A/N: This actually wasn't supposed to take up an entire chapter. It was supposed to be the BEGINNING of the next chapter, and then I was going to move on into their first date without any muss or fuss. But . . . this took longer than I thought. Apparently everything needed to be wrapped up well, and I'm all right with that.

This is another one of those plot-move-alongers, but that's all right, because it ends this chapter-esque cycle of "Ned and Sally Finally Pulling Their Heads Out of Their Butts and Realizing They Like Each Other." Now we can move on to the one-shot-like style I had earlier in the series, starting with a few "Firsts."

Whatever. Enough rambling. Into the closer!

"So what now?"

"What do you mean?" Sally asked. She was sitting cross-legged on the grass, braiding the purple-pink strands of a weeping willow that hung inches above the ground in front of her. Ned was leaning against the trunk of the tree several feet away, watching her with a dazed smile. Every few minutes or so she'd glance back at him, blush, and grin stupidly before turning back around.

"I mean, we have to . . . I don't know, do something now, right?"

Sally let the strands of tree she'd been holding slip through her fingers, turning back around to face him. "Like what?"

"I don't know," he said with a shrug. Not wanting to get up, he scooted over to her on his butt to her, his long limbs comically askew. When he reached her, he picked up the pieces of the braids again and tried to weave them the way Sally had. "Like . . . isn't this the part where I ask you out to dinner or something?"

She rolled her eyes. "You don't have to do that. We've been friends since we were kids. I know I like you already."

"But isn't it tradition to do something?"

"Like I give a darn about tradition."

"But I do!" The emphatic tone in his voice startled her. He was still holding the pathetic braid, but he was one-hundred-percent focused on her. "I want to do this right," he said, a little embarrassed now that she was looking directly at him, "whatever that means."

Sally smiled and took the braid out of his hand. "All right, then. What do we do first?" When he didn't do anything more than shrug, she leaned in closer and said out of the corner of her mouth, "This is the part where you ask me out to dinner or something." She winked and added, "Or so I've heard."

He nodded, drawing himself up to full height and puffing his chest out. "Sally," he boomed, and she had to bite back a giggle, "would you like to go on a date with me?"

She held out the hand that wasn't still holding the tree-braid and he took it. "I would love to."

"Great!" He squeezed her hand and dropped it. "Tomorrow night?"

"Hmm. . . ." She tapped her chin and shot him a sideways glance. "I suppose that is acceptable. I'll have to sacrifice some extremely important goings-on for this, I hope you know." Those goings-on were only watching TV with Sarah and gossiping, but she'd been caught up in the moment and was feeling theatrical. Besides, she had to tease him a little.

"Thank you." Again Ned's tone of voice surprised her - there was an undeniable sincerity in his words this time. She grinned and shifted closer to him.

"The pleasure's all mine."

Ned returned home just as the clock was striking twelve-thirty. He was grateful that he didn't have a curfew, so no one would jump down his throat for being late.

"A-hem." He turned around to see Mimi standing behind him with her arms crossed and her glasses pushed down so she could glare at him over them. Years of arguments had shown that her glare-over-glasses look was one of her most intimidating, one that Ned could never match due to his near-perfect vision.

"Mom and Dad are out," she said, keeping her face blank.

"Okay." There was a pit of dread forming in Ned's stomach, but he wasn't quite sure what it meant yet. However, if Mimi's thunderous expression was any indication, he was going to find out soon enough.

"I had a date tonight."

An idea was definitely forming in his mind. "Really? How was it?" he asked, his voice almost squeaking.

"I didn't go. I had to call and tell him that my brother was supposed to baby-sit our siblings, but he went AWOL and I had to make sure they didn't kill someone."

"Ah." Ned vaguely remembered making that promise to watch them, but due to everything that had happened that night he'd forgotten.

"So," Mimi continued, still keeping her voice soft, "instead of watching 'Whoday the 13th,' which you know I've been dying to see ever since it came out -"

He did. She'd been talking about it almost nonstop since she'd seen the movie poster. In fact, she'd begged him several times to go with her, even though she knew it was useless; though she loved scary movies, he couldn't stand them.

