"Dr Quinn speaking," stated Joseph in as professional a manner as he could around a mouthful of sandwich.

"Joseph, it's Elizabeth" came the unexpected response. He swallowed noisily and immediately dropped his lunch back onto the napkin that he'd substituted for a plate.

"What's going on?" he asked warily, leaning back in his chair, "I thought you were going to call tonight and speak to Michaela then."

"I was," replied Elizabeth in a voice of forced calm, "but I'm worried. I needed to talk to you first."

"I promise I'm keeping her fruit and vegetable intake as high as her junk food intake," he offered lightly, "despite what she might have told you."

"This is not about food Joseph, this is serious," retorted Elizabeth acidly.

Instantly recognising the anxiety in her voice, his brow furrowed in consternation.

"Ok, shoot," he offered solemnly.

"What do you know about this Sully kid?"

The question caught him off guard and the surprise was mirrored in his tone as he framed his response.

"Only what Michaela's told me," he began, "his mom's single, works two jobs. He spends a lot of time with the Cooper kids when she's not around. You remember Charlotte Cooper, she was..."

"Of course I remember," interrupted Elizabeth in an irritated manner, "what else? What's the boy himself like?"

Still at a loss as to where this conversation was leading, Joseph ran a hand through his already ruffled hair before responding blithely, "Well I've never met him, but Michaela seems to really like him and you know how picky she is. She was so excited when she got home on her first day, seems like the two of them really hit it off."

"Elizabeth?" he called nervously, when a deathly silence met his comments, "you still there?"

"Joseph," breathed Elizabeth, an unfamiliar tremor audible in her voice, "I think it's time you had a talk with her. The talk."

When he failed to respond, she sighed audibly before continuing, "I know you don't want to and but she's never had any male friends before and I don't want her running around with some boy completely unawares."

"Well," began Joseph, clearing his throat uncomfortably, "I kind of, sort of, already told her."

"You WHAT?" yelled Elizabeth and despite the hundreds of miles between them, he visibly cringed away from her wrath.

"Well it's not like I planned it or anything," he argued feebly, "she just came home and was so excited to have a boy as a best friend. And she kept going on about how different boys are to girls and then the next thing I knew, she had me backed into a corner. You know how she gets when she wants something and well, I panicked.

"I'm sorry," he offered contritely into the silence that still managed to reflect the waves of disapproval he felt emanating from all the way across the country, "For what it's worth, she knew most of the stuff already and she almost had a heart attack when I suggested the idea of her having a boyfriend."

"Well, that was easier than I thought it was going to be," said Elizabeth briskly after a few torturously long moments, "at least she knows."

"I'll take care of her Lizzie," vowed Joseph, the smile creeping back into his voice now that her ire had apparently dissipated, "I won't let anything happen to her."

"I know," she sighed before adding wickedly, "I only wish I'd been there to see you fudge your way through that conversation."

"How disappointed you must be," replied Joseph dryly, "I'll tell Michaela you'll call her later."

"Thanks," replied Elizabeth, suppressing a laugh, "Oh and Joseph, for the record, pizza with extra tomato sauce doesn't constitute adequate vegetable intake."

November

The weeks sped by and November arrived, bringing with it an icy snap that turned the roads and paths into a treacherous test of co 'ordination and balance. Despite the warm jumper she had pulled on over her turtle neck, Michaela shivered and turned to glance at the empty space beside her. Since that fateful lunchtime in the cafeteria, she had been pleasantly surprised to learn that Sully was in all of her classes. Choosing to frequent an inconspicuous seat at the back of the classroom, her shy, sweeping gaze on her first morning had missed him entirely. Yet now they were almost inseparable, favouring a pair of seats on the far right that were near enough to the front for Michaela to be able to ask her usual barrage of questions but close enough to the wall for whenever Sully felt inclined to simply melt into it. Michaela was now also a permanent fixture at Sully's lunch table and though Mr Meathead and his Motley Crew, as Michaela had laughingly dubbed the rowdy group of eighth graders, continued to torment them, she found that with Sully beside her, the jeers didn't seem to meet their mark. In fact, they became a source of amusement and welded the bond of friendship even more solidly between the two of them.

Thus as Mr Harris walked into the classroom and the seat beside her remained empty, she couldn't help feeling concerned. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out some extra paper, determined to make detailed notes for him, just in case. However, just as she was rooting through her pencil case for a pen, he appeared in the doorway. Muttering an apology to the teacher, he wound his way quickly through the sea of desks and took his place beside her.

"Hey" she whispered, as Mr Harris began writing up the maths problems they had been assigned to finish for homework, "how comes you're late?"

Sully merely shook his head and pulled a battered notebook out of his bag. Rifling frantically through it, he finally found the page where he had scrawled the problems down yesterday. Michaela inhaled sharply when she realised that the space he had dutifully left underneath for the answers was still blank. Sully however, ignored her and grabbing a pencil, quickly began working out the answers.

"Sully, what gives?" tried Michaela again, "you haven't done your homework. That's not like you. And you look terrible. Are you sick?"

