CXV. Cruel Summer

Hot summer streets
And the pavements are burning
I sit around

Trying to smile
But the air is so heavy and dry

Strange voices are saying
What did they say
Things I can't understand
It's too close for comfort
This heat has got right out of hand

It's a cruel, cruel summer
Leaving me here on my own
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Now you're gone

The city is crowded
My friends are away
And I'm on my own

It's too hot to handle
So I got to get up and go

It's a cruel, cruel summer
Leaving me here on my own
It's a cruel,
It's a cruel cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one

It's a cruel, cruel summer
Leaving me
Leaving me here on my own
It's a cruel,
It's a cruel cruel summer
Now you're gone

It's a cruel, cruel summer
Leaving me here on my own
It's a cruel, cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one

It's a cruel, cruel summer
Leaving me
Leaving me here on my own
It's a cruel,
It's a cruel cruel summer
Now you're gone
You're not the only one

Cruel Summer is the property of Bananarama and appears in the film The Karate Kid.

Land of a Million Drums is the property of Outkast.

"Got enough breathmints, buddy?" teases Jay, poking Sean's exposed neck through the bars of his headrest.

"Leave Sean alone, and read through paragraph two," orders Alex. "You have the punctuation of a pre-schooler, not that you'd know because the judge would have to find your apology under about three Cheeto fingerprints."

Sean had composed his essay earlier but he didn't feel so good about it either. Maybe it was the three-month absence from school or the grim recounting of his summer activities or the fact that his support system would be cut in half in two days. The Camerons were leaving, including Tracker, since Sean's plea bargain was set. He really relied on them staying close but he guesses it would be sort of selfish to ask them to hang around longer. He's already taken up so much of their time. Sean notices Ellie's new Frankenstein squeeze doll hanging over her dashboard. Marco presented it to her right after her driver's test. After helping Emmitt at the garage, Sean's body was nearly as stiff as the doll's but there was no way he wasn't going to accept a personal invite from Mr. Nash.

"I got hungry," defends Jay. "And speaking of making a case for myself, you never answered the question I asked earlier."

"For good reason," affirms Alex.

"What reason?" says Jay.

"Based on your past performance, with about a million diseased female mouths that would testify against you," replies Alex, circling a couple verbs Jay spelled incorrectly.

"It wasn't a million," says Jay quietly, though everyone knew the number was high, even though the question remained unsaid.

"What is the question?" broaches Sean.

"Mind your own business, Tic Tac," says Alex with a roll of the eyes.

"Oh no, Sean, she won't listen to you," insists Jay. "Because you would vouch for me. Gimme that essay."

Alex grins as she hands the paper over. Jay balks.

"A D? Really?" says Jay. "I didn't ask you to grade this!"

Shrugging, Alex smiles and adjusts her seatbelt over her purple wife-beater.

"Why did I decide to drive again?" moans Ellie.

"Because of this," reminds Sean, nodding to her new license sitting very visibly in the cupholder.

"Oh yeah," says Ellie without a hint of modesty.

Sean kisses her cheek. He had to give her props. After the up-and-down state of their relationship, the stressful moments, and a grueling seminar, she passed with flying colors. His chief regret besides Ty is their missed opportunity to make other colors fly by as they sped on his road trip motorcycle. That trip was the reason for...everything. Life certainly liked to punch him in the face.

"You don't have to go with me tomorrow," whispers Sean.

He refused to burden their second chance with any more secrets so he told Ellie that Ty left him a package somewhere at Ace's now charred remains. Ellie instantly said she wanted to go along. Sean rejected the idea but after considering it, he agreed. He couldn't repeat his screw-ups. He couldn't block her out like before.

"Yes, I do," whispers Ellie.

"So when are you getting your own car?" speaks up Alex from the backseat.

"This month," replies Ellie. "Dad promised."

"Make sure to take Sean," says Jay. "He helped me pick out my second."

"Cause your first was a hot mess," recalls Alex.

"Sometimes I still use that hot mess and we met when I was driving that hot mess," says Jay.

"I couldn't care less if you sell that hunk of junk," claims Alex.

