Peppermint Patty's face formed a smirk when she answered the Browns' door.

"Oh, the music lovers are here — and just in time too," she added, grabbing Schroeder's wrist. "Me and Chuck were talking about big, important baseball plans, and we need our assistant coach!"

"I noticed you said 'our,'" Schroeder pointed out as he allowed her to drag him toward the living room.

Marcie lingered to close the door, taking a few breaths, then forced a polite look of neutrality, following after her friends. Peppermint Patty steered Schroeder to the couch, swinging him onto the seat closest to Charles.

"Okay, Schroeder, tell Chuck about that awesome catch Amy Walters did at practice today."

Schroeder rubbed his side where he had landed against the armrest. "Have you spent the whole afternoon here, Patty?"

"Well, I went down to the deli earlier to get us all some cold cuts," Peppermint Patty chirped. "We had a pretty good lunch."

"Though Snoopy ate most of them," Charles pointed out.

"And after I tried to wrestle the plate away from that dog, I had to take a shower and do laundry," Patty laughed. "Sally was nice enough to lend me her clothes while I waited. Anyway, give Chuck here the rundown of what you saw at practice — unless you'd rather tell us about the great time you guys had at the concert," she added, with a sly look at Marcie.

"Not the time, Sir," Marcie muttered.

Fortunately, Schroeder did not seem to notice Patty's insinuations. He sat up, eyes gleaming, while Peppermint Patty sashayed back over to Marcie.

"Charlie Brown, you should have heard the piano!" Schroeder beamed. "The notes were so clear, and it so wonderfully allowed the pianist to convey the sentiments behind Beethoven's works, I felt. If I had to teach musical theory, that's the type of piano I'd want in my arsenal."

"That good, huh?" returned Charles with the calm manner of someone used to all of Schroeder's idiosyncrasies. He had known Schroeder since he was a baby and was probably the closest thing the pianist had to an older brother.

"I would hardly be surprised if angels played on such instruments," Schroeder declared. His normally reserved face shone. "I think I'm in love!"

Peppermint Patty's eyes gleamed. "Really?"

She shot Marcie a knowing grin, nodding encouragingly.

"Please don't embarrass me, Sir," Marcie charged under her breath.

Charles, meanwhile, shrugged. "I prefer redheads myself, Schroeder, but—"

"You know perfectly well what I meant," his friend clipped.

Charles chuckled. "Just messing with ya, pal. I know where your preferences really lie."

He made a vague gesture, as if pointing to something in the distance which only he and Schroeder could see. Schroeder promptly grabbed the nearby couch cushion and held it up.

"Don't think I won't use this."

"Comment retracted."

As Schroeder lowered the cushion, Peppermint Patty jumped on the momentary silence to ask, "Soooo, Schroeder, will you be going to another concert with Marcie soon?"

"For volunteer work," Marcie stressed, but she might have just as well been talking to a brick wall.

"I wouldn't mind," Schroeder answered, brightening again. "I could even weather through Peter and the Wolf if they did the piano-solo version."

"You really got a one-track mind, Schroeder," Charles commented, shaking his head.

"Oh, I think Schroeder just knows what he likes," Peppermint Patty said in a sing-song voice. "Right, Marcie?"

"Weren't you guys going to talk about baseball?" Marcie asked flatly.

Charles nodded. "Oh, yeah. Now, Patty's told me about Amy and that awesome catch. What are your thoughts, Schroeder?"

Schroeder rested his arms against his knees, his expression altering to a more subdued but still engaged smile. Few things could yank him from the thrall of ethereal music like the mention of baseball.

"Well, see, Little Jerry hit this fly ball, and…"

As Schroeder went into a detailed play-by-play, Peppermint Patty grinned and nudged Marcie.

"Why don't you go over and sit next to Schroeder?" she whispered.

"Speaking of one-track minds…" Marcie muttered.

Patty did not take the hint. "C'mon, girl! The night is still young!"

"It's only four-fifty—"

A quick shove in the direction of the couch cut Marcie off, and she nearly stumbled. Deciding it would be better to humor Peppermint Patty than to land flat on her face or get herself into a more embarrassing situation, Marcie stiffly crossed over to the sofa, but she made a point of sitting as far away from Schroeder as she could. Peppermint Patty meanwhile strolled over to Charles's recliner, giving Marcie encouraging nods, and she took a seat on the armrest. Charles slipped his good arm up, giving her more room — and then wrapped it around her waist, not at all embarrassed.

Marcie's stomach dropped.


They stayed for an hour or two, but for Marcie it seemed like a dull, monotonous blur. Finally, she pushed herself to her feet, murmuring that she ought to start heading home, and Schroeder rose as well, saying he still needed to get some piano practice done that evening. Peppermint Patty pounced on the opening.

"Maybe you could give Marcie a ride, Schroeder?" she suggested sweetly. "That way Marcie doesn't have to be out in the dark before she reaches home?"

"Sure, if she wants," he said cheerfully.

Marcie flashed a noncommittal smile. She did not mind getting a ride, but she did not want Peppermint Patty to misread her intentions even further.

"Stay safe, Marcie," Charles said with a friendly wave.

"Thanks," she replied as companionably as she could. "Get plenty of rest now."

This time she did not give him a goodbye kiss but followed Schroeder out of the house.

