A/N to 707: No one is more surprised by Danger Girl's quick delivery than I am. But after the pure test of will and sanity that was THLS, DG has been much easier to deal with in many ways. I don't want to get too spoilery with Danger Girl because I've got some surprises in store—some unexpected, others readers might see building before the characters realize them. There are some turning points coming up for the series, though, for sure. It's always interesting to hear others' perspectives on Mrs. Walters. Some see her as a domineering demon, while others find her well-meaning when you look deep down. Read on to uncover more. As to Fern's height, she's around four feet and ten inches, which makes her below average for her age, but only slightly taller than average for an eleven-year-old girl. She's the shortest girl in her class, petite with childlike, innocent features, and she played to that in case she got in trouble in the morgue, hoping anyone admonishing her would be sympathetic for the wittle girl once the waterworks started. It was a risk, but it worked for her. Hope this helps you sleep, but don't hesitate if you have questions. Thanks for all the compliments and for sticking with the series. It's going to be a bumpy ride

Chapter 2

The Noob's Guide

"Muffy, wait up!"

It was Thursday afternoon, and Francine was calling after her. Final bell had rung minutes ago, and Muffy was nearly at the limo's door. She looked up from her Infinity and turned to see her best friend jogging toward her, her expression pinched with discomfort. She need not run. Muffy was waiting on Alan so they could ride to the Crosswire estate together for their Thursday tutoring session. From previous experience with the look on Francine's face, Muffy knew what was coming, and she quickly ducked inside the cabin and grabbed a bottle of Evian from the mini fridge—Francine hated Perrier—and ducked out.

"Midol?" Muffy said sympathetically as she held the water out to Francine in time with her approach.

Francine grabbed the Evian, and Muffy sifted through her handbag in search of her toiletries kit.

"Yes, or else I don't know how the hell I'm going to make it through rehearsal."

"That bad, huh?"

Francine twisted the bottle cap off and said thoughtfully, "You know that movie with the Chestburster alien? It's kind of like that, only this little guy is trying to chew its way out of my uterus."

"Casual," Muffy said after a brief pause at the description. She handed over the pain reliever she had taken from a cream-white Saint Laurent pouch.

She watched as Francine desperately fumbled to open the medicine and downed a dose with several gulps of water. Distraction got the better of her, and she was already reaching into her bag to recover her Infinity. She had exercised great restraint throughout the school day, but now she needed to know.

Duh, she told herself. If you can't look at your phone during school, neither can anyone else.

Besides, if someone wanted to ask her, why had they not simply approached her in person during lunch or in the halls?

That would make more sense. But still…

Muffy could not help herself. She opened Facebook first, answering the Study Buddy question that blocked the prog with stunning ease. Tutoring really was paying off. Francine carried on complaining, but she was fading off into the distance as Muffy concentrated.

"Being a girl sucks a big one. Why do we have to put up with stuff like this?"

"I don't know," Muffy offered halfheartedly as she scanned her notifications, disappointed with what she saw, "something about a snake and an apple…"

"What's up?" Francine said, snapping her fingers in front of Muffy's face. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine."

"Is it Chip?"

"No."

"Your dad?"

"No, Francine."

"Then what?"

"You'll just think it's stupid."

"Oh, it's about the Autumn Ball," said Francine with a nod.

"Well…" Muffy said, dropping her voice and trying her best not to whine as students filed past them down the sidewalk, "its nine days from now and…not a single boy has asked me to go with him. I would have figured at least four would have by now, but zero? Why? What's wrong with me?"

"Do you have an hour for me to explain?"

"I'm serious, Francine. Buster has a freaking girlfriend, and I can't get a date for a couple of hours? Something legit has to be wrong."

"Why do they have to come to you? If it's so important to you, be a little progressive and ask one of them out."

"And look desperate?"

Not to mention it opens me up to possibly getting turned down. No. Just no.

"You sound pretty desperate to me…" Francine said, suppressing a grin.

Francine was clearly enjoying herself. She had no idea how stressful this was. She would not, of course. She had done nothing but dismiss the Autumn Ball since hearing of its existence. Despite this, she was still lucky. If by some miracle she were interested in going, she had an automatic date in Arthur, just waiting in the wings for her, even if Francine refused to accept it.

"Why don't you ask Alan this afternoon?" Francine continued. "He'd be an easy mark, and he'll be at your house, so he can't run away."

Muffy was not sure how much of Francine's comment had been a joke and how much had been sincere. She was nevertheless appalled by it.

"I can't do that!"

She had nearly added "to him" to the end of her protest, but she stopped herself short. Her attitude caught Francine's attention, and she gave Muffy a quizzical look.

"Why? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," Muffy said quickly, defensively. "Nothing's wrong with Alan. It's just…"

He's trying to heal from the death of his girlfriend on top of dealing with his other issues, and asking him to go to a place where couples will be dancing and having fun just to make me feel better about myself would make me the worst person ever. That's all.

"…he's my tutor, and I can't risk things getting awkward. I'm so close to winning my wager with Daddy. I can taste my permanent freedom."

