A little quicker with the update this time, so yay! :-) There's a little...okay, a lot of drama going on in this chapter. It won't last much longer, but I hope you continue to trust me on this journey.

Thank you so much for your comments on the previous chapter. And it is always a fun surprise to hear from a new reader. Sometimes I worry I either ramble on too much or take too long with updates that people lose interest. It's nice to get that pleasant surprise every once in a while. Thank you all again. :-)

"No, that's okay. Thanks anyway, Rachel. If I don't see him around I guess I'll try calling again later."

"I'll tell him to call you if I see him first."

"Thanks. Well…bye." Angela sighed and dropped her phone onto the bed. Tracking down Eric was starting to seem like a fool's errand. Something was wrong, but damned if she could figure out what. She wanted to be mad at him for calling her a distraction yesterday, but it was so out of character for him that all she felt was confusion. The last time a guy decided to flip on her like a switch was when….no, she wouldn't think about that. Eric was different. At least she thought he was. Was she wrong? Was he just like every other guy she's dated? Was this going to end the same way? Angela wasn't sure she could take it again.

She couldn't think about that now. She had one more final to take tomorrow morning. Between now and then all she would focus on was her history exam. She'd deal with Eric later. Right now she needed coffee to fuel her studies. She picked up her phone as she headed for the door, dialing as she went. It went to voicemail. "Hi, Aunt Lois, it's Angela. If the offer to spend the summer at Nan's house is still good I'd like to take you up on it. I have a feeling I'm going to need some space. Call me."

/

Angela was unexpectedly relieved to find Jack working the coffee counter. It wasn't busy and he was putting fresh baked goods in the display case. "Hi."

"Oh…hey. Coffee?"

"Please."

Jack nodded and got to work on her beverage. "How many finals do you have left?"

"I've got history tomorrow morning. I can't wait to be done."

"I wish I would've thought like you and Eric and have one day completely free. I've still got two more days of tests. Poor Rachel has Saturday final."

"At least you have a scheduling goal for next year." She studied the food in the case. "Can I get a cookie, too?" She pointed. "The chocolate chip one the size of my face."

"Uh-oh, having a bad day? Cookie the size of your face implies a bad day."

"I don't know if I'd call it bad," she admitted, "but it's not great." She hesitated before continuing. "Jack, can I ask you something?"

He placed the cookie and coffee on the counter in front of her. "Sure."

"Has Eric said anything to you?"

"About what?"

"I don't know…just…anything? Anything about me? Us? Is something wrong?"

"I take it he's not saving his charming mood for the apartment, huh?"

"Definitely not. So he hasn't talked to you?"

"Aside from biting my head off because he thought I was eating his cereal, nope, sorry. To be honest, I've hardly seen him the past few days. If he's home he's in his room. When I do see him it's as if he's taken a vow of silence. Did you guys have a fight?"

"No, at least, not before pod person Eric showed up. There was a little thing yesterday, but…" She shook her head. "We normally talk about everything. I can't imagine what he thinks he has to keep from me."

"I bet it's end of the year stress," he suggested. "He wouldn't be the only one panicking and flipping out because of all the finals."

"Maybe."

"You think it's more serious?"

"All I know is one day he was happy and smiling and the next he's snapping and calling me a distraction." She tore opened a few sugar packets before added them to her beverage. "I'm going to go study. Here." She tossed some money on the counter. "See you around."

"Bye."

Angela was halfway back to her dorm when her phone rang. "Aunt Lois?"

"No, Angela, it's me."

"Me who? Who is this?"

"It's Morgan."

"Oh, Morgan, hi. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you'd be able to help me with that poem sometime this weekend."

Right. She'd told Amy to have Morgan give her a call when she needed help. "How about now? You're at home, right?"

"I got out of school a little while ago."

"I can come over now if you want."

"Sure, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. I'll see you in a little while."

"Thanks, Angela. I really appreciate this."