"The lady doth protest too much," says Jay with a smirk.

"You two are too much," sighs Sean. "I'm glad we're here."

They were, Ellie pulling onto her home street like she's practiced it a hundred times. The four of them are not alone. Ellie beams as she spies Marco, Dylan, and her parents in the front yard. Marco holds a "Honk If You Have a License" sign over his head but it still doesn't reach Dylan's chin. Ellie delivers a short honk. They cheer once Ellie winds her window down. Amanda Nash claps wildly...until she sees who's in the passenger seat. Sean debates hiding his features by lowering his mirror. Didn't Mr. Nash tell his wife he was coming? Maybe he was afraid she'd stay in the house or bolt the door right after Sean got out.

Ellie shuts off the ignition and climbs out. Sean unclips his seatbelt.

"I signalled like a champ on the way," kids Ellie, receiving a hug from her father.

"It's important to remember signals," says Amanda.

Sean exits the car and puts his hands in his pockets.

"Very important," adds Amanda with a withering look in his direction.

"Frankenstein's dancing," points out Dylan.

He effectively breaks the tension as they watch the monster swing to and fro in Mrs. Nash's car. Sean manages to smile.

"Come on in, folks, before the food gets cold," says Mr. Nash.

Once she hits the button to lock the car, Sean follows Ellie into her house. It's not as if he hasn't visited their house in happier instances but tonight it's different. Now, both her parents are informed about his past and present mistakes, and her mother is waiting for any future falls of grace. Sean waits in the foyer.

John pauses. "Steamy night, isn't it, Sean?"

"Yeah," replies Sean.

"Downright unusual," continues John. "For September."

For me, thinks Sean, this whole night's going to be unusual. He stands beside Ellie in the center of the room. Jay, Alex, Marco, and Dylan sit in chairs surrounding them.

"We had to do something after all your accomplishments," says Amanda warmly. "Getting your license, doing wonderfully in your seminar..."

"Having a story published in the Core," interrupts Marco.

"I was going to say that, Marco," insists Amanda, playfully moving her hands to her hips.

Everybody laughs, Marco hanging his head in mock shame.

"And we're anxious about the accomplishments to come," says John. "Paige, take out the take out!"

Sean hears some ruffling from the kitchen and Paige walks in with a large box of Indian take-out. Several bowls are on the tray.

"This smell is strong enough to curl any of Dylan's unplucked nose hairs," mutters Paige.

"Thanks, guys!" comments Ellie, walking over to view her favorites. "Sean and Marco deserve first dibs for quizzing me and/or taking me out for test drives."

"Yeah, buddy!" says Marco without waiting to hear any protests.

Alex joins the group anyway as they start loading plates.

"I totally just read on U of T's Res Social that your roommate is throwing a party!" whispers Alex to Ellie. "I need to see her cray firsthand."

"I'm not bailing on my parents' party, Alex," whispers back Ellie.

"We can hit both," suggests Alex.

"Wait, where is this party?" asks Ellie, realization dawning on her.

"Won't know til we drop by there," teases Alex.

Alex knew and Sean knew the missing information would drive Ellie up the wall. Ellie raises her eyes to the ceiling. Since their last interaction with Amberly was their fight in front of Sean, Sean's positive that their dorm room is the site. Who would suspect peppy Amberly was that vindictive?

"Our RA is away this weekend," mutters Ellie.

Sean groans. "Perfect timing."

While Ellie grumbles into her first helping, Jay moves his crutches towards the end of the table. He picks up the top of a sterling tray.

"Ooooh, I brake for cake!" cries Jay.

"Jay! That was supposed to be a surprise!" exclaims Mrs. Nash.

"Guilty as charged," says Jay with a wink at Dylan.

Dude, mocking Dylan's infamous line from years ago was so old. Dylan throws up his hands.

"Not gonna lie," says Alex. "I want cake too."

"Fine," sighs Amanda.

Ellie grins at the cake. Sean isn't lying, which is a relief, when he tells Mr. Nash he's impressed with the cake's decoration. The icing around its borders reflect a highway with small plastic trees interspersed throughout. Congratulations Ellie is located in the width of a red stop sign. Below that, a blue icing license plate with E11IE stretches from left to right.

