A/N: todd has cerebral palsy. sorry, i kept implying it but i kept forgetting what it was called until my mom said something about starving kids in africa and kids with cerebral palsy when i told her i'm a vegetarian. [which i have been for the past three months so i don't know why she was surprised]

cl;

I slept through most of Saturday.

–

On Sunday, I wake up to the doorbell ringing. Groggily, I wake up. I splash some cold water on my face, tie my bed hair into a ponytail, and begin to brush my teeth. "Claire! Answer the door, will you? I'm busy working!" My father yells.

I sigh, spit out the toothpaste, wipe my mouth, and jog downstairs, where my mother is yapping into her Blackberry and my father is hunched over his laptop. On a fucking Sunday. I take a peek into the living room. Todd is eating scrambled eggs and yoghurt, although most of the yogurt was all over him and not on the plate or in his stomach. I smile.

I open the door. "Hey, Claire," Derrick greets. He was holding a science textbook in one hand and keys in another, and his eyebrows are raised at me. "You look... different."

"Hate to break it to you but this is what girls look like without make up," I snap, before feeling bad because I have totally forgotten about the library. "What time is it?" I ask weakly, putting a hand to my forehead. "How long did you wait? I'm so, so, so sorry," I begin to apologize, but he holds up a hand.

"It's only ten," he says. "Well, it's ten fifteen, but you get the idea."

My sympathy turns into anger. "Then what are you doing at my house?" I ask, my voice raising.

"The library is closed," Derrick announces. "So I thought we could do the project at your house."

"That's so not a good idea," I blurt. "You should've called, or-"

"I would've, but on Friday you told me that if my phone number didn't cure cancer, you didn't want it, remember?" Derrick reminds me, smirking. I look behind me, then smack his arm.

I hear clacking heels as my mother walks up behind me. "Why, hello," she says, all smiles and fairies and other happy shit. "Who're you? A friend of Claire's?" I look at her, trying to see how she's behaving. My mom has subtle ways to tell if she likes or doesn't like someone, and over the course of seventeen years, I've perfected the art of recognizing them.

"Derrick Harrington," Derrick says, holding out a hand and standing considerably straight, using a smile that belongs in a toothpaste ad.

"Oh, Melinda's son?" My mother says, sounding ecstatic. Great, she likes Derrick. Just fucking great.

"Do you want to come inside?" I ask Derrick through gritted teeth. "Thirsty, anything?"

"Well, I have to go to the office, Claire. Be a good hostess," Mom says cheerfully, walking through the front door.

"Yeah," I deadpan. I close the door harder than I normally would, and lock it with vigor.

Derrick looks at me and lets out a long whistle. "So that was your mother," he murmurs. "No wonder."

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. "No wonder what?"

"You're so... you."

I don't know what he means and I don't care. I get a glass of water in the kitchen. "Wait here," I tell Derrick. "I'm going to get dressed. Don't touch anything. Don't go anywhere. Don't do anything."

My dad's disappeared into his first study, thank god. I run upstairs, find a white Ralph Lauren Polo shirt, Sevens jeans, and Michael Kors flats, then run back downstairs, hoping I'd make it before any collateral damage had occurred between my house and Derrick Harrington.

I look in the kitchen. He isn't there.

I sigh, then walk into the dining room. He isn't there. I walk back out, go into the living room. He's there, kneeling at Todd's level, smiling at him. My chest tightens.

"So, uh, do you like planes or trains better?" Derrick is asking my brother. I hide in the kitchen silently, watching the exchange. "Because, you know, I always thought it was more fun to imagine that food was a train. You know, the train goes into the tunnel, choo choo."

Todd stares at him.

Derrick nods. "Yeah, planes work too. The plane is going into the err, plane tunnel, zoom." Todd laughs and puts a big spoonful of yoghurt into his mouth. "Right. Zoom." He gives Todd a thumbs up. Todd tries to mimick him, but he can't hold only one finger up. "We'll work on it."

dh;

Once Claire disappears upstairs, I get bored in like, two seconds, so I go to look at the rest of the house. The dining room is perfectly set for four people, even if I once heard Claire tell Massie her parents are never home for dinner anymore.

