Mart glanced helplessly around the party room of the country club. Finally, his eyes managed to single out Dan in a dimly lit corner of the room. He hurried over, exclaiming in irritation "There you are. It took me forever to find you. Why are you standing over here in the dark?"

As Dan whipped his head around to face him, Mart realized that he had missed a lot of clues. It wasn't just Dan – he had Joanie Jircitano nestled comfortably against the wall. Whatever he was pulling, it was working, judging by the moony doe eyes she was making at him.

At least, it had been. Mart could literally see himself ruin the moment as her romantic expression turned to surprise. Well, he wouldn't have to worry about Mr. Lynch, if Dan killed him.

Dan's annoyance could be read clearly in his eyes. But he was desperately trying to keep his expression cool, trying not to alarm his prey – target – no, romantic equal, Mart hastily corrected himself. "So sorry, the office clearly calls. Don't go away," he teased as Mart spun him back to face him.

Now, away from Joanie, Dan's face was indignant. "What the hell are you doing to me?" he demanded in a harsh whisper.

"I need your help, man," Mart pleaded.

Dan's face softened, just a little, and he rubbed a weary hand over the bridge of his nose. Finally, he responded, "Belden, you're lucky I like you. More importantly, I like your mother and I would hate to cause her the distress of losing a child. What do you want?"

"I need you to get me a beer," Mart blurted.

Dan scoffed. "Weird time to take up drinking, my man."

"No," Mart tried to explain, "I was trying to buddy up with Mr. Lynch. He asked me to get him a beer at the bar. I don't want to tell him I couldn't do it. It sets me up, like I'm not a real man. I'm a little kid who can't even fetch a beer. I'm not man enough to take care of Diana. Why would he ever want me dating her?"

Dan blinked at him. "You're not a real man, and you can't take care of Diana. Do you really think you're fooling him?"

"Shut up, Dan!" Mart retorted. "Seriously, you gotta help me out."

"Just walk up to the bar and ask for a beer," Dan shrugged his shoulders at the obvious explanation.

"Oh, gleeps, Dan, I'm so glad you were here to share that wisdom with me. Wherever would I be, without you there, pointing out the obvious? I understand how ordering a beer works! I already tried, and he asked for my ID."

Dan's expression hardened. "What, you think I have a fake ID? That's a misdemeanor, Mart." Almost instinctively, he started looking around the room, as if to see who might be listening.

"No," Mart tried hastily, "I just thought you'd know how to get it. Come on, Dan, it's not a big deal."

Dan seemed to almost waver. Mart couldn't tell if it was for his own sake, or because Joanie seemed a bit bored to realize Dan wasn't willing to be the bad boy. She had a gleam in her eyes when Mart tried to get Dan involved in his scheme. That gleam had faded into a dull disinterest by now.

But then Dan's eyes landed on Spider Webster – off duty, sure, but still a cop. "Forget it," Dan hissed. "I'm already on probation. I'm not catching a case so you can impress your girlfriend's dad."

"Right," Mart sighed. "No, you're right. I get it. Forget it, okay?"

Dan just shot him a dirty look, discouraging any further talk about it, and returned to Joanie. Mart didn't think Dan would be getting any further tonight, however. When he figured out his current predicament, next on the list would have to be making it up to Dan somehow.

Mart walked away, trying to decide what to do next. It was resolved quickly when Tad patted him on the back. "Hey Belden," he greeted him. "How's it hanging?" Mart considered cracking a joke about the letterman's jacket slung over his shoulder – it was 81 degrees! But he needed his help, so he stifled.

"Can you get a beer from the bar for me?" he asked. Tad looked thoughtful for the smallest second, then stood up straighter and puffed his shoulders.

"Sure," he replied nonchalantly. He began to swagger off when Mart called him back.

"I think you better lose the high school jacket," he advised.

"Huh?" Tad replied. "Oh, right. Sure. Good call, man."