"- and enjoying a great evening with Ryan Holly, who actually seems like a really nice guy, I got to watch Jonathan and Samantha kill each other over what we were going to watch on TV, wrestle with Hannah to keep her from eating a lamp plug, and bathe Matty, and you know how hard that is." She put her hands on her hips, fixing him with her harshest look yet, mostly because it was mixed with a little hurt that he would do this to her. "So you'd better have a really good reason for not showing up. And since Jamie's been calling about every hour or so, I can assume that you weren't out with her. Also, whenever I pick up, she wants to talk to me for like twenty minutes! I have to get Rick to answer the phone!"

Crap. He'd forgotten all about Jamie. "Oh. . . ."

"'Oh'?" Mimi repeated. "What does that mean?"

Ned sighed, running a hand through his hair and making it stick up in every direction. "I have to call her."

"Oh, really? And what's so important that you have to go call your girlfriend while I'm still yelling at you?" He was silent for a moment, and Mimi's irritation turned to concern - though she did her best to conceal it, merely pursing her lips and crossing her arms. When almost an entire minute had gone by and he still hadn't said anything, Mimi rolled her eyes and turned to go. "Fine, whatever. I'm just your twin, you don't have a responsibility to me or anythi -"

"Mimi . . . have you ever broken up with anyone?"

She froze, then whirled around and gave Ned only a glance before focusing all her attention on the opposite wall. "Why?" she asked, keeping her voice as frosty as possible.

"Because I have to dump Jamie."

She'd seen that coming, she had to admit, but it was still enough to throw off her guard. She dropped the huffy attitude and looked at him straight-on (without wanting to kill him, anyway) for the first time since he'd walked in. "Oh. Why?"

He laughed. "There's a complicated story."

"Sally?"

"All right, I guess it's not so complicated. . . ."

Mimi smirked. "Nah, I'm just brilliant," she said with a grin.

"So what do I -"

BrrrIIING! The sound made both of them freeze, their expressions mirror images of shock. BrrrIIING!

"That'll be her," Mimi said.

"What do I do? What do I do?" Ned began pacing up and down the front hall at an alarming speed. Back, forth, back, forth, back, forth. "What do I do?"

BrrrIIING!

"What do I do?"

"You can't dump her over the phone."

BrrrIIING!

Ned stopped his trek around the foyer, giving her a weird look. "Why not?"

"Because it's rude!" Mimi threw her hands up into the air. "Are all boys this clueless?"

BrrrrIIING!

"So what do I do?"

"Ask her to go out tomorrow and talk about something." Ned reached for the phone, which was now on its sixth BrrrIIING!, but she caught his wrist before he could pick it up. "But don't sound all doom-and-gloom - you want her to sleep tonight, don't you?"

"WILL SOMEBODY ANSWER THAT ALREADY?" Ned and Mimi, who were the only ones still awake, looked up to see about ten of their siblings on the second-floor landing, glaring down at them through bleary eyes and bed-hair.

Ned looked down at the little orange phone and gulped. He reached down and picked it up. BrrrII - "Hello?"

"Ned! It's me, Jamie."

"Jamie? What're you still doing up?" He tried his best to sound like he'd been asleep, hoping that would get her off the phone more quickly.

"I wanted to say goodnight to you . . . like I always do." Her voice was softer than he'd ever heard it before, and Ned wondered if she'd somehow already heard. "Did I wake you up?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I came home and went to bed. Without seeing anyone. Why? Did you call?" Mimi rolled her eyes at him and mouthed, Liar. He stuck his tongue out at her and waited, twirling the phone cord around one finger. He tugged too hard and the entire thing flew off the table and across the room, missing Mimi's head by an inch and making a terrible racket. Ned was still holding the other part of the phone to his ear, and the cord acted like a bungee and sent the radio flying back at him, smacking him dead-on in the stomach.