"This is better than my birthday cakes," praises Ellie.

"It better be," says Amanda. "I was there for an hour, sorting everything out."

"Can I have a piece of the stop sign?" asks Ellie.

"You may," says Amanda, cutting it herself.

Then, she cuts a piece of cake for Sean to eat later. Sean nods in appreciation when Amanda puts the plate in a temporary spot.

"There, Sean, you can eat a license plate instead of making them," says Amanda.

Sean nearly drops his bowl as the rest of the room goes silent. Jay smacks his lips and starts sliding the knife through the cake for his slice.

"You did not," says Ellie, glaring at her mother.

But she did, moans Sean inwardly. He shouldn't have shown up. Amanda Nash loathes him, and the loathing runs deep, deeper than any piece of dessert, any wound he's ever had, or any hole he could dig himself out of...and he doesn't blame her.

"Ellie...," begins Sean.

"Never mind that we have guests," mentions Ellie.

"What, they aren't up on Sean's sordid history?" says Amanda. "Like I wasn't up on Sean being here?"

"You should've expected it," says Ellie.

"John," says Amanda as she turns to her husband.

"Dad doesn't have to fill you in," continues Ellie. "Because we're a package deal. Because it makes sense!"

"Nothing makes sense including why you choose to stay with this...this...," cries Amanda. "I'm out of words. Congratulations, Sean. I am word-less."

Sean shakes his head. Mr. Nash is correct. Steamy night. Too steamy to stand here and take it. He walks quickly to the kitchen. His friends trail him, running from the drama too.

"Best...family...celebration...ever," deems Paige as she retrieves a soda from the fridge.

"I didn't finish my cake," moans Jay.

"They hate me," groans Sean.

"We don't," offers Alex, sitting on the kitchen counter.

"I can't believe you left Mrs. Nash speechless, Sean," says Dylan.

"Somebody needs to shut her up," says Alex.

The group looks blankly at her.

"Ya'll know it's true," adds Alex.

"All those Tic Tacs for nothing," says Jay. "I guess I asked my dad to extend my hospital curfew until longer for nothing too."

"Why don't we shut up so we can hear them fight?" suggests Paige. "My money's on Ellie bolting."

There were three raised voices coming from the living room. John Nash's voice was the most muted but it had power behind it. Sean can only hope Ellie's not being unflinchingly grilled in there. He will go in if he has to, although he's hoping he won't have to do that.

"And he'll be taking my daughter to a crime scene!" exclaims Amanda.

Oh no, the Ty task they're doing tomorrow. He walks back to the living room. Amanda and John's stares dart to him.

"Uhhhhh," says Sean with widened eyes.

"Yes, because it's for Ty, and if there was anybody who was completely innocent in this, it was him," argues Ellie.

"I don't care if that sweet kid was altar boy to the Pope!" cries Amanda. "You're not going."

"I am!" says Ellie.

"Not in my car!" vows Amanda.

"Understood!" says Ellie. "Dad, you know, why bother? Sean didn't come for this."

"He should be in jail!" exclaims Amanda. "He just got off on so-called potential, according to the judge."

"Well, you're apparently a judge too," says Ellie, fumbling for car keys. "And you're not a very fair one."

Ellie locates the keys in a hurry and stomps into the kitchen.

"Five seconds if you need a ride!" yells Ellie.

She doesn't need to ask twice. Even Marco, Paige, and Dylan charge to the door and Dylan's car. Sean watches them go and can't stop himself from pausing by Mr. Nash.

"Thanks for having me?" says Sean, wondering if it's appropriate.

"No thanks necessary," returns Mr. Nash as he stares at him bewildered.

They pile into the two cars. Amanda Nash appears in the doorway, her gaze on Ellie. Ellie shrugs.

"You're not driving my car!" shouts Amanda.

"What are you going to do, call the cops?" challenges Ellie. "Then if I'm convicted, I can make a license plate for you."

Sean leans over towards Ellie's window. "Don't."

