HOLY MOTHER OF CHOCOLATE! WE BROKE 100 REVIEWS! I'd like to thank the academy- just kidding! YOU PEOPLE ROCK OUT! SERIOUSLY! THE BEST! I must now buy a box of pop-tarts for each of you. No... FIVE boxes, BWA HAHAHA! AND A PINK BUNNY WITH ALL THE ANSWERS TO YOUR MATH TESTS ON HIM! (is dancing) La cucaracha! La cucaracha! La de da de da de da de daaaa! Well, now that we've established this...

Okay, so that was a somewhat depressing last chapter by comparison to others. Maybe I better up the sugar intake (cause that's healthy).

(singing) The hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiills are aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive with the sound of muuuuuuusiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiic

"Pprpth!"

"Ow!"

"Sorry!"

"Just keep practicing," Violet said to Dash. Apparently the elementary school had started a new program where all sixth graders had to learn to play an instrument. And Dash, being a sixth grader instead of fifth, was included in this. Much to Violet's horror.

"Why couldn't you have chosen a quieter instrument?"

"I like the trumpet."

"Yeah, well you're breaking my ears off!" Violet exclaimed, covering her ears again as her younger brother blew into the trumpet.

"All the better. Yeow, that was close!"

Vi had thrown her history book at him and he'd only just darted out of the way.

"C'mon, I'm not that bad!"

"Yes you are!"

"I'm not even trying yet."

"Well then spare us, please!"

"Dash, Vi!" Helen scolded up the stairs. "Be nice."

They waited until her footsteps were out of earshot.

"So how are things with Tony?" Dash asked teasingly.

"Shut it or I'll throw my math book instead next time."

Dash stuck out his tongue.

"Play your stupid trumpet."

Dash hesitated a moment, then raised the brass to his mouth and played a short version of 'Mary had a little lamb.'

"Well, it beats 'ppbth!'"

"Shut up."

"You shut it."

"You!"

"You!"

"Kids," Bob yelled. "Play nice."

"Yeah whatever," Vi said to no one in particular, returning to her math work. As Dash raised his instrument to his lips, Vi put a field around her brother.

"Hey!" Vi heard Dash say from inside the forcefield.

"What?"

"Lemme out!"

"I'm protecting my eardrums!"

"No forcefields!"

"You're really not in a position to argue," Vi said, turning the page of her textbook.

"Let me out!"

"I don't hear you practicing, Dash!" Bob shouted.

"That's not my fault!" Dash shouted, although he was voice was slightly muffled and muted by the field around him.

"Think of it this way," Vi said, smiling, "now you don't gotta worry about having textbooks thrown at you."

"Ha ha," Dash grumbled. He started to play again, and this time not only was it tolerable but reasonably pleasant considering. Violet eventually put down the field (although part of the reason for that was so she could duck out of the way of some Jack-Jack laser vision!).

Things had been a bit hostile that week in the Parr house (it was now Thursday). Let's say the products of the marital disagreement had not simmered down much. Helen had, however, called up Jacob at West Living to tell him not to call her for a modeling gig, she wasn't coming. Bob didn't know this, of course, just like Helen didn't know that he'd already gone to about five job interviews in the last few days. Dash and Vi had had a hard time during school as well, what with the stupid press everywhere. Violet was still recovering from her close call that afternoon. The hiccups and the ability to turn invisible were not made to mix.

Presently, Helen was folding laundry and, as usual, Bob was semi-hidden behind the Metroville Tribune. They'd barely spoke to one another since their fight. Finally Bob made a brave move.

"Here," he said quietly. "Let me help."

Helen didn't say anything, just made room for Bob by the laundry basket. Every garment she folded she then placed in the proper room with her stretchy arms.

"Uh, Helen?"

"Bob."

"Hey listen. About our… argument, I… I didn't mean what I said, you know, about being too good for superhero work."

"I know," Helen said, although there was a visible relaxation in her.

"I… I shouldn't have been upset," Bob continued, focusing intently on the t-shirt he was folding for the tenth time. "I mean, I shouldn't have gotten fired and then, well you know, gotten angry… about you getting a job."

Helen sighed, stopped folding clothes and putting them away. "No, you were right."

Dash continued playing on his trumpet.

"I shouldn't have just taken over; I should have had more faith."

"Oh, just get it over with already!" Violet shouted over Dash's trumpet. Helen and Bob smiled.

"Sorry."

"Me too."

"You really think the supers don't have a chance?"

"There's always a chance."

There was a loud, female, teenager's groan heard from upstairs while the trumpet carried on.

"That girl…" Helen said, sort of glaring at the ceiling.

"Wanna dance?" Bob asked.

"What?"

"We have music!"

"An eleven year old playing the trumpet for the first time."

"Third."

Helen just rolled her eyes and conceded to Bob's request.

"That didn't hurt so bad, did it?"

"It will if you step on my toes."

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad."

Violet just rolled her eyes and put a forcefield around herself so she could ignore the utter sappiness of the adults of the house. After a while, Dash finally stopped and the parents were forced to return to the laundry folding (in a much better mood than before). Vi stood up and looked over Dash's shoulder at his music book.

"Is that what's written there?" she asked, referring to Dash's little solo.

"I dunno."

"What?"

"I can't read the music."

Vi rolled her eyes, knowing if her family got much more intolerable, she might as well just keep her eyes in that position.

Je suis un crayon. J'adore le crayon. Tu te parler? Maybe I should leave french to the French.

(Okay, not my best writing. School sucks. I wonder why they call lollipops "suckers"...)