Grandma Van Pelt needed Lucy's help to run errands in town, so she would take the car to the shopping district. After the Van Pelt siblings and Schroeder exited the community center, Grandma gave the boys the choice between accompanying her or walking home. The brothers unanimously decided to go on foot.

"There's only so much 'free labor' a kid can stand for one afternoon," Rerun said under his breath when he was out of his grandmother's earshot.

Although he was not in the mood for any heavy lifting or endless hours of scouring for bargains, Schroeder considered — genuinely considered — going to help out, but Lucy shook her head at his prolonged silence.

"After we pick up a few more decorations, Grandma wants to start looking for matching dresses for the luncheon. I don't think you really want to hang around while we try on a bunch of outfits — though I'd make a pretty good model, don't you think?" she added. She straightened her shoulders, placing one hand on her hip, and did a little strut down the sidewalk. "I could totally be one of those girls who parade outfits at those upscale clothing stores for middle-aged socialites."

She looked over her shoulder at Schroeder and winked.

He was used to her playful attempts to fish for compliments. Instead of his usual eye roll or a quip about how she should not quit her day job, however, this time he found himself experiencing a strange jolt at that little wink, one that was not entirely unpleasant.

"They could hire worse, I suppose," he managed to say in an odd voice.

"You're such a charmer." She pretended to swoon before she snapped her fingers, remembering something. "By the way, I'll have to give you a rain check for that promised root beer, but we'll definitely go out this weekend, if not sooner. Okay, sweetie?"

He nodded silently, and she blew him a kiss from the tips of two fingers before she sauntered over to the passenger side of her grandmother's station wagon.

The walk back to their neighborhood was mostly peaceful. Linus made small talk about last week's football scores, and Rerun asked the older boys for advice regarding his science project, but neither brother tried to fill the silence with constant chatter, both comfortable with Schroeder being in their company as if he were a cousin.

When they reached the Van Pelts' house, Linus, instead of saying goodbye to Schroeder, asked, "Hey, want an ice-cream bar? Grandma bought a whole box yesterday."

Schroeder accepted and followed his friend inside. Rerun had already wandered off to his room to work on his science project, determined to get a lot done before his favorite TV program came on. Linus and Schroeder went into the kitchen, and the former hunted in the freezer for the treat, soon tossing one to Schroeder. They both leaned against the counter, and Linus dug in, relishing each bite. Schroeder picked at his, but he was obliged to quicken his pace once the melting cream dribbled down his hand.

"You're in a brown study today," Linus observed. "What's up?"

Schroeder shrugged, keeping his face expressionless. "Oh, this and that."

His friend nodded, regarding him. "It must be awfully exciting to get a job as a professional musician, huh?"

"Oh, yes. Lucy has a way of picking out good gigs for me."

"You two sure make a great team," Linus said lightly. "I'm surprised Lucy never tried to be your agent and own fifteen percent of you, like she did when Charlie Brown did that spelling bee."

Schroeder smirked slightly. "What makes you think she didn't?"

"Touché." Linus smiled and returned to his ice-cream bar.

Schroeder took a few more bites from his own, deliberating, before he decided to try a pretty brave or pretty dumb move — he was still deciding which it was.

"Hey, Linus?"

"Hmm?"

"Adam and Lucy," he said slowly, "are they close?"

"Maybe a little," Linus said with a mild shrug. "Sometimes Grandma takes us to have lunch with his mom, and Lucy hangs out with him then."

"Ah." He rubbed his chin. "She never mentioned him before."

"Amazingly, Lucy learned how to have a life outside of you." Linus gave a slight chuckle. "I just knew she'd manage it eventually."

He looked over at Schroeder with a smile, and his eyebrows suddenly shot up.

"Hey, that was just a joke, not a jab against you or anything."

"What?" Schroeder quickly wiped his face free of emotion. "Oh, I realized that. I was just thinking."

"I see."