"Sean wants me to stay with you guys," announces Ellie. "Go figure."

Ellie climbs into the car and revs up the engine.

"We're going to a party," says Ellie.

"Yesssssssss," says Alex until Jay elbows her.

The tires peel on the street as Sean holds on tight. He breathes out as Ellie smacks the Frankenstein doll to the windshield. Frankenstein twirls before stopping to stare directly at Sean.

II.

The lawn is pulsing. Beer cans litter the scene, under the statue of former president Perry Blackmore with his stone ponytail, by the flowering bushes a few feet below her dorm room, and behind the glass door she and her friends go through. Ellie notices red marker breasts on a poster of Ghandi. Oh, to be eighteen and an idiot...to find this funny.

Ellie doesn't hate partying. She hates stupidity and she hates disrespect, whether it's from her mother or Amberly. Alex and Jay linger at the bottom of the steps as if they wouldn't go up regardless.

"Whatev!" says Ellie, leading the troops.

"The armpit university of North American education," condemns Paige. "Why do you go here, Dylan?"

"Banting's not that much better," says Dylan.

"I beg to differ," says Paige who lets out a squeal when her toes meet a discarded condom.

Her room door is open. As Alex, with Jay's crutches over her shoulder, and a one-foot-hopping Jay reach them, she views twelve guys around a beer funnel; a three-way kiss being captured on several cellulars; and a cherry-red thong on her typewriter. Who is walking around here without underwear? Does she want to know? Ellie interrupts the continuing kiss to pick up the thong with a pair of scissors and throw it to the floor. She screams but it's not as loud as the music. Amberly is this close to comatose. There must be about thirty people crammed in here.

In the land of a million drums
there is always something going on, on, on, on
If you can't locate your thought off
might as well go on take your dead home, home, home, home

Sean joins her, bug-eyed. Even he's surprised how wild this is, and why wouldn't he be? Amberly knits lacy pillows for crying out loud.

"Should we yell at people to bail?" asks Sean over the thumping rhythm.

"I can't even!" says Ellie, practically ignoring him. "Where is she?"

Her sight goes from Marco blocking off jocks who are making a beeline to Ellie's drawers to Dylan hugging what seems to be a friend. Paige dodges one of Ellie's leering hallmates. Jay and Alex...were Jay and Alex. They dig through a bag for red paper cups before being tossed two beers. It's the red cup that lets Ellie zero in on the target. A dark-haired girl with a pink belly-baring T-shirt and tight jeans stands in a crowd of frat guys. Amberly squeezes a guy's muscle and flutters her fingers in front of her face.

"You should go on MTV's The Challenge!" praises Amberly.

"I applied four times for the Real World," shares the guy.

That guy...no, that familiar guy. Heath. He's the goober that was all over me when I moved in, recalls Ellie. Amberly had to have no idea but it bothered her all the same.

"Your muscles are so major!" continues Amberly.

Amberly should get a major tongue lash, and Ellie's amped enough to give it to her. She passes an enthused Jay and Alex dancing to the sound system.

Break it down, break it down baby 'til the flow jumps off the ground
Ooo break it down lookin' over yonder til the walls come tumblin down
Ooo, yes lord y'ain't gotta tell me two times but you know I know
Ooo, break it down, break it down baby 'cuz I want y'all all to know
We rock the world

"Heyyyyyyyyyy!" says Alex, turning to do a few hip rolls.

Jay cheers her flexibility with his cup. "U of T works for me!"

A few guys around him applaud and he rocks with Alex to the song's returning chorus. Ellie grabs Amberly's arm and whirls her away from the guys. Amberly hiccups, smiles.

"Eleanor!" greets Amberly. "Isn't this the best shindig on campus?"

"No, it's not the best anything on campus!" yells Ellie.

"You're always stressed!" says Amberly. "Goooosh, after all the last minute planning I did."

"What?" snaps Ellie.

"I waited until our RA's girlfriend went into labor. She's like twenty-eight!" says Amberly, putting a finger to Ellie's lips. "Scandal! And I don't mean the television show!"