He strutted confidently off again, Mart following a few steps behind. He got there just in time to hear the bartender ask for ID. Tad never hesitated, pulling his drivers license confidently out and slapping it on the bar. "Here you are, my good man," he replied.

Mart, from a safe distance, just pinched his lips tightly together. Dammit, Webster.

The bartender picked up the ID, glancing over it disinterestedly. But then he paused, looking at Tad incredulously, and back at the card. "My good man," he echoed Tad sarcastically after a long silence. "This says you're 17."

Tad at least had the good grace to look flustered. "Uh, right," he tried to explain lamely. "Right. I must have grabbed my twin brother's ID by accident."

Dammit, Webster!

The bartender stared at him, his mouth agape for a moment as if he just couldn't find the words. Finally, he replied slowly, "Right. Well, your twin brother and you should typically be the same age, you know. Which is under 21. Coke'll do, then?"

"Yeah, that's fine, thanks," Tad mumbled sheepishly. He turned to Mart with a helpless shrug. Mart just shook his head, turning away. "Send an idiot to do a man's job," he muttered under his breath. Who was actually smart enough to pull this off?

He considered his odds at asking Brian or Jim. They might have been able to think of something. But they probably wouldn't even try, and the lecture would never end. But then, just like that, the answer came to him.

He darted across the room, pulling Trixie away from Jim. Far away, where Jim couldn't hear and stop her. He briefly outlined the problem.

To his surprise, she didn't make fun of him once. She screwed up her nose for half a second, contemplating. "Got it," she announced. With one, confident nod, she began striding over toward the bar.

Mart followed her, taking long strides to keep up. For someone so short, she sure moved fast. She stopped abruptly, never actually making it to the bar. She just watched, silently. "What are you…" Mart started.

"Shh," she interrupted him. There was enough annoyance in her voice to make it clear – not another word.

So he just waited, while she studied the room. Then she suddenly walked off.

"Tom! I wanted to talk to you!" she exclaimed, just as he set his beer down on the table.

She put one hand on his arm, making sure she got his attention. He spun around, turning to face her. "Well, you know I'm 16 now," she began, waving Mart to take the drink behind Tom's back. "I was thinking about getting a used car. You know, just something simple I can afford. But I don't know anything about cars, and you know so much. What's a good starter car?"

Mart followed her lead, sneaking up behind Tom to snatch the drink he hadn't even opened, while he expounded at length about the best car. He hurried away quickly, mouthing a silent, "I owe you," to Trixie.

From the smug look she shot him as he disappeared into the crowd, she wasn't about to let him forget it.

When Mart finally returned to Mr. Lynch, triumphant, he could have sworn that he looked surprised. Either he hadn't expected Mart to succeed, or he had simply forgotten he ever asked.

In either case, Mart felt a little…embarrassed. He thought he was showing Diana's father that he could manage on his own. But he was just a little kid that Mr. Lynch had running errands to keep busy. He didn't stick around for another chore, just handed him the bottle politely and retreated. Back inside, with the rest of the kids.

Diana smiled at him from across the room, a giggle clearly bubbling just under the surface. She had been talking with the other Bob Whites, all looking at him now with similar smiles of amusement. Oh great. He got to be a joke here, too. Trixie was laughing the loudest of all. Her and her big mouth.

He approached the table just in time to hear Trixie finish, still giggling, "He went on about alternators for 20 minutes. Did you know you're supposed to test the alternator with a voltage meter? And the battery? I don't remember what he said, but it has to be, like, a specific number."

"14," Brian answered absentmindedly, as though he didn't even mean to say the words. He flushed when he realized he had spoken, looking uncomfortable. "Sorry. Continue."

Trixie just rolled her eyes. "Figures. I'll bring Know-It-All Brian with me when I actually go car shopping. That is, if Tom can't go. At this point, I think he'd be disappointed to be left out. Oh! And did you know, the alternator in the Mustang is problematic at high RPMs?" She nodded with a forced seriousness.

Diana giggled. "I don't even know what an RPM is. Tom better take us both.".

