AN: Thank you all reviewers! You truly make my day!

*There's a new cover for this story that I hand-drew myself. Check it out on my Instagram justanotherfangirl2004

Schroeder was finishing Beethoven's 5th when he noticed Lucy had disappeared from the room. His fingers left the keys gracefully as he looked around the small practice room. Standing up from the bench, he wondered if she was playing some kind of trick on him. He stooped under the piano, searching for her. He circled the instrument three times before calling out her name. Her stuff was still there on top of the piano. He glanced at it, noting that nothing was out of place.

He then heard an abrupt sound from outside the practice room. Schroeder practically jumped at the loud trumpet blaring. He hesitated, but then opened the door to find Lucy fiddling with the record player, adjusting the knobs and muttering to herself. He stood there, watching her with a clueless expression. She started the song again, stepping back with a lightness on her feet. She did small toe taps to the beat, swaying to the beat. He couldn't help but grin as she spun, letting her body loose.

When the trumpet solo ended, she turned to him, "Schro—" she froze when she already saw him at the door. Her face turned blank.

"What's this about?" he asked over the jazz music. She had an obsession, but he had to admit, it had a nice beat. It was a different pace from Beethoven, but not necessarily a bad one.

"Well," Lucy hugged herself, embarrassed. "I was hoping we could practice a few...dances?" She moved her shoulders to the music, obviously resisting the urge to dance.

"Practice?" Schroeder raised a brow. He had never practiced before for a school dance. What was there even to practice? He had been winging it for years. The formal dances taught at school were useless at any school dance.

"I saw a few new moves on TV last night...but it's a dumb idea," Lucy turned back to the record quickly, getting ready to take the needle off. This was the most pumped up he had seen Lucy in weeks. He wasn't going to let her deflate just yet.

"Show me," Schroeder stopped her, grabbing her wrist lightly. She turned to him, her eyes wide. He gave her an encouraging nod, tapping his foot. She moved his hand to her waist, placing her own at his shoulder. She then grabbed his free hand and began to sway to the music.

"It's a little bit of a kick really," she showed him, spinning out and kicking her foot. "We're supposed to do it together."

"Together," Schroeder repeated, watching her do the kick again. On the third trial, he followed her. She clapped her hands together with glee, jumping in his hold.

"Perfect!" she jumped up once more. "This is going to be fun." She showed him some other fancy moves Schroeder had never seen before. He never thought dancing could be like this. All jives and jitters and flowing. They built on each other wonderfully. The two practiced all the way through the record, laughing as they concluded each song.

Lucy huffed out of breath. "What did you think?" He wasn't ready for this to end, but he didn't know how much more his feet could take.

"Well..." Schroeder went to the records and pulled out another. "It's no Beethoven."

"You can't dance to that stuff," Lucy folded her arms, but he put the record on anyway. She didn't know what it was like to picture a fancy ballroom decorated festively. The women wore large gowns and the men powdered wigs. He had seen a painting of something similar to this dream of his. It was simply magical.

"Beethoven isn't the only man in classical," Schroeder told her. "Chopin has many suitable waltzes."

"Waltz?" Lucy looked petrified. "I don't know anything about the waltz." She definitely did, but they had learned it so long ago.

"Don't worry," Schroeder took her in by the waist. She clutched onto him, bringing her face close. "Just follow my lead." He spun her around, beginning the dance. She quickly took in the steps, her eyes not once leaving his face. Her eyes were so beautifully brown, and rich. And she had the tiniest of freckles on the bridge of her nose.

As the next song played, he took liberty in allowing his hand to drift to her back, allowing her more movement. She was a natural dancer, that was for sure. He could feel the curves of her body twist and turn at every move. "The room is spinning," Lucy told him honestly halfway through the second waltz.

"We have been spinning," he reminded her as they spun again.

"No," Lucy shook her head as she took a step back, stumbling over herself. He watched her for a moment before she leaned to the side. He took hold of her again as she slumped in his arms. He tried to steady her, but she kept falling to the floor. Panic swept over him.