Then, I hear something splat, and I walk back through the kitchen and turn, finding myself in the living room. A really skinny boy with a head of red hair is sitting in a wheelchair, a bowl of yoghurt in his lap, and a puddle of yoghurt on the floor.

I slowly walk towards him.

Claire has a brother?

I look at the wheelchair and the way the brother – who looks like he should be in middle school, really – plays with his food, and something hits me. Oh.

The boy finally looks up at me, gives me a lopsided grin, and presses something on his wheelchair. "Hello, I am Todd," a computerized voice says.

"Hey, Todd, what's up?" I ask. More yoghurt plops on the floor, along with some egg. "Yeah, apparently not the yoghurt, eh?" I look at the yoghurt on the ground. Like, should I clean it up or something? The floor was a nice hardwood, but some of the purple yoghurt had gotten onto the plain white rug. "Okay, dude, so you don't like yoghurt? Yeah, me neither. It's like, a warm, healthy ice-cream, which is the worst invention I've ever heard of. Whoever buys it is mental." There's a pause. "I mean, besides whoever bought that yoghurt. I'm not really in a position to say."

Todd looks up at me. I kneel down to his level.

"So, uh, do you like plane or trains better?" I ask him. "Because, you know, I always thought it was more fun to imagine that food was a train. You know, the train goes into the tunnel, um, choo choo."

Todd stares at me.

I nod. "Yeah, planes work too. The plane is going into the err- a plane tunnel, zoom." Todd laughs and puts a big spoonful of yoghurt into his mouth. "Right. Zoom." I give Todd a thumbs up. Todd tries to copy, but he can't hold only one finger up. I pat his hand. "We'll work on it."

"Uh, Derrick," Claire's voice says. I look up to see her head poking out of the kitchen door. Her blonde hair is hanging past her shoulders, and she's wearing shoes Olivia had exclaimed about at our lunch table. "We should start our project." Her eyes look bigger than normal.

I stand up too quickly, and a bunch of blood leaves my head. I feel dizzy. "Right. Okay. Yeah." I shake my head and point to the purple stains on the rug. "Um, there's yoghurt on the floor."

She rolls her eyes. "I can see that, Derrick. Our housekeeper will clean it up." Her eyes rest on Todd, and her expression softens.

Before she can like, insult me or something, I quickly question, "Is that why you were so mad when I showed up here?"

She walks into the kitchen and I follow her. "Well, it could've been the fact that you showed up totally unexpected, and also that I find you to be really, really irritating to be around," she mutters, although her usual punch isn't in her voice. I stare, waiting for her to continue. She gets a cup of yoghurt out. I look at it, and press my lips together, trying not to smile. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I have more to say."

"tell us a story

i know you're not boring"

I raise an eyebrow. "Don't you?"

She spins around. "I don't." Her eyes literally get a shade darker. I hold her gaze. This is great – I'm getting to know Claire Lyons, the girl behind the perfection. "I'm not ashamed of Todd."

"Then why don't you ever invite anyone over? Why don't you even talk to anyone besides Massie?"

Claire clenches her arm and takes a deep breath. "Because people expect me to be. Or they would, if they knew."

"And you always want to please everybody," I understand, nodding slowly. "Okay."

"It's not as simple as that," she snaps. "It's not even in the same zip code as simple as that." She releases her arm. "I mean, even my own fucking parents – Todd's own fucking parents – they try to hide him! He can technically go to middle school, did you know? They have the right programs, but it's all about what people will say when they find out, Oh, the Lyons have a disabled kid, how fucking scandalous - and slowly Todd's being pushed farther and farther into the background and pretty soon he'll stop showing up in family portraits and he'll be forgotten in Christmas cards and -" suddenly, she stops talking, looking at the cup in her hand. "I hate blueberry."

She turns around and tosses the unopened yoghurt in the trash, then pushes past me. "We can use my dad's upstairs study," she mumbles, going up the stairs.

"come on listen to what i say

i've got some secrets that'll make you stay"

A/N: um, yeah. so, review please? i dunno. maybe this chapter was way out of my "deep, dramatic" writing range. sorry if i keep like, filling up your inbox with updates. i'm trying to finish this summer ends - which is a long way away i know - but if i suddenly stop writing, i'll never get back into it [i just work that way.]

BETHERE4U, Lilly, amber311, and thats the way4: thank you for your reviews.

and lyrics are from the strokes.