"Rotations per minute," Brian explained. Then, hearing himself, he threw his hands up in disgust. "What is the matter with me? Can someone get me a straw so I can suck all the fun out of it?"

Irritated with himself, he stood up from the table abruptly and stalked away.

"Brian!" Honey called, hurrying after him. She shot a dirty look at Trixie before she left. Well, dirty for Honey. From anyone else, it would have read as mild annoyance at best.

Trixie sulked a little but shrugged her shoulders defiantly. "Well, he shouldn't be such a know-it-all," she retorted.

Mart felt a little bad for both his siblings, knowing that deep down they meant well. Still, he was too happy to realize the joke wasn't on him to intervene. Trixie sighed after a moment.

"I guess I should go apologize," she admitted. "He's not even half the know-it-all that Mart is, after all." She walked off to find Brian and Honey, Jim close on her heels.

"Mart," Diana began softly, "You know you didn't have to do all that. You could have just told Daddy that you couldn't. Or told him that the bartender wouldn't give it to you underage. He'd understand."

Mart rubbed his forehead. "I guess," he admitted. "I just didn't want to look like a little kid. How is your dad going to accept me as the new man in your life? If I can't even get a beer, how am I supposed to show him I could take care of you?"

Diana looked offended. "Take care of me? Since when do I need you to take care of me?"

"Oh, geez, Di, come on. You know what I mean. When we're married, he's going to want to know that I can handle things."

"When we're married?" Di echoed.

Mart looked at her, realizing what he had said. He faltered for just a moment, then stopped. "Yes," he replied firmly, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. "When we're married. Is that okay by you?" he asked. He said the last part lightly, trying to make it a joke, but the nervousness in his voice betrayed him.

She smiled softly. "Yeah...I guess it's okay," she agreed.

He took her hand and squeezed it, and she took the opportunity to move toward the dance floor. As they walked, he continued, "So when we're married, he's going to want to be comfortable that I'm able to handle things. Be a man. Solve problems. Not because you're helpless or anything like that. But he's not going to be happy thinking I'm helpless either. Just some hapless moron with good hair who bamboozled his daughter and is spending all her money."

Di giggled as they reached the dance floor. She turned to face him, running a hand through his closely cropped crew cut. "Good hair. Right. That's what got me."

He laughed, too, happy she got the joke. "Hey, what's left up there is top quality," he retorted, pointing to his head. "Anyway, I just wanted him to feel okay about it. Like I have potential, I guess. I'm not just some broke high school kid. Or some big mouth with lots of big fancy words to show off. He's already gonna hate me." He put her hands on her waist, beginning to sway to the music.

She put her arms around his neck, looking shocked. "He is not going to hate you!" she denied emphatically.

"No, Di, he is. I mean, think about it. You were a good, sweet girl. Then I come along. No matter what, I'm that guy, the one that took away his sweet little girl, right?"

Diana actually snorted, a noise he wasn't sure he had ever heard her make before. Then she straightened up, trying to hold her laughter in and look serious.

"Yeah, you're right," she agreed sagely. "I mean, I was! I was an angel! Then you started whispering dictionary definitions and big words at me until my panties dropped. Some guys have sweet nothings, but you'd just murmur, 'Did you know that cosmonaut and astronaut both share the suffix naut from the Greek word for sailor?' I mean, it's really not fair. What girl could resist? You cad! You rake!"

She doubled over again. "Holy cow," she giggled. "If this is the way your father acts about dating it's no wonder Jim's scared to death to ask Trixie out. Where do you get this stuff?"

He ignored the last part – it didn't interest him in the slightest- and instead leaned over to whisper in her ear. "I realize you're making fun of me, but it's incredibly hot that you remember an etymology lesson," he admitted in a voice too low for anyone else to hear.

She straightened up suddenly, looking around at the room. "Want to go for a walk?" she offered, an eyebrow raised suggestively.