/

/

"Cory," Topanga exclaimed, running into the student union, "I just got off the phone with Mr. Rutherford. Someone cancelled the banquet hall and there's an opening. How would you like to marry me on July Fourth?"

"Who gets married on Independence Day?" A moment later he laughed. "I guess it's an ironic thing."

"Don't make jokes. Is this about your nightmares?"

"They're…don't get mad…anti-marriage. Last night I dreamed we got married and lived in the poor house. Do you know how I know?"

She flipped through her datebook, barely paying attention to him. "How, honey?"

"Because there was a gigantic sign out front that said, The Poor House. It had flashing neon lights and everything!"

"Pick a date."

"That wasn't all. There was an execution room called The Topanga Room. It was called that because you were the executioner! There were guillotines and axes and heads in baskets! My head!"

"Are you going to marry me or not?"

He sighed. "Yeah, apparently I'm just talking to myself here."

"Cory, we're going to be okay. I know it."

"How?"

"Our parents," she answered with a smile. "My parents got married young and so did yours'. And who's more happy and in love than those two couples?"

"That's true. I mean my parents are still having babies."

"Right. And when my parents come to town this weekend to discuss the wedding I'd like to be able to tell them we've set a date so we can continue the tradition of perfect couples with perfect marriages."

"Whoa…wait a minute. Your parents are coming this weekend?"

"You knew that."

"Does this look like the face of someone in the know?"

"You made conversation flashcards for the occasion," she stated, before adding under her breath, "that I confiscated." He wasn't listening to her anyway.

"They're going to kill me. They're going to kill me dead because their daughter gave up Yale for me. Thanks a lot, Topanga, you've just signed my death warrant! You-you…you executioner!"

"Can I tell my parents we've set a date?"

"We have?"

"Cory, it's okay to be nervous. It's natural."

"Hi, guess what?"

The young couple turned around and saw Mr. Feeny and Dean Bolander standing there, all smiles. "What?"

"Feeny and I are getting married on Sunday."

"Wait, what? When did this happen?"

"A few days ago."

"And you're getting married Sunday?"

"Yes."

"This Sunday, as in a couple days from now?"

"Yes."

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes," they answered simultaneously.

Just as quickly as they arrived, they were gone, and it was Cory and Topanga alone again. "See, they can pick a date."

"Please, Topanga, they're old. They don't have the time to call around to reception halls."

She checked her watch. "I have to go present my philosophy paper. Good luck in psychology. Please look over the dates again," she said, shoving her book into his arms. "I love you and I will call you later."

Cory shook his head. He wanted to marry Topanga. He had no doubts about that, but picking the date…it would be official. It would be real. There was something about making that final commitment. Would the dreams come true? Would he be unable to support them and wind up in the poor house? Would she hate him for it and want to kill him? These were not good thoughts to be having before his pysch final. He shoved Topanga's datebook into his back pack and wandered over to the bulletin board by the doors. One in particular caught his eye. "NYU Film School documentary competition," he read aloud, removing the paper from the board. "Huh."

"Here you go, ham and cheese on whole wheat."

He turned around and saw Jack standing there, holding a bag. "What?"

"The sandwich you ordered a few minutes ago? Remember?"

"Right," he snatched the bag out of his hand. Topanga strongly suggested he get the whole wheat bread, said something about it being healthier. "Sorry. I spaced out."

"Finals seem to be doing that to people. Can I ask you something?"

"If it's quick. I have to be across campus in twenty minutes."

"Shawn's going to class and taking all his tests, right? I know he's not sure about coming back to school next year, but he should at least finish this out."

"He is. I made him promise me he would. And I may or may not have followed him to his first few tests to make sure."

Jack smiled. That sounded like Cory. "Good luck on your test."

/

/

"It's onomatopoeia, right?" When Morgan received no response, she called out again. "Right? Hello?" She balled up a piece of notebook paper and threw it at her tutor. "Angela!"

Angela looked up when the wad of paper hit her forehead. "Hey, why did you do that?"