"Lucy?" he asked, propping her head in his lap. "Lucy? What's happening?" She grumbled and waved him off.

"Give me a minute," her eyes were fluttering shut. "I just need a moment then it goes away."

"What goes away?" Schroeder asked.

"The dizziness," she shuffled around, making herself comfortable.

"You mean this is normal?" he wouldn't let her go to sleep. She didn't answer that. "When was the last time this happened?"

"Yesterday after I got the mail," Lucy answered sluggishly. "I ran inside and collapsed on the couch. But it's no big deal. I'm fine." Schroeder thought to himself. What could be the cause of this? This wasn't normal. Why was she acting like it was?

"Lucy," he nudged her again, and her eyes fluttered open. He noted her pale complexion. "Have you eaten anything strange recently?"

Lucy awoke to that. She sat straight up, her head almost colliding with his chin. "Nope. Just the usual."

"Are you sure? You look like you're getting paler every time I see you," Schroeder admitted, noting the anxiety that rose within her. She began to clean up the records, putting them back on the shelf in the wrong places. Glancing up at the clock, she stood, hiding her stumble the best she could. She then marched into the practice room and collected her bag.

"I should be getting home." She tried to make her way to the door, but Schroeder stopped her.

"I should walk you home," he placed his hand on the doorknob, closing her off. She stared at him, with love one moment, and then fear the next.

"I'm fine, really," Lucy put her hand atop his. "You should keep practicing." She managed to get the door open, the handle slipping through his fingers. She gave him a small smile. "Bye, Schroeder." He watched her round the corner. He didn't believe that expression for one second.

"Lucy!" he called. She turned around in the empty hall, her lips still curved upward. She waited for him to speak, but he hesitated. "Y-you know you can tell me anything."

"I know," she nodded and went on her way. He sighed, confused as ever.

Charlie sat on the wall, staring blankly out into the distance. He still couldn't believe himself. He and Linus had been friends for as long as he could remember. Without him, it felt like a whole part of his life had been ripped from under his feet. All of his friends were distant now, replaced by his new life. Even though he had been busy all of this time, knowing Linus and the gang was behind him was comforting. Now, he felt there was no one behind him at all.

"Charles?" Marcie called from behind. Charlie almost jumped at the sight of her. He hadn't said anything out loud, had he?

"Hey, Marcie," Charlie composed himself quickly, wiping the single tear he shed mindlessly. He turned to her. She appeared tranquil, her large round glasses shining in the setting autumn sun. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you, actually," she admitted. "I heard that you've been struggling in school."

"I—" Charlie stopped himself from snapping. It was almost a reflex. He didn't want to chase her away. He took a deep breath, and sighed, "Yeah, I am."

"I'm proud that you've admitted it, Charles, it's the first step toward improvement," she jumped up onto the wall beside him.

"Improvement?" he repeated.

She nodded. "I'm willing to help you."

"You would be the first," Charlie muttered without a second thought.

"Just because you've shut us out doesn't mean we're gone, Charles," Marcie told him honestly. "There are plenty of struggling jocks that I could waste my time on, so I would suggest taking my help."

"They've all got girlfriends to do their homework," he shook his head. He then realized his statement. "Are you suggesting that—"

"I be your girlfriend? No. I'm a tutor. I get credit for this."

"Oh, right," he stared at his feet.

"Why embarrassed, Charles? Everyone needs help sometimes."

"I know." Charlie thought for a moment. Tonight at practice, the guys talked about their dance dates. Charlie had been the only one without a date. He had been asked so many times, but he had been hoping Heather would ask him. No matter what he had tried, he couldn't seem to even get a spark of attention from her. "Marcie, how do you get a girl to notice you?"

"I'm not an expert on love."

"Neither am I, but what do you think?"

"Who are you trying to get?"

"Heather," he told her sheepishly. The only person he ever shared his crush with was Linus. "I've been trying all month to ask her to the Halloween dance, but she hasn't even said congratulations to me."