With one hand firmly on her elbow, he practically sprinted outside. She giggled again. "Slow down, I'm in heels!" she chastised.

Honey sat quietly next to Brian on a bench outside. She didn't say anything at first, but neither did he, so she finally simply asked, "You okay?"

He sighed. "Yeah," he agreed, but she couldn't help but think he didn't sound okay. "Sorry."

She fidgeted absently with a bracelet, trying to decide what else to say. If she didn't ask, did it seem like not caring? If she did ask, was it prying?

But after a moment of silence, he solved the issue for her.

"When I lived at home," he admitted, "I wanted to be a doctor and I took that pretty seriously. I studied hard. I mean, you know that," he admitted with a chuckle. "No one ever really made me- I don't know - question that. I guess since I was the oldest, the Bobwhites always seemed to appreciate that I knew so much. Even at school, the people I hung out with knew I took school seriously, and most of them did too."

"Right," she agreed slowly, and for some reason, Loyola was the first person who popped into her head. She had heard Loyola got into MIT – but Brian couldn't be jealous of that, could he?

He shook his head, and for a moment she wondered if she had accidentally said that thought out loud. But then she realized he was still lost in thought.

"It's just different in college," he finally explained. "It's hard work, and you have to study all the time or you won't pass. But at the same time, the professors will tell us not to study too hard, you have to take breaks, you have to have fun, or you'll burn out. A lot of the other students find ways to do things, or have hobbies or whatever. Even at the hospital when I'm working, people go out together all the time after work. No one just lives and breathes medical textbooks except me. Then I know the information for class, which is great, except…" he paused, looking up at the sky while he tried to find the words.

"Do they make fun of you? Call you a know-it-all?" she asked gently.

He laughed, shortly. "No, not really. No one has to say it," he admitted. "It's me. I notice it. I'm there with all the answers, I just can't remember anymore why that used to be a good thing. There's more than becoming a doctor, you know," he stated.

"Of course there is," Honey agreed, still not really understanding.

"So how come I'm the only one that can't figure out what it is?" he asked bluntly.

"Figure out what?" she asked in confusion.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Never mind. Don't worry about it, Honey."

She wrinkled her brow, trying to piece together what he was saying. Finally, she said, "So you realize you're trying harder than the other kids but you're not really proud of it. You wish you had something besides medical school to care about…" she offered tentatively.

He turned to face her, his face almost lighting up. "Yes!" he agreed enthusiastically. "Yes! That's exactly what I'm trying to say. How in the hell did -no offense – but how did you of all people summarize all of that in a few simple sentences?"

She punched him in the arm gently. "I'm not always long-winded. Or confused. Maybe you should care about learning some tact," she teased him.

He grinned at her, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe. See, the problem isn't that I don't have any hobbies or anything. I mean, there's lots of stuff I could do at school. I could join a club. I could go to a party. I've tried plenty of activities. But I never feel like it's something I really want to be doing. Focusing on school comes naturally to me, it just feels like maybe there's something else I should be doing. Everyone says there's more to life, right? So why am I just a nerd with a book?"

She thought this over for a moment. "I don't think you're a nerd with a book at all," she disagreed. He chucked for a moment, but she cut him off. "No, really. You did more in school than just study, even if it doesn't seem like it now. Maybe you're just realizing that the things you really like can't be found at college, except learn. So that's the phase of life you're in right now. Now you study, because it's time to study. That's not all you are, though."

He rubbed his chin. "Well, that doesn't sound so bad," he admitted.

"Someday there's going to be more to your life than that," she promised. "If you feel like something's missing, that means you want more. It's just not the right time yet. And that's a good thing. I mean, if being a doctor was it for you, what would you do after that? What would the rest of your life be for? Medical school is just right now. There's more coming later. You'll know what that is when it's time."

He squeezed her arm in a friendly gesture. "Honey, you're absolutely fantastic," he praised her. "I know where I'm going for counseling next time I have a problem. You just solved months of worry in about 5 minutes."

