"Quick, Dewey, grab the bag of walnuts from under my bed." Louie rifled through Huey's dresser.

Dewey lifted Louie's hammock to find a sack of walnuts hidden under a pile of clothes. "And why, may I ask, do you have a disturbingly large bag of nuts stashed under your bed?"

"What? I get peckish. What do you expect me to do all day while Huey's at Gwumpki's and you're studying?" He tossed a bottle of Huey's hair gel between his hands.

Dewey rolled his eyes and handed him the bag of walnuts. "Let me guess, you eat them while you're watching Ottoman Empire on Huey's tablet or ruining my comics with lazy, oily fingers?"

With a playful smile, Louie just shrugged. "Eh."

Dewey folded his arms. "What exactly is this plan of yours? Because if it involves fraud, larceny, or loitering," he ticked each item off on his fingers, "we may have to pump the breaks a little."

"Loitering? Seriously, Dewford?" Louie kicked the attic hatch open with his foot, a smug look on his face. "You know me better than that. And, for your information, this is plan B. I'll run through plan A before anything else has to go down." He climbed down the ladder with the walnuts slung over his shoulder.

"Go down?! What are you talking about, Lou? Slow down."

"Huey gave me free reign. Didn't you hear him?"

"That is not what he meant."

"He said scheme. I distinctly heard it."

"But that's not what he meant!"

Louie put his hand on his brother's shoulder when Dewey stepped off the ladder. "Calm down, Dewsenheimer. Like I said, plan B may not have to happen. Besides, you don't even know what it is so chill out." He dropped the walnuts and hair gel by the ladder. "Now then, I need you to work up some good old fashioned waterworks."

Dewey gave him a look that said "I most certainly am not crying for you."

"You have to, okay? Do you really want me to pull out the walnuts?"

Bill to bill, they stared each other down until finally Dewey threw his hands up and backed off.

"I didn't think so."

Dewey groaned. "Fine! But what am I crying about?"

Louie smirked and pulled him close. "It's like this…"

Once Dewey had warmed up his tear ducts by thinking about that puppy Uncle Donald never got him dying of old age or the tiger, Dewey-junior, that never got to come home with him, or whatever it was that pulled at Dewey's heart strings, Louie got to work.

He soaked a rag with salt and water and then went to get his mom and Uncle Donald. He peeked his head into the house. His Uncle Scrooge's scolding tone grated his nerves and made his skin crawl from across the room. Praise the Lord, it's not me in there. Heh. "Psst. Pssssssssst." He waved at his mom and uncle to come out into the garage.

Uncle D rolled his eyes and together he and Della left the kitchen. He closed the door behind him after taking one last look at Huey and Scrooge, probaby to make sure Huey wasn't causing Scroogle any trouble.

"What is it, Louie? What's wrong?" Mom met eyes with him, by the twisted look on her face she was clearly trying to switch her brain from one kid's problem to another.

"It's Dewey. I think he's taking the thought of leaving for college kinda hard." Louie pulled his hat off and dragged the brim back and forth between his fingers. "One moment he was packing for college and the next he's all curled up in bed, crying about it." He showed them the wet hankie before dropping it on the ground.

Mom gasped. "Oh, poor thing. I better go talk to him." She climbed up the ladder and peeked her head through the hatch to see Dewey at the edge of his bed, tears running down his cheeks.

She climbed up another rung on the ladder before Louie grabbed her leg and tugged her back down. "Louie, what-"

"Shhh, he really doesn't want you to know. He thinks it will… will, well, you know, he's 18. He doesn't want his mom to see him crying." Louie set his hat back on his head.

"But that's ridiculous! Everyone needs to cry sometimes and I want to be there for him so he knows that it'll be okay. I remember being sad when I had to leave Donald for flight school. Man, I was a wreck!"

Uncle Donald's eyes widened. "You were? I didn't know that."

Mom flushed and rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, yeah, but that's not really what's important. The important thing is that Dewey knows he's not alone." She went to climb the ladder again but Louie pulled her back by the arm.

"That's exactly right, mom! Great parenting instinct. I sat with young Dewford myself and we discussed all that mushy stuff. I really think he'll be alright. He just needs some time with Huey and I to really cement that into him, ya know?" He smashed his fist into hand.

"What do you mean?"

"Like a trip of some kind, maybe? I don't know. We can't really afford anything big at the moment, of course, and we wouldn't want that anyway." He made sure to stress that. If they get any hint that I'm after money again, I'll be grounded all summer. "But Dewey would feel a lot better if we could have some bro time. You know, like squished together somewhere in a small, moving space."

"You've shared the same room all your life. How much more squished together can you get?" Uncle Donald placed his hands on his hips.

Louie shrugged his shoulders, stuffing his hands in his hoodie. "All I can say is, I know my brother, and he would feel better about following his road to becoming a pilot if he got to spend more time with us before he leaves. That would definitely solve everything." He fained a gasp. "That's it! Road! Like a road trip. And you're right Uncle Donald, we have shared small living spaces… like the RV! That would be perfect. Tighter quarters, tiny bathroom, weird stagnant water smell. What do you say, Uncle D? Can we borrow the RV?"

Uncle Donald crossed his arms over his chest. "The RV? No! No way."

Louie turned to his mom and upped the level of his puppy-dog eyes. Della swallowed hard with tears in her eyes as she snuck her hand under Louie's hat and gently tousled his hair. "Donald, let them have the RV for a few weeks. Dewey is leaving after all. And you remember how it felt for us to be apart, right?"

Uncle Donald groaned and looked Louie up and down. "How can I know I can trust you?"

"Come on, Uncle D," Louie turned the puppy-dog eyes his way. "You're not just giving it to me. You know Huey will take charge of the keys so we don't lose them and Dewey's got a steady hand at the wheel when it counts. Don't you hear him crying up there?"

The three of them went silent and the thick sound of heavy sobbing could be heard through the floorboards. Louie winced. Oof, take it down a notch, drama queen. You're gonna blow it for us.

Uncle Donald's will weakened and he sighed, tossing Louie the keys. "Fine, but if you break a single thing on it, you'll have to work it off until I say. Got it?"

Louie stuffed the keys in his hoodie pocket. "Got it, Uncle D. You won't regret it." He smiled and gave them both a tight squeeze.

Della looked up at the hatch when Dewey's crying only got worse. "Are you sure I shouldn't go up there? He sounds like he's having a really hard time."

Louie climbed the ladder. "I'm sure he'll be fine. I'll talk to him about the trip to get his mind off of things. Thanks, Mom and Uncle D! You're the best."

He waited for them to go inside before he peeked his head through the hatch. "Dewey, would you cut the melodrama? You sound like a dying cat up here. I got the keys."

Dewey sniffled and wiped at his eyes, hiccuping. "Oh, yeah, yeah… I… that's great…." He hiccuped again and turned his face away.

In the silence, Huey's voice could be heard from inside the house.

"It's my life! Let me live it!"

Uncle D's unmistakable voice followed shortly after. "Hubert Angus!"

Dewey rubbed at his red eyes before hurrying to the hatch. "Did he just-"

"I think the Duke just told Uncle Scrooge off." Louie and Dewey held their breaths and listened as the door slammed and silence followed.