"I won't learn if you don't tell me if I got the answer right."

Why she thought helping Morgan would keep her mind off of Eric, she didn't know. He grew up in this house. His pictures were on the walls. How could she not think of him? "Sorry. Where were we?"

"I'm hoping we're at the part where onomatopoeia is the answer. It's the thing where you use words to imitate sounds, right?"

"That's correct." She put the flashcards aside. "You have a pretty good handle on poetry. I don't think you'll have any problems on the test."

"Thanks to you."

"No, Morgan, you're smart. You'd have been fine without me."

"Yeah, right, you made me see for good the difference between a metaphor and a simile."

"What is the difference," she challenged.

"If it's a simile you use like or as to compare two things. With a metaphor you just make the comparison."

"Right."

"I don't know why my teacher couldn't just say it like that. No, she had to use a lot of fancy words that confuse the hell out of everyone."

She smiled briefly before she leaned back in the chair and stretched. "You'll be just fine tomorrow, fancy words and all. Did you want to go over your poem one more time?"

"No. If I look at it anymore I'll be convinced its crap and want to start all over. And I do not want to start from the beginning again."

"Congratulations, you sound like a writer."

"Then shoot me now," Morgan deadpanned.

"Funny."

"Seriously, I don't get how you find this fun. It's torture."

Angela nodded. "Sometimes it can feel like that to me, too, but then I finally get the words the way I want them and it's a great feeling." She wrapped a rubber band around the notecards. "I've been writing since I was a kid. My dad has boxes of things I wrote starting from when I was like five or six- little stories, skits, and songs. As soon as I learned to hold a pencil all I wanted to do was write."

"Most kids would draw or play sports. Or they'd pick an instrument to play."

"I used to play the piano. My mom taught me. But I haven't played in years. I draw sometimes. I'm okay, not great. I'm not a big fan of playing sports, but even if I was joining a team was tricky. I moved around so much there's no guarantee I'd be at a game. I took dance classes, but only had a couple recitals. Writing was a hobby I could take anywhere, just me and my notebook. One of the many reasons my dad enlisted in the army was because he wanted to travel. If there was a chance for a transfer he jumped at it, even if we'd only been stationed in one area for a short time."

"What's the shortest amount of time you ever lived somewhere?"

She tried to backtrack through the catalog of moves in her mind. "When I was around six I overheard my parents having a fight about having to move again. My mom said something about it being our third move in less than two years. So there were probably places we lived in for just a few months. That's more often than most military moves, but my dad liked to travel."

Morgan couldn't imagine living like that. She'd lived in this house her entire life. "It sucks that you had to keep leaving."

"It was lonely sometimes, but I wouldn't trade the experiences I've had or the places I've seen for anything. You can't learn everything in a classroom."

"I definitely want to travel."

"You should. There's a lot to see out there." Angela checked the time. She still had some studying to do. "I should go." She stood. "Call me if you have any more questions, but I think you're going to do great."

"Actually, can you…I mean…when did…" Morgan shook her head. "Forget it. You can go."

"What is it?"

"It's…ugh…seriously, never mind. I'm so stupid."

She sat back down on Morgan's bed. "What's his name?"

Her head snapped up and she stared at Angela, eyes wide. "How did you know?"

"You can hardly form a complete sentence. That's a dead giveaway there's a boy involved."

"You won't tell my mom, will you? Oh, not Eric or Cory either."

"You're not in trouble or hurt or being pressured or threatened, are you," she quizzed, remembering her Nan's questions whenever she'd come home upset over a guy.

"No, nothing like that."

"Okay then. What's going on?"

"Dominic's just being stupid. Or I'm stupid. I don't know. Someone's being stupid."

Angela did her best not to laugh. She remembered being thirteen and did not miss it. "Yeah, boys can be stupid. They can make you feel stupid, too."

"Tell me about it," she muttered.

"What's wrong?"

"Last week Dominic asked me to go rollerblading with him once they open that new skate park later this summer."