Without realising it, her voice had risen sufficiently in volume with the last statement to attract the teacher's attention and as he turned and fixed his gaze on the two students in the corner, she groaned quietly.

"Mr Sully," called Mr Harris, "you seem to have a lot to say on the matter. What was your answer?"

Sully cringed, his pencil dropping onto the page with his half worked out problem with a light thud.

"25" murmured Michaela, tilting her head towards him yet taking care to move her lips as little as possible.

"Thanks," offered Sully in a low voice, as the teacher moved on to his next victim.

"Sure," breathed Michaela as she watched him continue to work out the problems, her brow furrowed in confusion.

As the bell rang, Michaela instantly headed towards the classroom door, Sully trailing slowly behind her. Glancing around the hallway packed full of jostling students, she made a quick decision.

"Michaela," queried Sully, pausing where he stood and gesturing to the right, "where are you going? The science lab is that way."

"Come on," she hissed, grabbing his hand, "follow me."

"Where are we going?" he asked, lengthening his stride to keep pace with her rapid steps.

"You'll see," she replied mysteriously, a sly grin pulling at her lips.

Still holding tight to Sully's hand, she fairly dragged him around the side of the gym towards the deserted playing fields. Hidden behind a row of large, evergreen bushes, was a small patch of grass and it was here that she deposited her school bag before dropping down to sit cross legged on the ground. Sully watched in amazement as she hastily buttoned her thick, winter coat and pulled on her gloves before knotting her hands in her lap and fixing him with a stern gaze.

"Ok Sully, spill, what's going on?"

"We're going to be late for class," he stated uncertainly, continuing to stand before her.

"We're not going to class," clarified Michaela briskly, "now sit down and talk."

Sensing her determination, he moved silently to sit beside her, drawing his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees.

"My dad called last night," offered Sully finally into the silence that had fallen between them and remained unbroken for several minutes, "Mom was making dinner when he rang so she asked me to get it."

"Wow," said Michaela, monitoring his face to judge his reaction, "what did he say?"

"That he's passing through town and wants to see me," replied Sully, a bitter edge to his voice.

"What did you say?" she asked curiously, twisting slightly towards him.

"Nothing," he retorted angrily, "I slammed the phone down and told Mom it was a wrong number."

"But don't you want to see your dad?" queried Michaela timidly.

"No," replied Sully viciously, "the only time he ever called was to try and get more money from my mom. He doesn't care about me."

"I'm sorry," breathed Michaela, linking her arm carefully through his, "but you know, maybe he's changed."

"And maybe he hasn't," added Sully with a scowl.

"Well, you won't know unless you talk to him," reasoned Michaela, "and I think you should tell your mom, she'd want to know."

"She'll just get upset," argued Sully, "she hates talking about him."

"She'll be more upset if you don't tell her," replied Michaela softly.

He had no response to that: he knew as well as she how much his mother cared about him, how desperately she had worked to get him settled away from his father and how she would do just about anything, from making his Halloween costume to scrounging up money to pay for his extra music lessons, to make him happy.

"I can't believe you cut class for me," he said after a moment's silence, a teasing smile pulling at his lips.

"You're my best friend Sully," replied Michaela simply with a shrug, as though that settled the matter.

"So you wanna head back yet?"

"Can't we stay here just a little while longer?" asked Sully with a suddenly wicked grin, "My mom's gunna kill me for cutting class so I wanna make the most of it."

"Sure," giggled Michaela, rooting in her bag and pulling out her lunch bag, "I've got supplies."

"So I got a call from your principal today," began Joseph, catching his daughter's gaze in the rear view mirror, "he said you cut some classes today."

Bearing a strong resemblance to a tortoise suddenly facing grave danger, Michaela flinched and shrunk down into her coat, averting her eyes to the window. Joseph smiled at the comparison before continuing in a light tone, "So did you make it out of the school gates? I mean there's no point in cutting if you don't even get outside the official boundary."

"You're not mad?" exclaimed Michaela in a somewhat reverent tone and turning in spite of herself to gaze at her father in awe.

"No," replied Joseph, twisting around in his seat to grin at her expression, "you've never cut class before so I figured you must have had a good reason.

"So long as you don't make a habit of it," he added sternly, though the humour was still audible in his voice.

"Thanks Dad," breathed Michaela, visibly relaxing again, "you're the best."

"So just out of curiosity, what did you get up to?" queried Joseph, his habitual smile lightening his features, "anything fun?"

"Sully was upset about something," replied Michaela honestly, "and I wanted to make sure he was ok."

"You are an amazing, young woman Michaela Quinn," stated Joseph proudly before adding with a cheeky wink, "You definitely take after your dad."

"I'll tell Mom that when I email her tonight," teased Michaela, as the car pulled into the driveway.

"What and leave me undefended against her wrath?" laughed Joseph as he clambered out of the car and yanked his daughter lovingly out of the backseat, "even you don't have the heart for that, Dr Quinn."