Francine thought for a moment.

"Jeez. I guess when you put it that way… Hang in there. There's still time for someone to ask you. In the meantime, you go crush that wager. Thanks for the meds!"

Francine took off, presumably heading to musical rehearsal, and Muffy turned her attention back to her Infinity. She should get in the limo and out of the chill, but just as soon as she checked her texts. She had no notifications, but it would not hurt to check, in case one slipped by.

"Uh-oh, is Study Buddy acting up again? I thought I worked out all the kinks."

Muffy looked up to see a concerned Alan staring back at her as he slipped the straps of his overstuffed schoolbag off his shoulders.

"Hi," she said, putting the Infinity's screen to sleep and slipping it into her coat pocket. "No, Study Buddy is fine. I was just checking some things. The Autumn Ball is in nine days and—"

"I know," Alan said in a tone that was equal parts soft and defensive, "and before you say anything, I don't know if I'll feel like going, and—not that I don't value your concern—I'd appreciate it if you please didn't try to persuade me to go 'for my own good'."

It was all Muffy could do not to cringe at her past behavior.

"Ohmigosh, Alan, I wouldn't dream of it… I know you're doing your best, trying to ease back into life again and stuff. The Autumn Ball is a huge social event for MCM, and it's more than reasonable that you might want to sit something like that out. Deciding if showing up would be good for you isn't my call to make. Totally. Besides, sometimes, you're just not going to feel like doing something, and that has to be okay."

Alan gaped at her for a split second before making the effort to close his mouth.

"Um, yeah," he said. "Exactly the points I was going to stress. Thanks for…thanks for understanding. But why did you bring it up?"

"Oh, no reason. I was just commenting that it's coming up pretty fast. Quickly. Coming up pretty quickly. I guess I've been so busy I've just lost track of time."

There was no way she was going to complain about this to him. Compared to his problems, this was trivial.

How would he even respond? Gee, that's too bad, Muffy. You can't get a date? My girlfriend is dead and it has crippled me even further emotionally, but sorry about your luck. She would need to be more mindful of what she said around him. She only wished she had realized that weeks ago.

She wanted to ask Alan how he was feeling, if his medicine was working, but she needed to be mindful about bringing his condition up too often. The last thing she wanted Alan to think was that she was only interested in his illness or progression, plus, mentioning it too much could affect him negatively in general. She had learned so much over the past few days, but figuring out the right way to handle Alan was still a fine line to walk. He looked to her for friendship and safety, a fact that still astounded her. And she did not want to screw things up.

"Yeah," said Alan. "Time is fascinating. Are you ready? I've got a new side project for you; one I think you'll find helpful."

Muffy smiled, resisting the urge to reach for her phone again.

"Let's get to it."

They had only been in the Crosswire library long enough to set up for the afternoon before Muffy had given in once again.

"Before we start," she said to Alan, who was going over some notes he had jotted down during Monday's session, "I really need to visit the bathroom."

"No problem," Alan said, not looking up. "You'll want to concentrate on the tasks at hand instead of other things. Go ahead."

How right he was. Muffy dashed to a washroom down the hallway and took out her Infinity, which she had deftly smuggled from her coat to the pocket of her cardigan. Alan still did not approve of phones during sessions, so there would be no way to stay on top of things for the next couple of hours. She had resisted the urge to look on the ride home, too. It had been a short trip, but it only took a second to press SEND on a message, if a boy wanted to send her one. The suspense was killing her. No phone calls, no texts. Nerves caused her to miss the first Study Buddy question, and she pulled it together long enough to answer the second one correctly and get through to Facebook. Nothing. She continued, answering Study Buddy questions and searching her social media, hoping that one boy, just one, had finally reached out to her, only to have her hopes dashed.

"I do hope you enjoy the chai, Master Powers," said Bailey as he placed the cozy-covered teapot down in the middle of the library's long table. "It is an autumn favorite of Miss Muffy's. I shall be happy, of course, to bring you a different beverage should you not find it suitable."

"I like chai a lot, actually," said Alan, placing his notebook down. "Thanks, Bailey. Um, could I get some honey and half-and-half, please?"

"Certainly," said Bailey, and the butler was out of the room in no time, on his way to fetch Alan's request.

Alan checked his watch. Was it just him, or had Muffy spent an inordinate amount of time out of the library? He had not taken notice of the time when she had left. Deciding that what she was doing was none of his business, he instead chose to examine the snacks on the table, the teapot sitting next to a small selection of finger sandwiches and a couple of tiny coconut custard tarts on a tiered silver tray. Next to that sat china cups and saucers, and honest-to-goodness linen napkins. Muffy went all out for even the simplest activities. His popcorn and mango drink seemed exceedingly pedestrian in comparison.