Linus slowly rotated the wooden stick, inspecting it for melting drops of cream among the remaining flakes of chocolate. Four more bites, and the stick was clean. Linus took aim and tossed it like a dart into the kitchen trash can. Sliding his hands into his pocket, he pivoted to look back at Schroeder, who was still battling with the trickles of ice cream spilling onto his hand.

"If it makes you feel better," Linus said, "I don't think Lucy and Adam are that close. You probably still have a pretty good chance with her."

Schroeder nearly dropped the ice-cream bar, and he had to grab it with his other hand to avoid splattering it onto Mrs. Van Pelt's clean kitchen floor, but now both his hands were messy. Linus quickly fetched a plate for him to rest the remaining globs on, and Schroeder hurried to the sink to avoid dripping. Linus next offered him the hand towel hanging on the oven handle, and Schroeder patted his hands dry longer than he needed to, trying to formulate a decent reply to Linus's embarrassing declaration.

"Out of curiosity," he said at last, "does every Van Pelt sign a contract promising that they will be as blunt as possible?"

"I prefer to think of us as being a forthright bunch," Linus replied, leaning against the counter. He gave Schroeder an unperturbed, but compassionate, smile. "So, my deductions were right then?"

Schroeder considered excusing himself and leaving right then. He was not the type to talk about such things, even from an apathetic standpoint. As a kid, he had been averse to anything he deemed mushy, and the advance into his teenage years had done nothing to reconcile him with sentimentality, beyond developing a greater appreciation for operas and novels crafted by better men than himself. He could stomach romance when it was confined to a record album with Mozart's arias, or in a darkened theater with phenomenal sopranos and baritones singing out in front of the footlights about their fictional desires and anguishes, or in a short story which he might read for English class. To indulge in it himself — to consider it for himself, when he had long ago devoted himself to bachelorhood as a safeguard against anything that would detract from his musical career — was far too beyond his comfort zone.

Yet Linus's calm, understanding gaze seemed to bid some type of response to the simple question, and the stretching, awkward silence seemed to be a response in and of itself.

"I don't know," Schroeder finally admitted, sliding one hand into his blond hair. "Maybe it's nothing. For all I know, this could be from a vitamin deficiency — or stress — or not enough Beethoven."

"Didn't seem like nothing at the community center," Linus remarked. "I've never seen you try to cut in on a couple before — or voluntarily try to dance with my sister, for that matter."

"Well, that was just— I mean, at the time, I only meant to—" He stopped, unable to finish, and to his chagrin, he could feel heat flood into his face. He twisted away, drawing in a long breath. "Do you think she noticed?"

"If Lucy put two and two together, she probably would have brought it up before we left the center."

"Good point," Schroeder sighed, gazing up at the ceiling.

He could just imagine Lucy striding right up to him in her matter-of-fact way — or perhaps she would twirl and hum, wearing a gloating smile — and ask him point blank, "Schroeder, do you finally like me?"

And what would he say to that? He was not completely sure what he was even experiencing right then or why it had come upon him at all. Those flashes of annoyance which he had been feeling the past two days could easily be dismissed as protectiveness for his closest female friend.

With Miles, Schroeder had not liked the flippant way he had talked about Lucy. With Philip, who had left a number of broken hearts in his wake, Schroeder could say he wanted to spare Lucy that kind of relationship drama. With Adam, well, Schroeder had not known the guy existed before today, so where did Adam get the nerve to be so comfortable around Lucy, when Lucy never once mentioned him to Schroeder, and why was Lucy so comfortable around some guy who she never once mentioned to Schroeder, when Lucy pretty much told Schroeder everything? And why had she been so quick to ask such a guy to dance, and why had she smiled so sweetly at him, and why had she allowed him hold her so close, when she could have just as easily allowed Schroeder to hold her, and could have smiled at him with that hint of sunshine that had taken Schroeder years to appreciate, but when he finally did, he…

With a groan, Schroeder buried his face. "She'll never let me live this down if she finds out, will she?"

"Does the thought of liking my sister distress you that much?"

"It's not that," Schroeder muttered through clenched teeth. "I'm just not ready to take a risk on something I haven't thought through. I was perfectly fine a few days ago. I could return to that state tomorrow."