"Not everyone is going to fall to your feet, Charles," Marcie simply stated. "Just because you're good at sports doesn't mean that you're going to have your whole life perfectly laid out for you."

"It would help," he grumbled. "I wish I could show her that I could be more than a...simple football player."

Marcie seemed to think for a while. "I think jealousy is the most effective way to get a girl's attention."

"Jealousy?"

"You're playing the part of a shallow jock," Marcie shrugged. "She probably thinks you're not serious."

"But I am serious," Charlie tried to build himself up. "How can I show her?"

"Take someone to the dance. Not one of those fans, but someone real."

"I wouldn't know who to take," Charlie admitted. "Peppermint Patty did call me a while ago. I don't know if she'll even go with me. Not now, anyway."

"Take me," Marcie proposed.

"What?" Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"Take me," Marcie repeated. "That way we both know what we're in for. We'll fake it, and then Heather's all yours and no feelings hurt." He thought her words over. Marcie had been a close friend of his for a long time. He could easily take her help at the dance and make Heather jealous, and he wouldn't even have to break it off with Marcie because she would be in on it. It was the perfect plan.

"Just the dance?" he asked.

She nodded, holding out her hand. "Deal?"

"What are you getting out of this?" Charlie asked.

"I'm just helping you," she shrugged. "I've never had a date to a dance before."

"Then we've got a deal," Charlie took her hand with a smile. Things were looking up again.

Lucy wrote quickly in her notes. She could feel her eyes drooping with every passing second. Schroeder continued playing, not skipping a single beat. She didn't notice him staring up at her every few measures. She was too tired for that. It was strange because she got plenty of sleep these last few nights. Even during the day, she would nap as she pleased. Many times, Rerun had to wake her for supper.

She was just about to drop her pencil when Schroeder muttered, "Are you staying with me, van Pelt?"

"Huh? Yeah," she sighed, turning over her notebook.

"If you need to nap, you can," Schroeder said. "Or you could just tell me what's wrong." Why did he always have to think something was wrong? Just because she was a little tired and achy didn't mean the whole world was coming to an end.

"Nothing is wrong Schroeder," she hissed. "We already discussed this."

"Two days ago. I want to discuss it again." He stopped playing and looked at her. She felt her stomach flip. Whether in hunger or from butterflies Lucy wasn't quite sure anymore. He couldn't know the truth. It was too embarrassing.

"You know," Lucy put her books off to the side. "I think I'll take a nap after all. You go on and play." She nodded off to his light accompaniment. She was in a deep sleep within seconds.

Schroeder played until he was sure Lucy was asleep. He had barely gotten through the opening before her breaths had become deep and steady. His fingers lifted from the keys and ran through his blonde hair. She wasn't telling him something. He knew that was true for sure. But what exactly? What could be causing her to become so tired all of a sudden? She never was like this before. Now it was every time he practiced she would fall asleep.

He searched her calm face. Her skin looked different, almost sickly, and she was shivering. He was warm just in his t-shirt. He pulled his sweater off the bench and contemplated what to do with it exactly. Maybe she was simply ill. He gently put his hand on both of their foreheads. No, she didn't have a fever, and she hadn't sniffed once this month. It wasn't a cold or the flu.

"Think Schroeder," he told himself. He glanced at her bag. Would there be any sign in there? He reached for it, but then he noted the water bottle. She had been carrying that thing around for weeks. What was in it? She wouldn't be drinking. Would she? Schroeder shook his head as he took the bottle and sniffed it. Nope. She definitely was only drinking water. But was that all she was drinking? He thought back to the nights at the football game. She barely touched her popcorn. At lunch, she would play with her food, stating how nasty it was. She would eat a bite or two and dump the rest.

His thoughts stopped altogether when he figured it out. She wasn't eating. Schroeder peered at the sleeping girl. Her cheeks were looking rather hollow. he couldn't believe it. Why would she do that to herself? There was only one way to find out. "Lucy," he called without thinking. Lucy grumbled something but didn't wake up. He scotched closer to her, her nose just about bumping his. "Lucy," he called again.