"That sounds fun."

"But then he told me yesterday that he's spending the summer with his dad and step-mom in Cleveland. He's leaving the day after school lets out and not coming back practically until school starts again. So we can't go."

"He probably doesn't have a choice about going to his dad."

"I know, but then at recess he was playing catch with Jamie. She's supposed to be my friend. She knows I like him."

"Maybe she's his friend, too."

"They live next door to each other and have been in the same class since kindergarten."

"So it's entirely possible they could be friends?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe Jamie was trying to find out how much he likes you."

"You think? We were talking about it when I slept over at her house last weekend."

"And, just a hunch, but were you also looking out her window to try and see Dominic?" She laughed when Morgan's cheeks turned a shade of pink that rivaled her shirt. "Relax. You're just being a thirteen year old girl. Enjoy the good parts."

"But none of this feels good right now. What should I do?"

Angela thought it over. She had no one to talk to when going through this. Her mom was gone and she would've rather crawled across hot coal than talk to her dad about boys. She was forever scarred by his awkward, albeit well-meaning, attempts at the sex talk and guiding her through her first period. Hell, he was probably scarred by those events, too. What would she have done at thirteen? Or, rather, what did she wish she had someone to tell her? "Ask Dominic to go rollerblading. There's no reason you have to do it at the skate park, right? And he already asked you so you know he's interested."

"Doesn't the guy usually ask?"

"There's no law on that. If you like someone, tell them." She could tell by the look on Morgan's face that she was getting overwhelmed. "If it feels like too much pressure you can always have a few friends with you. Make it a group activity instead of a date. And above all else, remember that you're only thirteen. You don't have to rush being interested in dating even if your friends are. You have the rest of your life to deal with all this crap. Boys are still going to be around whenever you're ready."

"Thanks, Angela."

"You're welcome."

"My mom would freak if I told her this."

"Give her more credit. She's a pretty good listener and she was thirteen once, too."

"Did you tell your mom this stuff?"

"No, but my mom took off when I was a kid. She wasn't around to talk to."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Thanks." Angela picked up her bag, took a quick look through it, and made sure she had everything. "Now it's my turn to go study."

"I'd offer to help, but seventh grade poetry already makes me want to pull out my hair."

"That's okay," she said with a laugh. "I'll see you around."

"Bye."

Angela went down the back stairs and when she reached the kitchen Amy was getting dinner ready. "Bye, Amy."

"Oh, are you leaving already? Dinner's almost done. Alan's at the store until later tonight so it would just be me, Morgan, and the baby if you want to join us."

"Thanks, but I can't." Despite her words, she couldn't help but peak over Amy's shoulder.

"I found a recipe for chicken fajita pasta. It looked good and was quick and easy to make."

"It smells amazing, but really, I have to go."

"What's going to be your dinner? Vending machine garbage?" She shook her head. "If you won't stay, you're at least taking food with you. Give me five minutes."

Angela decided not to argue. She wouldn't win. Besides, anything she was sent home with was sure to beat the burger she planned to pick up on the way to her dorm. Who knew how much longer she'd get to enjoy Amy's cooking, let alone her motherly ways? Perhaps that was what compelled her to give Amy a hug, because no one was more surprised than Angela when it happened. "Thank you."

She returned the hug in earnest. "Sweetie, you don't have to thank me."

"Yeah, I do. Not just for the food, but for talking and listening to me vent about my mom even though I ruined your Mother's Day."

"You ruined nothing."

She pulled away and went back to the other side of the counter. "Still, you've been so nice to me. I've really appreciated it."

"When you say it like that it makes it sound like you're going somewhere."

"I just…I just wanted to say thank you."

"Are you sure?"

Angela nodded and took the Tupperware from the counter. "Thanks for the dinner."

"You're welcome."

/

Instead of taking the bus back to school, Angela headed for the wilderness store. It was the only place she hadn't checked and, assuming Eric didn't change his schedule around, it was where he should be right now.