"I can respect that you want to make sure," Linus conceded. "If you think what you're feeling is mere caprice, then you will know soon enough."

"How?"

"For starters, you won't feel bothered the next time you see Lucy dancing with Adam."

Schroeder frowned without meaning to. What Linus said was the truth, but Schroeder did not know which irritated him more: the idea of Lucy being with another guy or the fact that he, Schroeder, was actually annoyed by it.

With an agitated jerk, he grabbed one of the kitchen chairs and spun it around, sitting backwards with his arms on the backrest.

"If I do nothing, things may go back to normal," he considered flatly. "Lucy and I work best as friends. She comes over; I play my piano; she listens. We go to the candy kitchen after school and get a few ice-cream sodas; I talk about Beethoven; she listens. She drags me to one of her events and says I can choose the music for the record player; I pick Beethoven; we sit together and listen."

Linus stared at him. "...And are you more upset about losing Lucy to another guy, or just being inconvenienced by Lucy having her own life?"

"I didn't mean it that way," Schroeder protested, wincing at his poor wording now that Linus had pointed it out. "I make my own compromises for her. Do you know how often I've let her play her Neil Sedaka and Elvis Presley albums at my house? Or how many times she borrows a quarter from me to play a rock song on a jukebox when we're out together? I wouldn't let just anyone do that."

"True. For you, listening to anything modern (that's not Vince Guraldi) is one of your sincerest gestures of friendship."

"So, why should anything change?"

"Because you're both growing up, Schroeder," Linus answered. "Your dynamic with Lucy will change, whether she starts dating another boy or you. You can't confine her to spinsterhood just to make yourself comfortable."

Schroeder looked down at his arms.

"Well… I wouldn't want Lucy to be a spinster. I just… I mean, why can't we stay this way a little longer before we get to that bridge, if ever?"

Knitting his brow, Linus leaned back against the counter. "I am reminded of Proverbs 18:22: 'He who finds a wife finds a good thing, and obtains favor from the LORD.'"

"I'm not talking about a wife, Linus," Schroeder muttered. As if eight-year-old Lucy Van Pelt would not have been thrilled by this turn in the conversation…

"I'm well aware of that," Linus replied calmly. "I only bring it up to make a point. You'll notice the verse says, 'He who finds a wife,' not 'He who sits at his piano all day and waits for a girl to show up and hang out in his living room until he's ready to notice her.' Some Bible scholars would say the active voice of the verb implies that a man must take the initiative and pursue his future mate. If you sincerely feel that Lucy is the one for you, then you have to start pursuing her — otherwise, you need to let her go."

He fixed his steady-eyed gaze on Schroeder. Although he was a fairly easy-going and friendly guy, the note of warning was clear: don't disrespect my sister because you're too childish to take the next step.

Schroeder looked away. "For the sake of argument, say that I did start… 'pursuing' Lucy. Where would I even begin at this point?"

"Music?"

"I've never been good at love songs," he exhaled. "Remember when I tried to write that opera, and Lucy said my duet for the lovers sounded like it was written by a guy who had never been on a date?"

Linus tapped his chin, mulling. "You could write her a letter. Didn't you tell me once about Beethoven writing love letters to his 'Immortal Beloved'?"

Schroeder raised his hands and dropped them. "I'm not Beethoven though, try as I might."

"You could address it to Lucy's advice column," Linus offered. "Anonymously ask her for advice, then use her own advice to reveal your intentions. Lucy would enjoy that kind of gesture."

Schroeder made a face. "Close, but too corny."

"There's always the direct approach," Linus suggested. "Go up to her and say, 'Lucy, I've discovered I'm more interested in you than previously comprehended. Want to grab a soda after school and see if we're emotionally compatible for an enduring relationship?'"

Schroeder shot him a flat look. "And does that work on Lydia?"

"Lydia is an enigma," Linus answered, gazing out the window. "As far as girls go, my sister is infinitely easier to read — most of the time."