She stirred, her eyes fluttering. Instinctively, Lucy jerked back in surprise. "Oh," she put a hand to her heart. "You scared me, Schroeder."

"I know why you're tired," Schroeder told her.

"You do?" Lucy raised a brow.

"You haven't been eating." She squirmed at his words.

"I don't think that's it." Lucy tried to move off the piano, but Schroeder took her by the waist and hoisted her back up. She was lighter than he thought. She stopped squirming after he kept his hold.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked, calmly.

"Schroeder..." she looked down, embarrassed.

"How long?" he asked again, impatient this time.

"Summer," she muttered. "More like August, I guess."

"Does Linus know?"

"No," she answered instantly. "I've eaten enough to get by at home."

"Why aren't you eating?" Schroeder asked the important question. It didn't matter when or who, but why.

Lucy hesitated as if she wanted to run, but he kept his hands firm on her waist. "I think you can answer that question yourself," her eyes flicked down to his hands. He let go, realizing her discomfort. She tugged on her sweater, solidifying his assumptions of her meaning.

"You're not fat," Schroeder told her, unknowing of what else to say. It was true she was not as skinny as a sick, but she certainly was not fat.

"Tell them that," Lucy pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Who's them?" Schroeder almost growled. He didn't even know he was capable of that tone.

"Who do you think?" Lucy asked sarcastically. "Violet and Patricia."

He wasn't surprised, simply angry. He was so angry. Schroeder could feel it boiling in the pit of his stomach. He had never felt anger like this before, but now it was stirring in him. If they weren't girls, Schroeder didn't know what else would stop him from a swift punch. He kept his clenched fist to his side. "They have no right to call you anything."

"They didn't call me anything," Lucy shook her head. "There was an..." she tucked her hair behind her ear. "An incident that caused this." She closed her mouth, examining her shoes. Why wouldn't she look at him? He was only trying to understand her. Impatience winning over him, he tilted her chin with his thumb. She met his eye again, her brown iris settling on his.

"Tell me," he demanded. He had been kept in the dark long enough.

"I...don't know," she mumbled. He held his ground. With a sigh, she said, "We were shopping, trying on new dresses, and being ourselves when...it ripped."

"What ripped?"

"The dress," Lucy admitted, her face turning red. "The fabric tore right in the center. Not a seam. The middle of the fabric." She buried her face in her knees, swiveling away from him. He didn't know what to say, what to do. Out of all things, he had never expected that. She was rounded, but the way she had spoken of herself depicted her as some monster. "I understand if you don't want to go to the Halloween dance with me anymore," she whispered with a sniffle.

His heart sank, deflating every bit of anger stirring in his stomach. Schroeder had always seen Lucy as a force to be reckoned with. He never imagined her like this, so broken and insecure. He reached for her, taking her hands first, then spun her around. He tugged her until she was on the edge of the piano. Her eyes were filling with tears when he pulled her into his arms. She was still at first, stiffer than a board. "I want to go with you even more," he told her. She accepted the embrace then, letting her arms fold around his neck and press her body against his. "Thank you for telling me."

"Please don't tell Linus," Lucy said into his shirt. "Or I'll pound you." He almost chuckled at that.

"I won't," he promised, thinking of the other secrets he had to keep track of. "As long as you promise to let me help you." He tightened his grip on her back, pulling her even closer. She felt so weak in his arms.

"How are you going to do that?"

"By taking you out to dinner," Schroeder said without another thought. "I want you to feel comfortable with me, with eating, with yourself."

"How can I ever be now?" Lucy asked, pulling away. Her eyes were hollow and doubtful. Schroeder almost scared himself for how much compassion he felt at that moment. This girl he had despised for so long was now someone he wanted to protect and hold from danger.

"Because you're not yourself, Lucy," he said simply. "Although I approve of this new outlook of kindness you've been showing, you don't have to take a beating like this." She leaned back in, embracing him again. "I'm going to help you get through this," he told her, putting his chin atop her head. He hoped he had the strength to live up to his words.