Disclaimer: I still don't own the Ducks, just Maggie. I wouldn't mind owning Averman (Matt Doherty is way cute).

Adam: First of all, thank you for the review. I realize that Charlie has no sister, and I feel the same way you do about huge continuity errors. My original intention was to make Maggie just another girl who had become part of the Ducks' inner circle, but as I was writing this, the character took on a life of her own and was adamant about her place in the story. As a writer, I'm sure you understand. I know she's bordering on Mary Sue territory (I know!), but hopefully you can overlook that, as it's not a huge aspect of the story. Also, I did proofread the first chapter -- but it was late and I apologize for overlooking anything that is incorrect. I proofed this chapter about four times (I'm obsessive like that). And I'm sorry the first chapter was so short, but I was excited! You can't fault me for that :). Hopefully you like this chapter more.

I find Charlie and company at the park a few blocks down from our house. Adam and Guy wave a greeting, and Connie yells hello across the parking lot. I smile and wave back, heading for the swing set. I sit down and grab my headphones out of my bag, stealing a glance at Averman as I do so. After rifling through my CD's, I select my "Really Good Random Mix" and turn the volume up. I open my notebook to a fresh page and look back at everyone skating around the parking lot. God, he is so fucking cute.

I could just tell him, I know. It'd probably make things easier, having everything out in the open. Charlie says that I never know, he might feel the same way, and wouldn't knowing for sure be better than the uncertainty I'm currently experiencing? Maybe. In a perfect world, I'd be able to tell him everything: that when I cheer for the Ducks, I'm really only cheering for him; that I've spaced out in class because I was envisioning our first kiss for the zillion and twelfth time; that I want us all to go to StepNOut -- the teen club that opened up two months ago -- for my birthday next week because it's just an excuse to look extra hot around him. And in a perfect world, he'd respond that he doesn't think of me as just Charlie's sister Maggie, and in fact, he's wanted me since the very beginning but was too scared to say anything. Then he'd lean over, brush a loose strand of hair out of my eyes, gently cup my face in his hands, and kiss me. Waters would part and angels would sing.

Unfortunately, this is my life and not a scripted Happily Ever After.

Two lines pop into my head and I scribble them down. I want to tear the world apart / Until there's nothing in it but the two of us. I rack my brain for something else to add, but come up with nothing. Suddenly, my headphones are down around my neck and Charlie's in the swing beside me.

He follows my gaze. "You should just tell him," he says for the eightieth time this week. He pushes himself sideways, gently bumping my swing with his. "I bet he's into you, too."

"I don't even like him that much anymore," I lie, bumping him back. "So over him." Another lie, and Charlie sees right through it.

He grabs my notebook out of my hand, reads the scribbled lyrics, and looks at me, an eyebrow raised. "And I suppose this is about Goldberg?"

A shadow falls across our feet. "What's about Goldberg?"

I look up to see Fulton standing in front of me. "Nothing." As much as I've tried to mask my true feelings, it wouldn't surprise me if he knew. He's pretty perceptive. I try to peer around him, but he's not moving. Yeah, he probably does know.

I change the subject. "What are you doing next Tuesday?"

"I don't know, probably nothing. Why?"

I swing forward and kick him, losing a flip-flop in the process. "It's my birthday, Cake-Eater." Except for Charlie, Fulton knows me better than anybody else. I almost can't believe he forgot, until I look up at him. He's grinning.

"Joke," he says. "What do you have planned?"

"I'd like it if we could all go to StepNOut, but I don't know how everybody else feels about going to a dance club," I answer. Truth is, I know the guys won't really want to go, but I'm hoping they'll humor me because I'm the birthday girl.

Fulton makes a face, and I can hear my brother saying "no way" next to me. I stick out my lower lip and make a sore attempt at puppy dog eyes. "Please, guys? It's my birthday."

They shrug, noncommittal. "Maybe," Fulton replies.

"We'll put it to a vote," Charlie adds. The fair leader, that's him. No wonder he's captain.

I swing forward and kick Fulton's other leg. "To make things even," I explain with a smile. "Are you guys ready to call it quits? I'm hungry and I don't want to eat lunch by myself." I stand and put my flip-flop back on.

Charlie stands and stretches, then he and Fulton start to follow me back across the park. "We're just going home, right, Maggs?" he asks. "Because I'm broke."

"Me, too. Hey," I say, as we reach the others, "you guys hungry? We're heading back to our house for lunch if you want to come."

