Batty usually had a song in her repertoire for every occasion. But as Rosalind putted about the house lost in thoughts over how best to communicate her identity crisis (or whatever was going on) to Tommy, Batty was at a loss.

She told Jeffrey as he plinked out a melody on Alec's piano that she clearly needed to expand her range.

"Your repertoire is seriously amazing," he said. "It's crazy how many songs you know. Musical theater, country, a little bit of rock, opera. Super impressive."

Batty stomped her foot and shook her head.

"Stop complimenting me," she said. "You are my mentor, you're supposed to be hard on me. Give me critiques. Constructive criticism."

Jeffrey shrugged and lifted his palms to the air.

"You may have caught up to me, Batty," he said. "When I was sixteen and you were eight, sure, I was way ahead. But you've grown immensely in the last few years, we might be even."

"Nonsense," Batty said. "Not possible. You tour all over. You are a professional, and I am a mere student."

"Everyone who hears you sing knows you got it, and that you're gonna be a star," Jeffrey said. "I knew it when you were five."

"Well, I still want to practice," Batty said in a rush.

Jeffrey was antsy, she could tell. He loved to work on music as much as anyone, but he also had the patience of a kid these days. He was always tapping his foot to get outdoors, play some soccer, run around with Skye. Always Skye. Batty figured that he hadn't seen her in ages, and he wanted to make the most of their brief time together.

But Batty also felt that Jeffrey had sworn allegiance to the Penderwick Family. And that meant he had to be a friend to all the Penderwicks. And she was most definitely a Penderwick.

Jeffrey shuffled through some sheet music.

"Alright, let's try 'She Used to be Mine,'" he said. "Deceptive because it's kinda poppy but also rooted in musical theater, and you have to be able to hit those notes while doing some serious acting."

Batty nodded and ran through a few warm-ups.

Jeffrey played the opening notes and she began: It's not simple to say that most days, I don't recognize me.

After she ran through it once, she asked Jeffrey for feedback.

"Great," he said. "You knocked it outta the park."

Batty rolled her eyes and sat down next to him on the bench.

"Seriously, Jeffrey," she said. "You have gone soft."

"I wonder if this song is how Rosie is feeling," Jeffrey said. "Remembering her youthful self, missing her former life."

"Rosalind doesn't lie," Batty said. "She never lied."

"We all lie sometimes," Jeffrey said. "To others or to ourselves."

"Very deep," Batty said. She bumped her shoulder against Jeffrey.

She knew it was futile to flirt with him. That he probably wasn't even registering it as flirting. But she couldn't help it. She hadn't spent time with Jeffrey since Wesley. Wesley had been her first love, but she had always like Jeffrey. And she was older now, whether Jeffrey realized it or not.

Jeffrey was still examining the lyrics.

"Although Tommy was part of Rosie's youth and former life," he said. "Mayhaps therein lies the problem."

Batty stood up and walked to the windows. She crossed her arms across the chest.

"Everyone has a lot to say about everyone else's relationship," Batty said.

Jeffrey popped his head up.

"Is this about Rosie snapping at you about getting an older boyfriend in college?" he asked.

"My God," Batty said. "Jane really does tell everyone about everything."

"Skye told me actually," Jeffrey said. "And I'm not everyone."

"Yeah, well, it's still none of your business," she said. "You're not actually a Penderwick."

Jeffrey stood up and crossed the room.

"You ok, Battikins?" he said. "Look, I'm sure Wesley was great, but if he could just walk away from you and go to Missouri or wherever, it's his loss."

For a second Batty relished the comfort. Then she reminded herself that Jeffrey was talking to her like a sister. He would always treat her like a sister. Not even a friend. And definitely not a love interest.

"Don't call me Battikins," she said.

"Sorry," Jeffrey said. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I can call you Elizabeth if you like."

Batty shrugged. She knew her nickname was odd to a lot of people, but she had never felt like Elizabeth.

"I like Batty," she said at last. "My mom gave me that name."

Jeffrey nodded and meandered back to the piano. He started messing around with a diddy he had been composing. It was light and airy and fast.

Alec wandered in from the upstairs. Batty glanced up at his wrinkled shirt.

"Musicians at work?" he said casually. But his eyes seemed to linger on Batty. He was wary about something. As if he thought Batty might yell at him.

"Trying to work," Batty said. "But Jeffrey is washed up as a mentor. I've gotten literally no help from him."

Jeffrey's shoulders stiffened, but he continued to dance his fingers across the piano.

"Well, maybe you've outgrown him," Alec joked. He plopped down on the couch and seemed to relax.

"Maybe," Batty said with a melodramatic sigh. "It's like he almost doesn't care about music anymore, he's too busy chasing Skye."

Jeffrey's hands stilled. Alec forced out a chuckle. Batty knew she should stop, but she was thrilled that Jeffrey had reacted. At last, she had done something that affected him.

"As if there's even a point," Batty said with a light toss of her head. "She's clearly not over Dusek, and they'll probably just get back together, no one else wants to put up with her bear of a personality."

Jeffrey shoved his fingers down onto the piano, once in an angry chord. Then he rolled his neck. He turned towards Batty with a lazy smile.

"You know, Batty," he said. "You've been acting like way more of a baby than you ever did when you were four."

Batty felt tears rushing to her face, her stupid face that could never hide anything.

"Ah, you're going to cry again as usual," Jeffrey said. "Just like Batty always does."

Batty only saw red. She clamped her mouth shut and rushed out of the side door.

She wanted him to follow. No, she couldn't face him. She rushed down the path to Birches. She wanted Rosalind, not Jeffrey.

But before she burst into Rosalind's room, she pulled up short.

Baby Batty, crying to Rosalind, just like always.

With a monumental effort, Batty turned and headed to her own bedroom instead. She refused to be the baby anymore.