He collapsed to his knees, dropping the phone. Mimi scampered over, picked it up, and said, "Ned's having difficulties with the phone. Please stand by" before setting it down on the table — ignoring the tinny sound of, "Mimi? Hi! How are you?" — and kneeling down next to him. When he thought he could breathe again, she handed it back to him with a curt "All better now" to Jamie.

"Ned?" Jamie sounded both amused and worried. "What happened?"

"The phone took a little trip. But it's all good now. So . . . what's up?"

"I wanted to reach you when you got home from hanging out with Sally." There was a pause. "Did you guys have fun?"

"Well . . . yeah, I guess." Mimi snorted, making him nearly drop the phone in surprise. When he met her gaze again, she made kissing faces at him. He shoved her into the kitchen and closed the door, hoping the muffled protests weren't transferred over the phone. "We just hung out."

There was a soft click! - something only years of living with his siblings could have trained his ears for - and he knew Mimi was on the line, too. Jamie, unaware of their eavesdropper, said, "Okay. That's good. Do you want to hang out tomorrow, maybe? In the morning or something?"

"Yeah, that sounds great. I'll meet you in the park tomorrow at nine-thirty or so?"

"Good." There was another pause, longer this time. Ned was starting to wonder if she'd accidentally hung up when she said, "I love you."

His mouth dropped open. Neither of them had said that to each other (and Ned knew he'd never particularly wanted to, though he liked her well enough), and he had no idea how to respond. "Uh, thanks, Jamie. That's . . . uh, good. Bye." With that, he dropped the phone into its cradle like it was poisonous.

Mimi came back into the hallway, shaking her head. "She's gonna be awake all night, that's for sure."

Before he went to sleep, he made a quick call to Sally. Luckily she was still awake, and he hadn't woken up the rest of the house. They talked briefly, then he collapsed on his bed, fully clothed, and didn't move until ten the next day.

"Great, great, great," Ned muttered, drawing his coat tighter around him and pulling the hood up. Not only was he almost an hour late to see Jamie, but it was raining. Which meant that he'd made her wait for a half hour in a downpour. And, of course, she was waiting for so long to be dumped for a girl she quite obviously hated. And she probably wouldn't be dumped very well, since Ned had slept through the morning he'd planned on spending preparing for this very dumping.

Today was going to suck.

Jamie was huddled on a bench, her long blue hair pulled back and her eyes scanning the otherwise-empty park. She hadn't dressed for the rain - it must have started moments after she'd arrived. She was wearing a bright pink sundress with a pink flower in her hair. She looked sweet and pretty, and part of Ned's mind started wondering if this was really the best idea. Then he thought of Sally, with her orange eyes and fur. If she ever wore pink, it'd be the most hideous thing ever; Sarah might kill her. Sally would never think to put flowers in her hair or, well, try to look nice unless it was for something fancy. She was a lot more practical than Jamie, and less silly. But still, Sally was also less sweet and cute.

It didn't matter how silly or pretty Jamie was, though. It was the difference between "like" and "love," and there would never really be a contest.

"Hey, Jamie."

She looked up, and her eyes lit up, a smile spreading across her face. It hurt him more than he'd expected to see it. She stood, a surprisingly elegant move - how had he never noticed how graceful she was? - and smoothed out her dress. "Hi! How's your sister? Are you okay? Nothing bad happened to you, right? I was starting to get worried . . ."

"No. Sorry, Jame. I just overslept."

"That's okay." Normally she would have slipped her hand in his, or sidled up to him and given him a kiss, but instead she just tightened her ponytail, keeping her eyes glued to the ground. Her smile had grown tense and nervous. "So . . . should we go somewhere . . . drier?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Uh, where?"

She shrugged and giggled. They stood there, the heavy rain replaced by drizzle and mist. This was more awkward even than their first date, and Ned realized that she knew. She had to know. How could anything possibly be this uncomfortable if she didn't know?

"You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"

Yep. She knew. Part of him - the mean, selfish part - couldn't help but be relieved. Maybe it could be over quickly.

"I guess I am."