"We're going to get busted!" says Ellie. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking...who's wasted?!" shouts Amberly at the top of her lungs.

Every partygoer turns to lift their cups. Ellie balls her fists. No parties in the first-year dorms. There were no exceptions. Plus, these people were touching her property. If anything was damaged...

I coulda got away with it, if it wasn't for you meddlin kids
(oh oh, oh no)

Ellie notices Sean gathering the rest of their friends. He must still be angling to stop this thing despite Ellie confining her focus to the reason for this thing.

"Truthfully, I'm stunned you're stunned," says Amberly. "I posted party deets all over."

"Ha!" says Alex, staring at her cell. "I got an evite from the U of T party line, with a picture of your room."

"Alex, not helping," sighs Ellie.

"Like you were helpful when I invited you places, when I was trying to fit in?" accuses Amberly. "You are such a sad sack. I was dying for us to have fun together. Then, you yelled at me when I tried to understand your very weird personal life. Sean is the boyfriend, right? Not Marco?"

"Shut up!" snaps Ellie.

"See?" says Amberly. "See how you aaaaaaaaaaaaaaare?"

"You can speak," says Paige after the drawn-out word. "Good for you."

"Hey, Ellie, you know what?" says Amberly.

Ellie narrows her eyes.

"My legs feel like jelly!" cries Amberly, then louder to the crowd. "My legs feel like jelly!"

"Amberly! Amberly! Amberly!" chant a group of four frat guys.

"I'm obsessed," proclaims Alex. "That girl is a true headcase."

They lift Amberly onto their shoulders and travel out of the room. She'd love for Heath to be in that collection but he saddles up to her, smug, an item in his possession. Nope. Her possession. He has Ellie's journal, her boyfriend recognizing his present to her. Sean squares his shoulders.

"I don't suppose there's a dream starring me in here, is there?" questions Heath.

"Only if you're being eaten by a crocodile," seethes Ellie.

"That's way harsh, Tai," jokes Heath. "Amberly told me you got your license. I could've given you...a lot of rides."

"Clam it, Abercrombie and Fitch!" says Marco who, as much as Ellie loves him, wasn't much of an insult guy.

Sean's not into insults. He's into crushing a fist into his palm. But a fight's the last addition this party needs.

"Just give me back the journal," orders Ellie.

"It's thin on ink, anyway," says Heath, taking in Ellie's slim figure. "Except this list about a girl named Ashley? Perhaps we can have a party of our own when she leaves rehab."

"Chump, you've got five seconds," warns Sean.

Heath's lips curl. "Boyfriend?"

"Yep," supplies Ellie.

Heath squares his shoulders as well. You could tell that he finally got he had no shot.

"And that must be why you're not imbibing," says Heath, shrugging it off. "Genetics, right? Don't wanna go down the same road as your drunk mom."

Frat guy scum. Yeah, she wrote about Ashley's intervention and how she hoped that her post-rehab life was as successful as her mom's. But this fool had no clue how seriously Ellie had taken it nor the pain it caused and is still causing her.

Ellie opens her mouth to strike but Sean strikes first. He grabs Heath's arm and puts it behind his back. The journal drops and Alex recovers it. Heath lets out a surprisingly girlish scream.

"That's my hockey arm, man!" wails Heath. "Dylan!"

"You gonna insult her mom again?" yells Sean. "Huh? You've got a mouth. Talk! Are you?"

Sean continues to twist the arm while Heath winces. Dylan says nothing, scratching his neck. The music stops. The crowd waits for what's next.

"No!" replies Heath finally.

"You're getting out of here!" says Sean before turning to the whole party. "You're all getting out of here!"

There's a series of "boos". Sean releases Heath. Heath stumbles to the floor, jumps to his feet. He stares at Ellie for a millisecond and grabs a teammate with his non-sore arm. His teammate guides him out of the door.

"Take me to the hospital!" says Heath. "This has to be checked! I'm up for captain! Captain!"

"It can't be that bad, bro," says his friend. "You're holding the stair banister without flinching."

"Heathie!" cries Amberly. "Where are you going?"

"Ask that...ask that deranged dude, man!" snaps Heath out of their sight.

