To ColdSlaw: Regarding Fern's crush, I kicked around other possible reactions for Doria to have, but "Really?" was the only one that made sense. Plus, I already promised a reader that we'd get Fern's explanation of what attracts her to Buster, so I got two birds with one stone.

To Bophenbeaan: I'm glad you and others seem to be picking up what I'm putting down concerning Doria. She's by no means a perfect parent, but she has a deep, unconditional love for her daughter. With any luck, an event like this will have a positive impact on her relationship with Fern. And yes, Muffy does have some sharp intuition, but she just might miss the mark every now and then, as you may or may not see in the future. As for Francine and George, I'm saying nothin'!

To H: Glad I could take you down memory lane. You're very kind, and I'm thrilled you're enjoying your read. Welcome aboard!

Chapter 39

Under Pressure

"A creperie?"

Muffy closed her locker and turned to stare at Alan. There was no way she had heard him correctly. She was still getting over the fact that he had actually taken her up on her offer to celebrate his learner's permit, so maybe she had been too dazed to understand him. Muffy had already accepted that the offer she had made at the Autumn Ball would be left hanging in the air, languishing until both she and Alan had forgotten about it. But here it was, lunchtime on Monday, and Alan had just requested a visit to Douceur de Marie, a semi-new establishment in Ingram.

"You're sure that's how you want to celebrate?"

"Yes," Alan said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He fell into step beside her on their way to the school cafeteria. Other students were rushing around them, but she took her time. There was something she needed to ask Alan as well. But this was an intriguing turn of events, and she let him explain. "Nothing else came to mind. I've never been to a creperie before, so, why not?"

Muffy giggled. "There's no expiration date on that offer, you know. Take all the time you need if you'd like to think of something better to do."

"No," Alan said, and Muffy was quick to pick up on the slightest hint of urgency in his voice, "I really want to go. I think trying something new can be salubrious, don't you?"

"That depends. Does 'salubrious' mean 'good'?"

"In a manner of speaking. Also, sweets are fun."

"Now, I can't argue with that," she said.

Muffy had to admit Alan had been on a "trying something new" streak lately, so maybe she should not have been so ready to doubt him. If something as simple as crepes made him happy, then she would not judge it.

"If that's what you want, Zen Master, it sounds good to me. When do you want to go? Is Wednesday after school okay? The play is this weekend, and I promised Francine I'd be there. And I was kind of hoping you and I could do something else on Sunday. If Wednesday doesn't work, we could push it back. We might have to wait until after Thanksgiving, though."

"Wednesday's fine," said Alan. "Thanks. What do you want to do on Sunday?"

"I was wondering if we could reschedule our Thursday tutoring sesh on that day. Thursday is opening night, and, you know, like I said, Francine… I know you've got work that morning, so if it's too much, just say so."

"I don't see any reason why we can't," said Alan, "and I'm proud of you for working tutoring into your schedule no matter what. I'll be there shortly after work, so be ready."

Alan offered her a smile and his fist, which she bumped with hers, and they promptly blew it up.

"Great," Muffy said, smiling herself. "I can send Bailey to pick you up. I'll have to clear everything with Daddy, naturally, but I'm sure he won't have a problem with it once he sees my progress report. Thanks, Alan. I really want to be there for Francine. She's been a total wreck since yesterday."

"So has everyone else, it would seem," said Alan, looking straight ahead.

He had come to a halt just inside the cafeteria entrance. Muffy froze in place next to him. Not far from where they stood was the table where they normally sat. Francine, Buster, and Arthur were already seated with their trays along with a handful of other Players, and the table looked to be in a state of pure pandemonium.

How could I have been so freaking stupid? Francine thought as her lunch sat in front of her, untouched. Inwardly, she was hating herself. Outwardly, she sang:

"As long as the Madison Public Library was entrusted

To me for the purpose of improving River City's cultural level,

I can't help my concern that the ladies of River City

Keep ignoring all my council and advice."

Ladonna, who played the part of Marian's mother, sat next to Francine, on her left. She was singing now, a rebuttal to her daughter. Francine was not really listening, however, just waiting for her next turn, hoping she would not trip over the lyrics when the time came.

Don't screw up, don't screw up, don't screw up…

She and Ladonna were not the only ones singing. At the opposite end of the table, Binky was helping Maria practice "Pick-A-Little, Talk-A-Little" with a dispassionate-looking Buster:

"Just melt her down and you'll reveal a lump of lead as cold as steel

Here, where a woman's heart should be…"

Everyone else at the table was in a frenzy, talking animatedly about how nervous they were about opening night as well as everything that needed to be altered before then. The singing and the chattering were becoming indistinguishable as each voice layered over another, and Francine felt as if she were trapped inside a bubble with the cacophony. The noise was getting to other people in the lunchroom as well. A stocky brown rabbit boy she hardly knew, who sat at the table behind her, dropped his fork on his tray with a loud clatter before rising from his seat and stomping off, grumbling about "annoying drama geeks" as he left for a table at the opposite side of the room. Francine kept singing. She had no choice.

"Mama!

Do you think that I'd allow a common masher—

Now, really Mama!

I've got standards where my men are concerned,

And—"

"Nope. Sorry." Ladonna had interrupted Francine, shaking her head while wearing a sympathetic frown. "It's, 'I have my standards where men are concerned'."

Francine recoiled at her mistake with a hiss. "Dammit," she muttered. "You're right."

"Wanna try that again?" Ladonna said kindly.

"Is there any point?"

Before Ladonna could answer, Muffy and Alan sat down with their trays, filling the gap between Francine and Binky.

"So," Muffy said evenly as she unscrewed the cap from a bottle of water, "how's rehearsal going?"