Schroeder scoffed softly. "Like getting advice from an unmarried marriage counselor…"

Linus blinked a few times, seeming to come back from whatever reverie he had been charting, and hooked his thumbs on his pockets.

"Well, maybe I don't have much experience with the high-school dating pool, but you're a smart guy, Schroeder. Whether you write Lucy a dazzling love song, or tell her point blank, I'm sure you'll think of something."

Schroeder propped his chin on his hand, furrowing his brow. "And what if I write the most dazzling symphony in the world, and Lucy says she doesn't feel the same?"

Linus gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm reminded of another gem from Proverbs: 'Open rebuke is better than secret love.' It's better to act and be rejected than to spend your life wondering what could have been."

"Easier said than done." Schroeder looked away. "Lucy and I… we work pretty good as we are. I don't want to ruin that."

"Then you're okay with her ending up with a guy like Adam then?"

"I didn't say that," Schroeder said softly.

"Well, you can't have it both ways," Linus reminded him, his eyes growing stern again. "You should decide what you really want, and then stick to that path."

Schroeder exhaled and pushed himself to his feet. "Guess I have some thinking to do then."

"You'll figure it out," Linus said, following him to the door.

In the middle of the night, he realized he was awake.

He gazed up at the dark ceiling, blinking slowly as he tried to recall the vivid images by which he had only a moment ago been surrounded.

Music notes — he often dreamt of them leaping up from his old toy piano while he played — and a steadily ticking metronome and Snoopy, at first. The aging but still lively dog initially scooped up the music notes and inspected them with a loupe, nodding to Schroeder as if to say that Beethoven suited the needs of the world-famous beagle jeweler. Then Snoopy withdrew a tennis racket from behind his back, suddenly treating the giant music staff which appeared above the piano like a net.

And then… Schroeder saw Lucy on the other side. She had a racket, but she was not interested in playing with Snoopy, and she let the black quarter notes bounce around her feet.

The metronome ticked, and Schroeder continued to play, expecting Lucy to come over and lounge against the toy piano like she had done when they were kids. She only watched him, and in his dream he knew she was waiting for him to leave the piano and come to her — but Schroeder had to practice, and so he ignored her silent request, stubbornly wanting her to come to him like before.

Then a few guys about Schroeder's age came into the living room, and they invited Lucy to go with them to a party. Somehow, Schroeder knew that if Lucy left with them, she would not come back to his living room, and he called to her to come join him at the piano, but she was not interested.

"I have better things waiting for me, Schroeder," she told him, turning away.

Schroeder got to his feet and tried to follow her and the boys, but when he got into the hallway, it was empty and distorted, and he could not seem to find the front door, but he kept trying, kept looking for the girl he knew he would never see again.

Now awake, Schroeder covered his face, letting out a long breath. Then he rolled over and sat up, waiting for the blood to return to his feet before he stood. Grabbing his bathrobe, he slipped out of his room. He followed the hall to the living room, minding the squeaky floorboards, and turned on a single lamp before taking his place at the piano, opening the cover. While his parents were both heavy sleepers, Schroeder took the precaution of applying the soft pedal.

He readied his hands, flexing his fingers over the ivory keys.

…And then he dropped them onto his lap instead, slumping. He gazed at his beloved instrument in a long silence before he leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

"She won't let me forget this if I ever told her," he said wryly.

And once again, the important question waved its hand like a student in a classroom, demanding him to acknowledge it.

Did he want Lucy to know?

She had seemed to move on — she had moved on. A confession at this stage could damage the rapport they had cultivated. She might laugh and rib him for noticing her only after she had lost interest — she might resent him for dredging up half-forgotten memories of his constant (and often hostile) rejections — she might try to "let him down gently" (while still being so straightforward that she blew any shadow of his hopes into smithereens) — or she might give him a chance, only for them to grow to resent each other and lose their friendship forever.

Whatever happened, Schroeder knew they would never be able to go back once he made a move. Why not just enjoy these doldrums of platonic friendship indefinitely?

Because other sailors are going to offer her a more interesting cruise through life, and you've given her no reason to wait for you to figure out what you want.