She blushed. "Sometimes it's just easier for someone else to see it," she murmured.

"Hmm," he agreed noncommittally. "Sometimes it's just easier to talk to the most empathetic person you've ever met."

If it was possible, she felt like she flushed even redder. "I don't know about that," she protested modestly.

Diana and Mart scurried past just then, arm in arm. But as they passed, Di turned her head to meet Honey's gaze. With one eyebrow raised pointedly and a curious look on her face, Honey knew exactly what she was thinking.

She shook her head slightly at Di, telling her to go away, and Di just grinned, not understanding the meaning of the message.

It occurred to Honey at that moment that, cozy as she and Brian probably looked to the outside world, she hadn't once thought of her old crush on him. Maybe she really was moving on.

An old saying she had picked up somewhere suddenly popped into her head. She couldn't remember where she had heard it. Something like, "If you can still be friends with an ex, you're either still in love or you never were."

She couldn't help but wonder which one it was. For some reason, neither answer made her feel better.

Trixie had tried to follow Brian outside, meaning to apologize for her crack about him being a know-it-all. Geez, when did he get so sensitive, she wondered to herself.

But she hadn't even reached the door when Tad sidled up to her, a friendly smile on his face. "Trix!" he called. "Hey, Jim," he added.

"Hello, Tad," Jim responded politely. "How've you been?"

"Oh, fine," Tad replied noncommittally. "We started football practice. The heat's killing me, man."

Trixie wanted to ask him why he was wearing a letterman jacket if he thought it was so hot outside, but she managed to bite her tongue. She was only half-listening, anyway, her mind still focused on her brother and the apology she owed him.

A few more pleasantries were exchanged. Tad asked Jim about college, and they chatted amiably for a while until she heard Tad say, "Well, that's nice that you get to be home for the summer and see your girlfriend, at least."

Her ears perked up at that, and she and Jim exchanged an awkward glance. They both spoke over each other at the same time-

"I'm not his girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend."

Tad raised an eyebrow, suddenly looking interested. "She's not? I-wow. That's really great you guys could stay friends like that. I'm not friends with any of my exes," he admitted.

Again, Jim and Trixie began speaking over each other.

"We never went out," Trixie explained as Jim said, "No, we didn't break up."

They looked at each other again, and Trixie finally added lamely, "We're just friends."

"Oh," Tad went silent for a moment, apparently thinking this over. He glanced at Jim, trying to read something on his face. Trixie noticed the exchange. But Jim had steeled his face, his expression unrecognizable.

"You want to catch a movie sometime?" Tad offered.

Now it was Trixie's turn to study Jim. His face was still blank but the back of his neck was reddening. "No," she replied almost too quickly. "I mean, thanks. I'm so busy already this summer. And I'm working at the Inn. And I have family in town next week."

Tad chuckled. "It doesn't have to be this week, Trixie," he pointed out.

"Right," she agreed, feeling a little silly. "Well, I'm really busy," she repeated lamely.

"I can wait," he told her with a casual shrug. "You let me know if you're ever not busy, okay?"

"Okay," she replied, glancing uneasily again at Jim. "I have to go find Brian. We'll talk to you later, Tad."

With a little wave, they resumed their original course. But Jim wasn't following her now, his long legs propelling him ahead.

"Slow down, Jim," she panted after a moment, trying to keep up. Stupid shoes, she thought.

He stopped, turning around abruptly to face her. "Really, Trixie?" he demanded.

"Really what?" she retorted in annoyance. Like any of this was her fault.

"Maybe I'm not your 'boyfriend'," he began, making air quotes at the word boyfriend. "But-"

She slapped at his hand in frustration. "Don't do that," she snapped. "It's not 'boyfriend' – now she made air quotes herself, mimicking him. "You either are, or you aren't, my boyfriend. And you aren't."

"Fine!" he bit back. "But still-" he paused for a moment, trying to swallow down his anger. She wasn't wrong, after all, and deep down he knew it. In a calmer tone, he began again. "Do you have to make a date with Tad right in front of me? Can I at least be in the bathroom or something?"