Alan smiled as he took everything in. As he did so, something in the distance caught his eye. The bright orange corner of a book was sticking out just beyond the open top of Muffy's schoolbag. That was interesting. He knew of no such text from MCM with that color. Even though he shared not a single class with Muffy, he was familiar with her syllabus and textbooks, and he wondered what this new, day-glo addition could possibly be. Intrigued, he rose from his seat and inched over to where Muffy's schoolbag sat atop the table. Sliding the tip of his index finger underneath the stiff nylon, he lifted the bag's opening wider so he could read the title.

Anxiety: The Complete Noob's Guide to Helping a Loved One Cope

Alan jerked his hand away as if the bag had burned him. He did not know what kind of book he had expected to find, but it had not been that one. He backed away and sat back down in his chair. This explained Muffy's rhetoric before leaving MCM today. She likely had been parroting something she had read within the book's covers.

As he sat there, his initial thought was, Am I really that bad?

Was he so out of hand that Muffy needed a manual to navigate him?

Then another thought occurred to him, and it felt the opposite of how his vicious inner monologue affected his mindset, which was a new and curious feeling indeed. He thought, Or maybe she cares about you.

Muffy had expressed her frustration with her inexperience when it came to Alan's condition. Maybe she had sought out a way to remedy that. Alan recalled the days when getting Muffy to open up a book and study was like pulling teeth. Now here she was, doing independent study. Of her own free will. And she was doing it to help him. Without announcing it to him, without complaint, she was doing it for him. And there was something about the notion he found unexpectedly overwhelming, and he fought the urge to tear up.

Muffy returned, and Bailey brought in the honey and half and half, each housed in small silver pots that matched the sandwich tray. Alan pushed past his flustered feelings and commenced the session, stealing tiny moments to stare at his friend whenever Muffy was not looking, trying to temper the warm waves of gratitude and adoration he was feeling for her in the moment.

George was underneath the Wells Fargo Wagon during rehearsal break, trying to bolt reinforcements for the wagon's tongue into place. He was flat on his back and looking up, thinking about how the last thing they needed during a live performance was for the tongue to snap off as the wagon was only halfway across the stage. He only took notice of Fern's presence when she spoke up.

"George?" Fern said, in a hurried voice.

"Hey, Fern." George's voice bounced hollowly off the wood above him. "What's up?"

He could only see her from the knees down, but she shifted from one foot to the other, as if she might be nervous about something.

"I'm so sorry to have to ask," she said, "but I need a huge, huge favor."

"Sure thing," he said, happy to help.

"If you don't mind, I need you to come to the Autumn Ball with me—oh!"

That was the last thing George heard before seeing stars. He had sat up with lightning speed, forgetting momentarily that he was under a huge and solid structure, and cracked his face on the wagon's reach.

"George!" cried Fern. "Oh my gosh! Are you all right?"

"Ah! Ack! Owww…"

George hissed and groaned as he wriggled his way out from underneath the wagon. His nose burned, his eyes watered, and he could feel the tiny streams of blood as they began trickling from each nostril.

"I'm fine," he said nasally, clamping a hand over his nose.

Fern knelt beside him.

"I don't think so," she said a bit shakily. "Your nose is bleeding."

"Yeah. That's not unusual. Happens all the time."

He shifted his weight and withdrew a red hankie from his back pocket with his free hand. He held it to his nose as Fern helped him stand. She ushered him over to one of the upturned wooden crates upon which he liked to sit.

"I should get Coach Sorrell. She'll get you an ice pack…" she said as she turned to leave.

"No! Don't. I'm going to be fine. What were you saying? About the Autumn Ball? Did I hear you right?"

Fern looked uncertain, but she explained quickly as she knelt beside him again.

"My mom is forcing me to go. Apparently, it's the thing to do if one is an eighth-grader, and she'll believe nothing else. So, I must go. I'm trying to find a date before she makes that decision for me too. I'd rather go with a friend. I don't know what your plans are, and I certainly don't want to ruin your evening, but if it's not too much trouble, would you—"

"Yes!" he blurted out, muffled by the hankie. "Yes. The answer is 'yes'. I'd be happy to, uh, help you out."

"You sure it won't ruin your plans?"

"Nothing is ruined. Nothing is ruined at all. That's what friends are for, right? Besides, I love to dance."

"Uh, right. Okay. As long as you're sure."

"Yep. It's all good," he said heartily.

"Well," said Fern, "fine. It's good to have that out of the way. One less thing to worry about, at any rate."

"Yeah. Good. Fern?"

"What?"

"Do you mind getting an ice pack for me after all? I might have hit my nose harder than I thought."

"Oh, sure! Definitely. Sit tight, and I'll be right back."

Fern rose and left him. After she rounded the corner, George stood calmly, mustered all the energy he had left, and he jumped, clicking his heels together in pure, uninhibited joy. He would have pumped his fist, too, but his first action caused a surge of sharp pain in his nostrils.

"Ow!" he mumbled to himself as he sat back down, groaning and hissing once more.

To George, it was worth the pain. Not only had his wish finally come true, it had not fallen on him to initiate things. Fern had come to him, and that was a wonderful feeling that dwarfed any pain currently affecting him. He just hoped the bruising would clear up in time for the Autumn Ball.

To be continued…