Schroeder closed his eyes, and he saw again the details from his dream — which were not that far from reality. Lucy was a fairly popular girl; kids respected her as an advice columnist; she was on the committee for every dance or major school event; she sometimes performed in school plays; almost every kid in school knew her face. Boys were bound to notice that she was pretty, as well as confident, winsome, and able to flirt. If Schroeder did not want a relationship with her, there were others ready to take his place.

But if he took this step with her, what then? How much would change?

…And if someone else won her heart, how much would change then?

For the sake of argument — or so he told himself — he tried to picture himself with Lucy, preparing himself for a worst case scenario

Con: He would not be able to focus on his piano as much because Lucy would expect him to do things she liked once in a while, because relationships involved compromises. (Pro: He already made compromises for her, and though he complained about modern music, he often enjoyed hanging out with her as long as he could tune out a blaring jukebox and focus on her engaging voice.)

Con: She would want them to talk more, because Lucy found emotional intimacy through conversations, and she might nag him if he did not respond. (Pro: Mostly she just wanted someone to listen to her, which he had been doing since he was three, but as her boyfriend he would do so voluntarily, and she did not mind a one-sided conversation as long as she knew he was paying attention.)

Con: She might expect certain privileges as a girlfriend, like holding hands or cuddling while they watch a film, and Schroeder did not know if he was ready for even that little bit of physical contact with Lucy Van Pelt. (Pro: She already took his arm in public, and he did not mind; in fact, he kind of liked having her so close to him, and that shampoo of hers could catch him off guard sometimes when she hugged him, even though he had refused to acknowledge it until right then.)

Con: Furthermore, he would be required to take her to every school dance and be her date to parties, with no way to opt out, short of being on life support in Ace Memorial Hospital. (Pro: He already went to dances and parties as one of the musicians, and Lucy hung out with him then, so what would be so wrong with them sharing a few dances when he was on his break?)

Con: …He honestly had no clue how to be a boyfriend, and this was one area where he could not look to Beethoven or Brahms as an example. (Pro: There were plenty of composers and musicians who had been happily married.)

Con: After all these years, she still did not like Beethoven that much. (Pro: But she liked him a little and, what's more, she supported Schroeder in his musical endeavors.)

Con: Whenever Schroeder had allowed himself to imagine his perfect girlfriend, he had pictured a blonde with an even temperament and a sense of humor who was a good cook and liked classical music. Lucy was not his preferred type. (Pro: But he liked Lucy just as she was — who needed a blonde when Lucy's raven locks could be resting on his shoulder? Who needed a passively amenable girl when Lucy made everything interesting with her impulsive nature and outspoken ways? Who needed a girl whose interests perfectly aligned with Schroeder's when Lucy forced him to adapt and thrive outside his comfort zone?)

Con: If they broke up, it could be messy. (Pro: If they stayed together, it would never be boring.)

Con: If he lost her friendship, he did not know what he would do afterwards.

…But if someone else got with her, then that someone else would take precedence in her life. Someone else would be making compromises to please her. Someone else would be having long conversations with her. Someone else would be cuddling with her at every opportunity. Someone else would be taking her to school dances and figuring out the awkward territory of being a boyfriend and spending time with her and walking her to her doorstep after a date and giving her a good-night kiss and taking her mind off Schroeder altogether.

And just like that, Schroeder had his answer.

Whatever the cost, he had to try.

He would rather lose Lucy after doing something than to lose her through cowardly inactivity.

"No guts, no glory," Schroeder told himself as he walked through the school halls toward Lucy's locker, hoping to catch her before first period.

He decided to ease into it, so as not to weird her out. She owed him a root beer, after all, so he could suggest they go grab it that afternoon since he did not have after-school band practices on Wednesdays. Then he might suggest that he would pay for that root beer, along with hers, and she would naturally make a joke about how he would be a poor debt collector for the mob or something to that effect. Then he might say something like, "Well, I'd be a poor date to let you pay after I invited you out." Then — if he knew Lucy, and he did — she would take note of the word "date" and ask him if he needed a refresher course on how to use the dictionary. And he would look her in the eye and say he was completely familiar with what the word meant, so did she want to grab that root beer with him?