From outside she spotted Eric talking to a customer. She stood in the window and watched him for a few minutes. There were no outward signs of the turmoil he suffered yesterday. He was engaging, animated, and laughing. He was Eric. She entered the store with a couple of people so as not to be noticed and ducked behind a display of lifejackets and continued to observe. While it was a relief to see him smile, she couldn't help but wonder what it meant. Was it her? Was she dragging him down? Did he decide all of the baggage she came with was too much?

"…trust me, Bill, even though the deluxe model is a little more expensive, in the long run it will be worth it. So what would you rather do- spend a little more now or have to come back in a year or two and buy a whole new stove? Not that we don't want you as a customer, but-"

"Okay, Eric, you've sold me. I'll take the deluxe."

He clapped the man on the shoulder. "Billy, you won't be sorry." He lifted a box from the shelf. "I'll take this bad boy to the register and you shop around. Find me if you have any questions."

"Hi."

Eric spun around and saw Angela standing behind him. "Is that mom's Tupperware," he asked, gesturing to the container in her arms.

"I was helping Morgan with her homework and your mom wouldn't let me leave without taking food."

"She's great like that." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "What-uh…what are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you."

"Why?"

"You acted the way you did yesterday and you want to know why I'm worried? Seriously?"

"I'm allowed to have a bad day."

"Of course you are, but that doesn't mean you're allowed to be a jerk."

"I'm sorry about yesterday, okay?" Eric still hadn't figured out how to tell her about his meeting with Dean Bolander. Every scenario he envisioned ended with Angela deciding he was too stupid for her. He glanced around the store, praying a customer or even his dad needed him for something. No luck.

"When are you getting your break? I'll hang around and we can talk and share your mom's food."

"I had my break already."

"Oh." She stared at him for several seconds. "You're done at eight, right? I could meet you at the apartment and we can-"

"I have my last couple finals tomorrow."

"So do I. I figured we could study and talk. You know…like we usually do."

"I'd rather be alone tonight."

Angela decided to cut right to the chase. "Did I do something wrong?"

"What? No. Why do you think that?"

"The last few days you've been acting so-"

"Stupid," he supplied.

"No. Different."

"Can we talk about this later?"

"What's wrong with now?"

"I'm at work and you're-"

"-a distraction?"

"That's not what I meant."

She crossed her arms and stood up straighter. "Why don't you tell me what you did mean?"

"I…later, okay? I'll call you."

"You know what, fine. Have it your way. You don't have to worry about me distracting you anymore." Though she knew it was immature, Angela couldn't help but smack the container of beef jerky sticks as she went, scattering the snack everywhere.

Eric slumped against the counter and put his head in his hands. Why couldn't he just tell her what was going on? Why did he always have to screw things up?

"What the hell is going on out here," Alan asked as he came out onto the sales floor. "Who made this mess? And what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing," he said before whispering, "just wrecking the best thing in my life."

/

/

"So I was thinking next week we could pick a day and just be together all day, an all-day date," Jack suggested. He'd seen how much Eric and Angela seemed to live for their Fridays. Maybe taking the same approach with Rachel would be good for them. Things had been tense ever since she went to New York with him. "Rach?"

She slowly looked up from her textbook. "I don't think that's going to work."

"Why not? Are you still mad at me?"

"No. Not really. Well, maybe a little."

"I don't know how many times I can apologize. I did a stupid thing. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing."

"I do if you're still mad. Pick a day and we can do whatever you want."

"I can't."

"Why?"

She sighed and put her book aside before joining Jack on the couch. "I'm going back to Texas."

"What?"

"I'm going for the summer. I talked to my mom. She and dad already bought my ticket."

"When do you leave?"

"My plane takes off Monday morning at eleven."

"Were you going to tell me?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"I was still working on that part," she admitted.

"You're so mad at me you're leaving?"

"No, it's not just that. I miss my family."

"But part of the reason you're going is because of me?"

