Okay Phil Fans, here's chapter 3. It's short, too, but I like where it ends. Chapter 4 will appear some time tomorrow. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 3

"—Stay tuned Monday for my special undercover report on the boys' locker room shower fungus. Until then, I'm Keely Teslow. Have a great weekend, H. G. Wells!"

"That's a wrap!" Phil said, and Keely unclipped the microphone from her sweater.

"Phil! I meant to announce your sweet sixteenth Nirday!" Keely said, frowning.

"It's okay, Keel. Really, I'd rather spend it quietly, you know, below the radar," Phil said, winding up the camera cord. "We've got some plans, though, right? What did we decide to do again for this momentous occasion?"

"Phil, it's your Nirday, so you decided we'd fly to Italy on the Skyak and get a pizza!" she chirped excitedly, eyes flashing at the thought of flying over the Italian countryside with Phil.

"I don't know," said Phil. "I was thinking of something closer to home, more twenty-first century. As long as I'm here I should celebrate my Nirday—I mean, birthday—as normally as possible, don't you think?" Phil asked and winked at his best friend.

"Like what? Cake and ice cream?" asked Keely. She looked slightly disappointed.

"Yes! How original, Miss Teslow. I'd adore some old-fashioned cake and ice cream," Phil said. "And maybe that tummy rub you promised before?"

Keely blushed. "Phil, I—" she stammered.

"I'm only kidding, Keels," Phil assured her. "Why don't you come over to my house around 6:30? We can eat dinner, then we can do the birthday thing and sing that awful song you have this century and pin the tail on the horse."

"You mean donkey, Phil," Keely said, laughing.

"Right, donkey. Then the cake, the ice cream, and an exciting round of hanging out at the Diffy house. Maybe a little Skyaking around Pickford if the mood strikes us. What do you say?" Phil asked Keely.

"Of course, Phil. I wouldn't miss it," Keely said. "But now I gotta book to biology. See you after, 'kay?"

"Okay," Phil said, grinning. "Good luck on your quiz."

"Thanks. You want me to tell Owen and Via?" asked Keely.

"Well, I was hoping…." Phil said, looking at his shoes. Come on, Diffy. Tell her. Tell her "just us." "I was sort of hoping it would be just us…." He glanced back up at Keely. He couldn't read her expression. Was she confused? Angry? What was it? Her faced looked almost like she had bitten into something sour. This can't be good, he thought, and closed his eyes, waiting for her response.

Just us? He wants it to bejust us? Really? Oh my god! "Just us?" Keely squeaked. Then she looked at her shoes.

Phil panicked. Oh no, I scared her. It's too sudden. It's too weird. Of course, not just us, Diffy. Stupid, stupid Diffy. "And Barb and Lloyd and Pim?" Phil quickly added.

Keely looked up. Why does "just us" scare me? I want it to be just us! What is your problem Teslow? Phil was smiling at her, but nervously. She thought she saw something in his face she recognized. Vulnerability. Was he as scared of this as she was?Was he worried he had said the wrong thing about Just Us? But you haven't, Phil. It is what I want, but I don't know how to show you. She took a deep breath. She hd to do something.

"Hey, Phil?" Keely asked him, whispering.

"Hey, Keel," Phil whispered back.

"Just us would be nice," Keely said, still whispering, butterflies the size of paper airplanes fluttering like mad inside her chest.

Phil smiled at her and exhaled loudly. Keely had the sudden urge to blow a kiss to her best friend at that moment, but as soon as she did it, the bell rang and he turned and ran out the door, late for class the second time that day. The kiss landed on his ear. Well, I guess it's better than nothing, she thought as she followed him into the hallway. Then a voice shouted behind Keely.

"Miss Teslow!" She turned and saw Vice Principal Hackett standing there.

"Yes, Vice Principal Hackett?" she answered.

"Miss Teslow, I was very impressed with today's report on the vanishing pickles in the cafeteria. Thanks to you, the lunch lady responsible will never steal pickles in the Pickford City School District again!" said Hackett.

"Well, thanks," said Keely. "The story was all Phil Diffy's idea, though. I don't know where I'd be without him." She said this dreamily, a bit lost in her thoughts.

"Well, Miss Teslow, Diffy might have brains, but the kid's got no charisma. You, on the other hand, would make a prime addition to the H.G. Wells Reporterama team," said Hackett.

"Are you serious?" shouted Keely. She jumped up and down. "Golly! Me? Little old me? On the Reporterama team? I'd love to join!"

"Well, then, our first meeting is tonight. I'll introduce you to the team and you'll be fitted for your uniform. Be in the Broadcast Lab at 6:30 sharp," Hackett said.

"Six thirty?" asked Keely. "But Mr. Hackett, I can't meet tonight. It's a friend's—it's Phil's birthday. I promised him I'd be there."

"Well, Miss Teslow, there comes a time in every young reporter's life when he or she has to choose between what is important for her potential career and what isn't. If you can't be there at 6:30 tonight, then I'm afraid we don't have space for you on the team. I expect 100 from all Reporterama team members." Then he strolled off toward his office, leaving Keely standing in the empty hall alone.