And then… then…

"One step at a time, Schroeder," he calmed himself.

With a deep breath, he rounded the last corner — and quickened his pace once he spotted Miles, the clarinet player, leaning against the locker next to Lucy's and wearing a wide smile. Lucy's back was to Schroeder, but he could tell from her stance that she was merely tolerating Miles's presence while she sorted through her books.

"...and I've been having all sorts of dreams lately, Doc," Miles was saying as Schroeder threaded his way through the students. "Maybe you could help me out?"

"Sure, write a letter to the newspaper," Lucy answered, collecting her math book, "and I can try to answer your question for the next issue."

"I wouldn't want to waste paper on such a short dream," Miles grinned. "It involved me going up to a beautiful girl and asking if she wants to go to the drive-in this Friday night. And this beautiful girl says yes, and we have a great time, and she agrees to a second date, then a third. What do you think it means?"

"Off hand, it sounds like delusions of grandeur" — and she closed her locker.

"Oh, a date with me would be pretty grand," Miles replied, not seeming to catch onto her barb. "Do you think dreams ever come true, Doc?"

By that point, Schroeder had reached them, and he laid a hand on Lucy's shoulder, causing her to turn. Her expression of jaded disinterest at once morphed into a relieved (and gorgeous) smile.

"Schroeder! Just the man I was hoping to see." She quickly turned back to her unwanted companion. "Well, nice talking with you, Niles."

"Miles," he corrected.

"Sure, sure." She did not waste a second to break free, grabbing Schroeder's arm. Rather loudly, she said, "Schroeder, I was thinking we might go over the program for the mother-daughter luncheon. Can you play some works by female composers for the occasion, say, Alice Mary Smith?"

She tugged his arm, rattling off a few more names, and they both hurried down the hall without being too obvious. After they rounded a corner, Lucy released him and promptly snickered.

"You are a lifesaver, Schroeder," she declared with twinkling eyes. "Boy, that guy could talk a river upstream. I was this close to pulling a fire alarm or something, but he said he was your friend, so I was trying to be nice."

"We're both in the band," he clarified, and hearing her relieved laughter made some of his annoyance begin to melt away. "He's an okay guy, but he has trouble reading the room sometimes."

"So I gathered." Lucy shook her head. "Reminds me a bit of ol' Charlotte Braun, but at a lower volume."

"If he's bothering you, I'll have a talk with him," he offered firmly.

She patted his shoulder, shaking her head. "I appreciate you being protective, Schroeder, but I really don't need you to play big brother to me this time."

He slowed, feeling his stomach clench. "'Big brother'?"

"Well, 'big' in the sense that you January babies are going to be older than those of us born later in the year," she joked, adjusting her hold on her textbook.

Schroeder found himself grimacing. "I have never once considered myself your brother, Lucy."

"Then 'closest male friend who feels protective of his closest female friend,' if you prefer. In any case, you don't have to charge in on your white horse to save the fair princess from the unsavory ogre. The clarinet guy is not really my type."

She had given him a possible segue, if he could force himself to take it (and make it perfectly clear that he had no platonic feelings for her). Hoping his face looked calmer than he felt, he said, "Oh?"

"Nope!" she smiled. "I could never go out with a musician."

Schroeder stopped in his tracks. "Since when?"

Her eyes danced as she spun to face him.

"It's like Aunt Marian always said: 'Never fall in love with a musician.'" She tapped his nose. "It took me a while, but I learned my lesson, kiddo."

He stared at her, but she turned away and continued strolling along — without a clue of the crushing feeling in Schroeder's chest or of the hours of agony he had experienced the night before or of the tentative hopes he had begun to indulge in which had included her by his side.

As she disappeared in the crowd without noticing he had stopped walking with her, Schroeder realized he had learned a lesson too.

Far too late.

To Be Continued in "Dear Doctor Lucy"

A/N: Thanks for reading :)