Muffy actually looked concerned. Alan said nothing, but he took a timid peek at Francine over Muffy's shoulder while taking a long sip from his bottled water before opening a packet of mustard for his corn dog.

"I'm crap!" Francine spat.

"She's doin' fine," Ladonna said calmly, almost as if she were trying to soothe everyone in her immediate vicinity instead of just Francine.

"Fine, maybe, but not good," Francine clarified for Muffy. "I keep messing up."

"They're just lil' mess-ups," said Ladonna with a wave. "You'll get this. Stop worryin'."

"Is there anything I can do?" said Muffy.

"If you could talk your tutor into building a time machine for me, that'd be great. Otherwise, I think we're boned."

None of this was Muffy's fault, and Francine knew that. She had not meant to sound so sardonic, but it was becoming difficult to hem in her stress. As well, she had not meant to say it so loudly. She had caught the attention of Arthur, who sat across the table next to Buster. His eyes cut in her direction, and she knew what he must be thinking. He had tried to warn her about shirking her understudy duties. If they had been on any real speaking terms, he surely would have given her a told-you-so ribbing as soon as they had found out about Fern. He was probably enjoying it, seeing her sweat, especially after their spat the other day after rehearsal. Arthur's impassive expression softened into a small smile when Sue Ellen sat down next to him, followed by Jenna. Francine expected Sue Ellen to strike up a conversation with Arthur; to her surprise, she turned to face Francine.

"Well, there is some good news," Sue Ellen said. "The order is in. Five hundred inserts explaining the cast changes, to be printed this afternoon. Jenna, George, and I are coming in early tomorrow to stuff the playbills. That way, we can get it done and have one less thing on our collective plate."

Francine knew that was not a dig. That was not really Sue Ellen's style. But being reminded of just how much extra work her eff-up had generated for everyone felt like a dig regardless.

"I'll help," Muffy piped up.

"Me, too," said Alan. "The larger your workforce is, the less time you'll need to spend on it."

And now the trouble she had caused was bleeding beyond the drama department and onto regular students. Fan-freaking-tastic.

"Wow," said Sue Ellen. "Thanks, guys."

"That's not all," said Jenna excitedly. "My mom happens to know a good seamstress who can take care of the alterations on yours and Maria's costumes. Her name is Mrs. Stubblefield, and she usually does quick work. Mom's coming around before rehearsal to pick everything up and drop it off with her. It shouldn't be a problem. I compared your measurements with Fern's yesterday evening, and they don't seem to need many drastic changes. She's definitely gonna need to add some length and let out the bust, though."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Francine said testily.

She was answered, not by Jenna, but by Muffy, who elbowed her gently. "She's saying you have bigger boobs than Fern, silly. Take it as a compliment."

"Oh my god…" Francine groaned, propping her elbows on the table so she could bury her face in her hands.

"What?" said Muffy. "I'd take it as a compliment. I'm envious of your boobs."

"Can we please—" Francine began before realizing her words were far too muffled to get her point across. She raised her head from her hands and repeated in a raised voice, "Can we please stop talking about my boobs? Stop looking at my boobs. Just stop saying the word 'boobs'. Okay?"

Everyone at the table fell silent. Muffy looked down at her tray for a moment or two before cracking a smirk. "Boobs," she said quietly before turning to Francine. Her smile quickly faded when she saw that Francine had not returned it.

Francine did not move her gaze from her best friend, for she was suddenly afraid to look at anyone else directly. Nausea crept up on her, causing a tiny ache in the back of her throat. She held her breath and said, "I've got to get out of here," to no one in particular. She nearly fell on her face trying to unwedge herself from in between the table and bench, and then she stumbled as she navigated around the packed tables on her way to the cafeteria doors. Once in the hall and free from the Players' stares, she sucked down air with several gasps. The urge to puke was not gone, but it felt less inevitable now that she was alone. Francine leaned against the wall and sank to the floor, clutching her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought the sickness.

I've got to get a grip. If someone sees me getting sick, they might send me home. I need all the rehearsal time I can get.

Footsteps were approaching Francine. From the soft clopping they made, they sounded like they belonged to a familiar pair of designer boots.

"Are you okay?" Muffy whispered loudly.

"Yeah…yeah," Francine said quietly, not bothering to look up. "Just felt a little sick, you know. This is a lot, Muffy. All the Players…I've really let them down."

"Do you need to go to the nurse?" said another soft voice Francine had not been expecting. It was Arthur.

Francine's eyes sprang open. "What are you doing here?" she said, glaring at him.

"I came out with Muffy to check on you," he said defensively, his expression telling her the answer should be obvious.

"You sure it wasn't to watch me squirm?"

"What?"

"Francine—" Muffy began, likely in Arthur's defense, but Francine would not hear it.

"Just like how you were so quick to volunteer your piano yesterday? Couldn't resist a front-row seat, I bet."

"I— I was trying to help!"

"Yeah, right."

She had more to say, but she paused. For a split second, a look of pure hurt flashed in Arthur's eyes. She did not think Arthur was lying. He had not so much as reached for his glasses, which would have been a dead giveaway. It was then Francine knew that she was being paranoid. It was then she knew she had gone too far. The wounded-animal look was gone, and Arthur gritted his teeth as he spoke again.

"Believe it or not, I don't want to see you fail, Francine. And even if I did, what makes you think I'd hang everyone else out to dry just to get to you?"

With that, Arthur turned and marched back into the lunchroom. Francine stared after him, stunned. The tiny ache crept up on her again.

"Muffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell anyone I was barfing in the bathroom."

As quickly as she could manage, Francine stood and scrambled to the nearest girls room, hand clamped desperately over her mouth.

To be continued…