"Things have felt weird between us for a while, ever since I found out about the bet you and Eric made when I moved in and-"

"You said you forgave us."

"I did, but it just got me thinking. Did we rush into this? We never discussed anything. You were upset about Chet and Shawn and then all of a sudden we were in a relationship."

"What are you saying? If Chet were still alive we never would've gotten together?"

"We definitely wouldn't have jumped into bed before we even went on a date."

"Fair enough, but-"

"Look, I'm not saying I want to break up, but I think we need some space to evaluate things."

"And you need to be seventeen hundred miles away to evaluate?"

"I think part of the reason things are so blurry is because we live together. Sometimes it feels like a roommates with benefits situation."

"Are you kidding me?" He got up and paced the apartment. "That's not true."

"When you think of me, what comes first in your head: Rachel my roommate, Rachel my friend, or Rachel my girlfriend?" He said nothing, only looked at her. "And that's why we need some space. When I asked myself the same question do you know what my answer was? Jack my friend, Jack my roommate, and Jack my boyfriend."

He sat back down on the couch. "I didn't realize that I…I'm sorry."

She slid over until she was beside him and covered his hand with hers'. "Me, too."

"Can I call you while you're in Texas?"

"Of course you can. Like I said, I'm not breaking up with you. I just think we need some separation to figure out how we fit into each other's lives."

Jack nodded, but couldn't shake the feeling that they were already done.

/

/

Angela rubbed her temples in an effort to ward off the headache she felt building. She knew any attempts she made for studying tonight were futile so she decided not to bother. As she dug through the cardboard box of mementos she wondered what it was about her. What made guys run so hot and cold? One minute they loved her and the next they wanted to ditch her. What made them want to run away the second they got close to her? Eric was supposed to be different. He promised her things would be different. Yet here she was again. Was she, as she's always feared, unlovable? After all, if her own mother didn't love her enough to stay in her life around how could she expect anyone else to?

Love. Topanga said it the other night and Angela laughed her off. It was too soon to fall in love with Eric, she rationalized. She'd been hurt too many times to simply fall in love. In hindsight she should've realized she was lost the day she looked out the window during chemistry class and laughed because one of the clouds looked like a giraffe on a tricycle. She couldn't wait for class to be over so she could tell him. That day they spent lunch laying in the grass and staring at the sky. She used to see clouds. Now she saw shapes because he did and would point them out all the time. Eric changed the way she looked at clouds.

There was a knock at the door and she turned the music down slightly before answering. A small, tiny part of her hoped it was Eric coming to explain his behavior. Instead it was Cory. "Topanga's not here."

"I know. She said I could borrow her notes for Economics."

"Oh." She moved away from the door to let him in.

Cory would have to be blind to not realize something was wrong, but he was hesitant to ask. He knew he hadn't been a great friend to her lately and wasn't sure if it was his place. "So I think I'm going to sleep for a week after all these tests," he stated, trying to keep it nonchalant. "How about you?"

"Disappearing from the world sounds like a good idea to me. It's the green binder," she said after watching him look around for a minute.

"What?"

"Topanga's economics binder is green."

"Right, I forgot: green for money. Duh."

"You dropped something."

"What?"

She picked up the blue paper that fell out of his pocket. "NYU Film School? Are you going to enter the contest," she asked, desperate for a distraction.

"I don't know. I thought about it, but it's dumb."

"Why?"

"Shawn's the camera guy. I'd just look like a weirdo copying his best friend. I don't want to take it from him."

"You wouldn't be. He takes photos, not make movies. And if you're going to be technical about it, working with a camera was your thing first. You were the one who made the documentaries in high school. Topanga told me even in junior high you worked with the school news channel." She handed the paper back to him before going to her bed.

"You think I should give it a shot?"

"Why not?"

"I don't even know what I'd make a movie about. But I guess I have time to think about that, right?" When she didn't answer, he looked over at Angela. She was staring into a box. He took a chance and ventured over to her side of the room. There was a photo resting on top of the box's contents. "That's a nice picture of you and Eric. When was it taken?"