"But I'm a woman!" says Amberly, drunkenly shuffling inside.

Amberly takes in her leaving guests, the many crushed red cups, a dripping keg, and random trash throughout the room. Some party. Amberly is cleaning this up. The fall-out for both of them? Still to be determined.

"Too bad Amanda wasn't here to see that," says Ellie.

Sean shrugs, with a hint of a grin.

"Party poopers!" cries Amberly, pointing to Ellie and each of her friends.

"Take a dump in your pants," encourages a buzzed Jay.

"Ewwwww!" moans Amberly. "You are jealous, Eleanor Cash...Dash..."

"Nash," provides Paige.

"Where is my thong?" cries Amberly.

"Classic," says Dylan, now not so quiet.

"Hi, Dylan! I am plastered to the maximum!" says Amberly, suddenly cheerful. "I'll deal with you and your gang later, Dash...cause I kinda have to heave."

Grasping for the doorknob, Amberly races to the hall bathroom.

Alex snickers. "I wonder if her puke's pink."

III.

Double destinations: Degrassi and Kytel. Prognosis that he'll make it through today after the events of this morning: Slim. Toby wedges his day planner in between two Kytel-related folders.

"Okay, done," remarks Toby.

H.P. makes a grab for the briefcase handle with his teeth. Toby watches, amused that he believes he can carry all that weight.

"You can carry it to the porch," negotiates Toby.

He doesn't stop to wait for permission. H.P. reaches the porch and drops the case. From afar, Toby spies Officer Wheaton cleaning his rear view mirror, polishing it clean. Right. He's lost his driving privileges. Toby drops to the porch after the case, defeated.

What is he going to tell Manny today? That Justin isn't in custody but one of his cruel cohorts was caught, a boy that was privy to his whereabouts? That he was being held at the jail and would be transferred to the detention center in a few hours? That Toby saw the whole thing go down in less than a half-hour? Toby pulls his jacket around himself. Suddenly, it feels like twenty degrees even if the sun is scorching his neck.

H.P. picks up the briefcase again, trying to decide which car to bring it to, and Toby doesn't have the heart to say anything to him.

"Top of the line service, Tobes," says a faint female voice from the sidewalk.

Toby straightens himself and smiles swiftly. H.P. regards her for a moment but walks right by.

"He's picky about who he pounces on," assures Toby.

"Eh, he has a job to do," says Lucie, joining Toby on the porch. "What's his name?"

"H.P.," answers Toby. "Manny got him for me."

"Is he any trouble?" says Lucie.

"Only the good kind," says Toby. "He's already helped me out today. I wonder if he remembers that."

Bartie may not have provided any leads without being charmed by H.P.'s antics. If only Abel had an ounce of charm. Toby could block out his horrible insults if that were the case. Sergeant Blanchett and Jeff were at the police station even now discussing "the necessary precautions for Toby since Abel represented the possibility of continued danger."

"You look like you're remembering a bunch," points out Lucie, cocking her head. "What's up?"

He sets his briefcase on his lap, not eager to talk. While he's confided in Lucie, it's a hard subject to jump right into.

"Do I really have to work it out of you?" says Lucie.

"Maybe," says Toby.

"Justin," says Lucie simply.

Too simply. Officer Wheaton waves at Toby, holding his watch in front of his forehead. Toby is so not ready to deal with the regular parts of his day, especially without speaking to someone about this.

"They caught this guy in Justin's group," whispers Toby.

"Seriously?" gasps Lucie.

"Seriously," says Toby. "And he's followed me and Manny no matter what we've done. And the stuff he said about her..."

"Can't be repeated," guesses Lucie.

"But Wheaton won't let me go to the station," says Toby. "Dad's there."

"That's probably for the best," offers Lucie. "Hearing more might freak you out."

"Should I tell Manny?" asks Toby wearily. "I mean, this involves her. But if I did, should I go into specifics? That's too harsh, right? Maybe if we hadn't hung out in Toronto they wouldn't have found out she was here."

"You're thinking you shouldn't have?" asks Lucie.

