Branwyn and Kara were sitting at the sidelines of volleyball practice.

"Thank you for coming," Kara said. "Everyone is so supportive in so many different ways. I only hope I can repay it. I mean, I hope I don't have to, that is, that nothing happens to you to need it."

Branwyn patted Kara on the arm. "I know you would be," she said.

"How's the column coming along?" Kara asked. Branwyn wrote the "Dear Abby" type of column for the Mercy High School Newspaper.

"Pretty well," Branwyn said. "I get enough letters to not even answer them all. I think I need to write one myself, though."

"Write a letter to yourself and see if that helps you – by trying to answer it, you can get your own thoughts straight," Kara said.

"That might work," Branwyn said.

"Do you have a prom date?" Kara asked.

"No," Branwyn said. "But I know you do."

"I know Jeremy will ask you," Kara said.

"In the dictionary, under the word 'problem,'" Branwyn said, "there is a picture of Jeremy and under that, a picture of Taryn."

Kara laughed. "I think they can't be together, because the world might fall apart."

"They could cancel each other out, maybe."

"Taryn hasn't been near Jeremy recently, has she? She has other fish to fry."

"True, and other problems to cause. It's not that she's around. It's her legacy. It lasts and lasts."

Kara laughed again. "I'm sorry, Bran, I'm not laughing at your problems. Just at the way you put them. You should be a comedienne, you know? You have this way of talking about things."

"Being the youngest of nine, you have to get your sense of humor in gear."

"Oh, come now! You're spoiled. If Jeremy looks at you the wrong way, boom! Five big brothers are on him."

"Yes. I should mention them more often, to Jeremy."

"And let Clay deal with Taryn's legacy! Really, I hope he breaks up with her soon! It scares me that she's not 18 yet."

"It should," Branwyn said.

But it was Toby who was the one dealing the Taryn's legacy now. His band had gone to the London Underground after rehearsing in the barn. Checking out the competition was always interesting. Tonight there was this laid-back older guy singing; Ned Ashton.

They saw Skye Quartermaine as she came in. She was rushing as usual. She went to the bar and started giving Clay Delaney some instructions. She was talking to Clay when suddenly she stopped, listened and turned around to look at the band. Her jaw dropped. "What the hell?" she said, to no one in particular. "It's my stupid cousin! How did he get a gig here?"

"I don't know, Skye," Clay said. "Must have been the manager wanting to give him a try. You mean it wasn't nepotism?"

"Damn right, it wasn't!" Skye marched over to the manager's office.

Toby went up to the bar.

"Thank you for driving Taryn home," he said.

"What?" Clay knew though, that Toby didn't know that he, Clay, was dating Taryn, too.

"I mean," Toby said. "You really helped her out. She would have for sure been on the hook for drunk driving. But the way it is, it looks uncertain," Toby added.

"Uh, yeah," Clay said. "I could see she was drunk, so I just offered her a ride home in her own car. Her mother's car isn't the greatest."

"That thing is on its last legs," Toby said. "Too bad Taryn saved it."