"A couple weeks ago at Lindsay Adams' party." A new dress was bought for the occasion. She'd wanted to wear something Eric would find very hard to resist and that little red dress worked its intended magic. His hands were on her all night.

"You went to that?! That was supposed to be one of the biggest parties of the year, but invites were very exclusive. How did you guys make the cut?"

"Eric is friends with Lindsay's boyfriend."

"Oh, so-"

"Could you go?"

"What?"

"You have the notes so leave." She didn't have the mental energy a conversation with Cory required. "Please."

"Is everything okay?"

"Great, why?"

"You're sitting here in my brother's sweats even though it's like eighty-five degrees outside looking through a box about you two. Oh, and the music!"

"What about the music?"

"It's Sadie."

Angela smiled in spite of herself. "It's Sade, you dork."

"Still you told me yourself that you listen to her when you need to get in touch with your feelings or have a good cry." He'd asked her about the music she played constantly after Shawn ended things. She'd opened up to him in ways she never had before. "Did you and Eric have a fight?"

"I bet you'd just love that wouldn't you. This way you and Shawn can plot reconciliation attempt number four hundred and twenty-seven."

Cory didn't know what to do with the sudden attitude shift. "I'm asking because I care about you and we're friends."

"Please," she scoffed. "We haven't been friends in months. That is if we were really ever friends at all."

"Of course we were. No, we are," he stated with confidence.

"Then be a friend and do what I ask and get out." He wasn't moving. "Now!"

"Okay, all right. I'm going. But you know if you ever want to talk-"

"Goodbye."

"Yeah, okay." He walked backwards towards the door, stumbling over Topanga's desk chair in the process. "I'm gone."

Once he was in his room the music volume from Angela's dorm shot up to near wall shaking levels and all Cory could think about was getting to the bottom of his friend's misery. This surprised him, because he always through if or when they broke up he'd be thrilled and rush to tell Shawn. He winced at his own thoughts, realizing it made him a crappy friend and brother. While he still thought Angela made more sense with Shawn, he hated seeing her so unhappy. He dropped Topanga's binder on his bed before vacating his room, still not believing what he was about to do.

/

Eric was in the middle of shutting down the register when there was a knock on the window. "We're closed," he said, not bothering to look up. He lifted he head form the computer when the knocking became more incessant. "Cory?" He stalked over to the door and unlocked it. "What are you doing here?"

"We have to talk."

"About what?"

"About you and Angela." Eric simply turned around and went back to the computer. He locked the door before following his big brother inside. "Hello, did you hear me?"

"It's kind of hard to tune you out. Your voice is like the air raid siren from hell."

"What's going on with you guys? Did you have a fight?"

"Why does it matter to you? You've been rooting against us from the beginning."

"Fine, maybe that's true, but even I can admit I'm not sure the last time I saw either of you as happy as you are when you're together. And right now neither of you are happy. Angela's playing her feelings music and looking ready to cry and you-"

"She was crying?"

"Well, no, but she looked like someone who just got her heart broken."

Eric wasn't sure how long he stared at the faded register keys before looking back to his brother. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Angela. But it seemed to be all he was doing lately. "You were right, you know?"

"Right about what?"

"She's too good for me. You said she was out of my league and you're right. She's poetry, music, and art and I'm Dr. Seuss, Mother Goose, and finger paints."

"I didn't mean-"

"She's so far out there I'd need a telescope to see her in the stratosphere."

"Stop being so stupid. Just go fix it."

He shook his head. "I should've known it was too good to be true. Sooner or later Angela would see me for the idiot that I am."

"You're not an idiot."

"You just called me stupid not even thirty seconds ago!"

"Yeah, but I didn't mean it."

"Yeah, you did. You mean it every time you say it." Cory's silence was all the confirmation he needed. "You can go now."

"Are you going to fix things with Angela?"

"Goodnight."