She scoffed. "I didn't make a date with Tad. I turned down a date with Tad," she corrected him. He frowned at her, and she threw her arms up in frustration. "I didn't tell him to ask me, did I? I wasn't even over there to talk to him!" she defended herself.

Jim said nothing but his face had softened a bit. Trixie knew the storm was passing. So she continued, teasing, "Look, you're just going to have to understand that I am a highly desirable person that other people want to talk to."

"Well," Jim admitted with a smile, "I suppose that's true."

She let out an abrupt bark of laughter. Even though it was her joke, his agreement seemed absurd to Trixie, who had never – who would never – see herself that way.

"You're an idiot," she proclaimed.

"Well," Jim said, echoing his previous words with an even wider smile. "I suppose that's true."

She laughed again. "Besides," she admitted. "You don't have to worry about that meathead. He's a goon."

Jim knew the words were supposed to be reassuring. But he couldn't help but wonder – then who did he have to worry about?

Mart and Di had found a rather secluded spot in the courtyard to – well, enjoy each other's company. Unfortunately, their private interlude was cut short when they both noticed a strange popping noise. Mart tried to ignore it at first. But when Di sat up straight, turning her head to listen, Mart knew the moment was over.

He stood up, looking around to see where the sound was coming from. A large decorative gazebo blocked his view, and he walked around it to the other side of the courtyard.

A group of kids was standing underneath a large tree. Mart quickly realized they were Di's younger brothers and sisters – two sets of twins, amazingly enough. Mart being Mart had looked it up once – the odds were estimated at 700,000 to one. Then again, Mart knew stranger things happened. After all, Diana was with him, and Brian had once declared the odds of that as a million to one.

Mart immediately walked toward them. He didn't have to see any more to know that whatever was happening, it was probably no good. He also couldn't help but wonder where Bobby was, since he was usually inseparable from the twins at things like this.

Di was following close behind, probably having similar thoughts. Just then, Mart heard it again, a rapid-fire snap-snap-snap. Something was falling out of the tree, and it clicked at that moment.

The girls shrieked, running away from the tree-ambush. Mart jogged quickly over, and Larry and Terry looked up, realizing they were caught. "Cheese it," he heard one whisper loudly, and the shaking in the tree stopped abruptly.

When he finally reached them, he glanced up into the tree's branches, one hand already outstretched. "Give them here, Bobby," he demanded calmly. A loud sigh from the tree let him know that his order was heard.

Bobby scrambled out of the tree, putting what was left of the box in Mart's open hand with a pout. With a quick glance, Mart confirmed what he already knew – novelty firework "party snaps". Well, at least he had used them at the right time – just the wrong way, Mart thought to himself.

Behind him, he could hear Diana begin to admonish them. "Boys!" she exclaimed in surprise. "You can't have those here. And you can't throw them at people! You could have hurt the girls."

"Sorry," all three boys responded automatically. Mart couldn't help but think they didn't sound sorry at all. But it was, apparently, enough to appease Diana, who simply chided, "Better choices, boys."

Mart smoothed out Bobby's clothes, trying to fix as much devastation as he could before Moms had a fit. "And no more trees, Bobby. Moms'll kill you if you wreck your dress clothes. Of course, I'd get my own room if she did," he mused. Bobby shot him a dirty look at the suggestion. But Bobby was at least smart enough to recognize that he was on dangerous ground at the moment, and didn't say anything for fear of retribution.

"Go inside, boys," Mart commanded firmly. The boys walked off slowly at first, dejected over their lost fireworks. But in a moment, it was as if they already forgot, instead racing each other to the door. Mart just rolled his eyes.

"My hero," Di cooed, giving him a hug. Mart blushed at the attention, though he didn't mind at all. "I endeavor to invariably render assistance to my pulchritudinous inamorata."

"Well, thank you," Di responded, having no idea what he just said but assuming she knew the gist.