"I don't think Goldberg's ready for lunch," Averman says. He lines up a shot and takes it, hitting the goalie squarely in the chest.

Goldberg groans. "Ouch! Yeah, Averman, I'd much rather be hit by flying discs than eat. Why don't you aim for my face next time?"

"Well, now that I have your permission," he jokes.

The others skate their way across the parking lot to where we're standing. Once again, I'm momentarily surprised by how few of us there are. Some of the out-of-staters will be joining us next week, coming up to visit with the birthday girl, but I'll have to wait until school starts in the fall before we're all together again.

Charlie and Fulton lace their rollerblades back up and start off in the direction of our house. I walk after them as the others follow. Since I'm the only one not skating, it doesn't take long before I fall behind. I put my headphones back on, but they're back around my neck again in no time. This time Fulton is the culprit.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself."

"So, who is he?"

I glance over at him. I'm surprised, though I know I probably shouldn't be. Like I said, the kid is nothing if not perceptive. I decide to play dumb. "Who's who?"

"Maggie." He skates ahead of me and circles back. "Do I look stupid? Careful how you answer that," he adds. "I'm a whole lot bigger than you."

I shrug. "It doesn't matter. It's not like he'd ever feel the same way about me." Unfortunately.

Fulton snorts. "What are you talking about? You're friendly and easygoing. You...you have awesome taste in music. You're creative and...and you're fun. What guy wouldn't want to date a girl like you?"

Thanks for the pep talk, Coach. "Have you ever thought about dating me?"

He shakes his head. "No way, you're like a sister to me. Oh," he says, as he realizes what I'm after.

"Yeah."

"Well, maybe --"

I hold up a hand to silence him before he can carry on further. I don't want to hear it. We continue on in silence for a few minutes, until Fulton nudges me and skates ahead to catch up with Connie and Guy.

The last one home, I toss my bag on the floor by the couch -- hope nobody trips over it, that could result in another chipped tooth -- and head into the kitchen. It's loud in here, but it usually is when you get the eight of us together. I leave my headphones where they are, but turn the volume up so I can hear the CD.

Opening the fridge, I grab the bread, milk, butter, and two slices of Velveeta. I put two slices of bread in the toaster and pull a can of tomato soup out of the pantry. I grab a bowl and spoon from the dishwasher, but I can't find the can opener anywhere. I scan the kitchen and find it laying beside the microwave just as my toast pops up. After heating up the mixed soup and milk, I butter the toast, sandwich the Velveeta in between the two slices, and microwave my sandwich. Goldberg asks me what I'm making.

"Grilled cheese and tomato soup," I answer. "Best meal ever."

Goldberg shakes his head. "I don't know. It's good, but I wouldn't consider it the best meal ever."

"Well, I would," I say. "Finding me a guy that can cook would be awesome, but as long as he can make me grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, I'll be happy." I'm not joking, either. That's been my birthday dinner for years.

"You're a cheap date," Averman teases me. He scoots over and pats the seat next to him. "You're sitting by me."

I take a seat next to him. Being in such close proximity to him both thrills me and makes me nervous, and I have to remind myself to breathe. I want to say something clever, but nothing comes to mind. I busy myself with my meal instead and don't realize that Connie's talking to me until Averman elbows me.

I look up. "Sorry, what?"

Connie smiles. "It's okay, I just asked what you were listening to."

"Ben Lee. He's kind of like John Mayer, only good. Lots of guitar, he's really mellow."

She nods. "Guys with guitars are sexy," she says. Guy makes a face.

I laugh. "Yeah, they are." So are hockey players with curly red hair and glasses.

"What about redheads that play hockey?" Averman asks.

"The sexiest," I respond. "Can you cook?"

Averman grins. My God, I love his smile. "I can make tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. What else do you need?" Like he has to ask.

I notice that the other end of the table has fallen silent at the same instant I realize that Charlie still has my notebook. Oh, no. Charlie has it open on the table, and Fulton and Adam are reading over his shoulder. I drain the rest of my soup and slam my bowl down on the table. Goldberg looks up from his meal, but immediately looks back down after seeing the look on my face.

"Charlie?"

He looks at me. Busted.

"Do you know why I'm so unhappy?"

Fulton tries to intervene. "Maggs, come on. These are...they're really good, okay? I mean, for being all girly and unrequited love-ish."

I close my eyes and inhale. "Not helping." I get up from the table and snatch my book out of my brother's hands before stomping up to my room.