"You guess? You ought to be pretty sure, because I'm not going to be dumped for a 'maybe.'" She sounded remarkably calm, her eyes now focused on his, her mouth not trembling. It wasn't anything like he'd expected, and he felt an almost staggering wave of relief before he noticed how bloodshot her eyes were, and how deep the shadows under them were.

She had to have been crying almost all night to look that bad.

"I'm sure," he said.

"Well then that's that." To her credit, she didn't start crying, though her eyes got a little misty. Though that might have actually been the mist.

"Yeah." Ned wished desperately that he had something to say that wasn't monosyllabic, but he seemed to have used up his store of words earlier in the week. "I'm sorry."

She smiled at him. It was a weak smile at best, but it was still better than nothing. "Me too." Then she coughed and averted her eyes. When she looked back, she kept her gaze on his nose. "But it's just high school, right? Nothing ever lasts except boredom. And people are still trying to figure themselves out and what they like . . . It's all a confused mess, huh?"

He wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that last bit, but he knew he'd been confused for the last few weeks. "Right." To his credit, he didn't start crying. "Thank you for -"

Her eyes hardened. "For not freaking out? I guess I've grown up a little." Her lips thinned until they were almost invisible. "Not enough, maybe, but a little."

"For being a great friend," Ned finished, and she blinked and looked down, shamefaced.

"I'm sorry. I wanted this to be mature. That way we could both go off into the world better people and all that." She knelt down, fumbling for her bag, which was now soaking wet. "I should go."

"I'm -"

"Don't say it." She stood, clutching the bag to her chest, and pecked him on the cheek. "This is better." With that, she turned and disappeared into the mist. It was an exit fit for the stage; Sarah would have been impressed.

He sank down onto the bench, putting his head in his hands. That selfish part of him was wondering if maybe he hadn't made the wrong decision. Sarah was right: whatever he and Jamie had had, it was over. And maybe that wasn't a good thing.

"Ned?" He looked up, half-expecting to see Jamie come to beg, half-expecting to see Sarah come to dispense wisdom - wasn't that usually when she showed up? Instead he saw Sally, the one person he ought to have been expecting, since he'd asked her to come. "I'm not too early, right? Jamie's come and gone?"

He nodded, and she sat down next to him. He thought she was going to ask him about it, but she only put an arm around him, laying her head on his shoulder. "Breaking up sucks, huh?" she mumbled against his arm after a few minutes.

"It really does."

"Regret it yet?"

He nudged her off his shoulder and met her eyes. "Not for a second."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on."

"What? I didn't!"

"Liar." She crossed her arms, straightening enough that she could look down at him over her nose.

He quailed under the gaze. "Okay, maybe for half a second. Three-quarters at most."

Sally climbed to her feet, shaking her head and pulling him up. "You're a little wet," she said, looking him up and down.

He glanced at himself; the rain had stopped, and the mist was just beginning to fade, but water was dripping off his fur and forming a not-tiny puddle around his feet. "Rain'll do that to you."

She shoved him toward the entrance of the park. "Go home and get dry. I hear you have a date, and she won't want you to look like a drowned rat. Unless you're planning on getting sick and standing her up, in which case she might hurt you."

He grinned at her. "I wouldn't miss this date if my head fell off."

She wrinkled her nose. "That'd be unpleasant. Try to keep your head attached, and if it falls off, get one of your sisters to sew or staple it back on - don't do it yourself! And be at my house at seven." She turned and started walking in the opposite direction, toward her house. "I have a lot of work to do."

He watched her go, feeling strangely warm and fuzzy despite the rain and that morning's unpleasantness. Then he shook his arms, watching the water fly off of them in buckets. "So do I."

A/N: Yeah, this entire chapter's just very awkward. And it's basically four-and-a-half pages of dialogue. But still, I think it's necessary, if not exactly artful, and the next chapter promises to be a lot of fun. Are you ready for what will be either the best or the worst date ever? You better be!

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it, and apologies for any unhappiness, injury, or death caused by the reading of any of my writing. We are not responsible for any hospital bills related, though, and don't try to sue.