The beginnings of early-spring twilight had already brought a drop in temperature, not unpleasant. Marcie slipped her hands into her pockets, feeling almost on autopilot. At the edge of the front walk, Schroeder stopped and turned, looking concerned.

"I hope I don't sound too inquisitive, Marcie," he said slowly, "but are you okay? You seem pretty down."

She faked a smile. "Maybe I'm just tired."

He regarded her, thinning his lips. "You know, people think that me keeping my eyes on piano keys all day means I don't see things, but I pick up on more than they give me credit for."

"Like what?"

"For starters, some people have come to lean on my piano and talk about their problems as though it was Lucy's old psychiatry booth," he remarked, "so I hear enough to stay in the loop, even with my AP classes. I also know a lot about Charlie Brown, since he comes by pretty often to vent ever since Lucy's social calendar filled up too much for her to give him advice every day. Plus I tend to be a good judge of people."

"And?"

"And I happened to notice that you started getting sad around the time Charlie Brown and Peppermint Patty started getting cozy together."

Marcie paled. Wordlessly, she stepped forward, maneuvering around him onto the sidewalk — but then she stopped, blinking rapidly.

"Then… as his friend... you already know that he likes her."

"He does," he answered quietly.

"For how long?"

"Only fairly recently," Schroeder returned. "For the longest time, he just saw her as a friend that he had conflicting feelings towards. The car accident kind of helped him put things into perspective."

Marcie closed her eyes, jerking a nod. "And Patty's been sweet on him for years."

"So I've heard."

She sucked in a long, shaking breath, then squared her shoulders.

"Then I want them to be happy together," she said in a low voice. "If that's their path… I want them to be happy."

She took another deep breath and raised her head, blinking up at the changing sky. Schroeder shifted beside her, rubbing his neck.

"I know I'm not the best guy to give advice on this stuff," he said, "but when I need a pick-me-up, Brahms makes me glad I'm alive."

Marcie glanced at him. "Not Beethoven?"

He laid a hand on his chest, tilting his head up. "I happen to have a variegated taste in music."

She smiled, briefly, then sighed. "Thanks, Schroeder, but some things can't be cured by only listening to music."

He turned his head away. "Then I got nothing that can help, I guess."

She reached for his arm, shaking her head. "You helped. Honest."

His lips formed an unsure smile. After a hesitant pause, he patted her hand. "I'm glad."

As they stood there, a car rolled slowly past them, and it swung close to the curb, parking two doors down at the Van Pelts' house. To Marcie's surprise, the student-body vice-president, Joey Walters (older brother of the fly-ball-catching Amy Walters on Charles's team), jumped out of the driver's side. He was a fit type, with a swimmer's build, and closely shaved brown hair. He jogged to the other door and opened it, and Lucy emerged, now in a cute blue sundress and with her black hair more styled than earlier. She glanced toward Marcie and Schroeder with a curious expression and gave a quick wave before Joey walked her to the front stoop. Lucy paused on the top step, fishing in her purse for her keys.

"Is that Lucy?"

Marcie jolted, whirling around. Peppermint Patty had stuck her head out of the living-room window to peer down the street. Charles said something, and Patty promptly cupped her hands to her mouth.

"Hey, Lucille!" she shouted. "Chuck needs to talk to you! Can you come over for a few minutes?"

Jumping, Lucy spun with a gasp, but she quickly recovered.

"Is this a social visit, or a psychiatric one?" she called back.

Peppermint Patty repeated the question to Charles, then turned back. "He said he'll let you know!"

"Then he better have five cents ready," Lucy answered.

She then said something to Joey, who nodded. He leaned forward, puckering, but she shook her head, tapping her cheek. He obliged her, leaving a quick but affectionate peck, and Lucy turned smartly, striding across the lawn to the sidewalk while Joey returned to his car and drove away.

As Lucy reached them, she gave Schroeder and Marcie an inquisitive sweep. "Have you guys been together all this time?"

"That's what friends do," Marcie answered mildly.

Lucy broke into a little laugh.

"Well, I'm glad someone's around to make sure Schroeder isn't camped by that piano all day," she declared airily, turning to poke the boy in the shoulder.

Schroeder rolled his eyes and asked, "Don't you have to get ready for your dinner date?"

"Oh, Eric canceled when I called to confirm back at the roller rink," Lucy replied brightly. "At least that gives me a chance to get my beauty sleep before I go see Leonard for our breakfast date tomorrow."

Schroeder stared at her, but he said nothing as she strolled the rest of the way to the Browns' house. She let herself in without knocking, and when the door closed, Schroeder turned back to Marcie and smiled.

"Well, let's see if Dad's still home with the car."

They crossed the street, heading a little ways toward his house. At the fence, however, Schroeder paused.

"Remember when you said earlier that you associate 'Vesti la giubba' with Charlie Brown? That reminded me of an old project of mine that I've dabbled with over the years."

"A musical project?"

"What else?" he chortled. "If you're not in a hurry to get home, would you be interested in listening to a few of my original compositions before you head out? I'd enjoy getting your thoughts."

Marcie considered it, then nodded. Right then, she did not like the idea of just going home and being alone, and Schroeder had proved already he was good company. ("And a good friend," she said to herself as he led her inside.)