Don't fret though, guys, I have the last chapters planned to a "T".

Was there anything else I needed to say? OH! I forgot to thank dgmbf4ev for the review on the chapter before last. I think that's it.

Please excuse any grammatical and typing errors, and REVIEW!

Thanks for Reading, and I am OUT!