"Or maybe we should be out in the open now," continues Toby. "Even at your pool party, she was begging to spend time together. Manny needs to be safe but she makes a huge effort to be with me. I'm so confused."

Toby puts both elbows on his knees. Perhaps they were too comfortable - himself, Manny, their friends, and their families. He convinced Mr. Santos that Manny was safe. Sure, they suspected Justin's group would figure out Manny was in Toronto eventually. For all their faults, they weren't stupid...when it came to logistics. But he didn't fathom them being a step behind every move. If they tracked them at the doggie shelter, where else? The park? The lantern festival? Rosa's apartment complex? He really liked Rosa and J.J. Would those racists start bothering them? And did they go to the Santoses' family church? Toby's stomach flip-flops.

"She's too vulnerable," speaks up Lucie. "Do yourself a favor. Don't spill the whole truth, Toby."

"Well, of course I'm going to spare her the insults...," begins Toby.

"I mean, more," interjects Lucie. "Do you want her looking over her shoulder the whole time? Her parents to forbid her from seeing you?"

"They wouldn't," says Toby, his throat quivering. "Would they?"

"I'm not them," replies Lucie.

"I have to spill to somebody," confesses Toby. "Or else I'm going to blow up."

"That's what I'm here for," says Lucie, placing a hand on his back. "Manny...she gave me her blessing because we're friends. Because it's the least I can do."

Toby glances at her, startled. He surmised that Manny would be alright with it but to say this outright to Lucie? They weren't exactly getting along, not as much as Toby would like them to be. Manny could be so selfless. And Lucie is so sweet.

"You're top of the line," says Toby.

Lucie blushes. "I try."

"Why have you been AWOL lately?" asks Toby. "Have you disappeared to draft skyscrapers?"

"I wish," says Lucie. "Dad required extra hands at the station and he still thinks he owns all of me so..."

"I miss you lending a hand at Degrassi," says Toby. "Try and make it there soon?"

"Yes, sir," says Lucie with a salute to him.

She salutes H.P. who returns with the suitcase and nudges it until it falls on her foot. He barks happily.

"H.P.!" chastises Toby. "Honestly? I'm sorry, Lucie. He's usually very nice around girls."

"What do you have against me, pup?" asks Lucie.

The "pup" yawns. Perhaps he's tired after everything they've been through this morning.

"Manners weren't built in a day," says Lucie, rubbing her foot. "I'm making it my mission to win him over."

H.P. glances at her apologetically and licks Toby's wrist. Lucie leaves the porch with a final wave to Toby.

"What's wrong with you, huh?" says Toby, settling H.P. into his arms as they walk to the car. "You're a good boy. I shouldn't have to remind you."

IV.

She misses texting, her TV, the locks on her doors, the tiles of her own bathroom...to start. She doesn't miss the alienation, accusations, all-day dizziness, and crafting any excuses...to be sure. She misses the boy terribly. His absence is crystal clear as she sits across from her parents. He wouldn't be combing through pamphlets or checking his work e-mails. Craig would be combing through her mind, which he got without trying too hard, and reading the message that she was ready for this to be done.

Family counselling rears its ugly head once more. When her mom married Jeff, they had sessions in order to make the transition smoother. The result? She tolerated Toby but she figured out how to love him as a brother on her own. She took X and counselling sessions with her mom made a return. The result? No drugs, but years later, a full-blown addiction. When is this junk going to work?

"Must they play that Muzak?" moans Ashley.

Waterfall gushes and wind chimes creep from under Dr. Englecourt's door. A xylophone was trying to cut through the other noise.

"It's soothing," says Kate.

Bite me, wind chimes, thinks Ashley. Dr. Englecourt opens her office. Her tall, slender form is straight in front of Ashley.

"Please come in," says Dr. Englecourt.

Ashley enters the strangest office she's ever seen. There were several displayed degrees and comfy chairs like normal but the walls are a bright shade of purple. There were two magazine racks and a white desk with a coffee machine. Multiple photographs of serene landscapes hung in every corner. The piece de la resistance was a kid, perhaps her son, sticking his tongue out in black and white pictures near the office window. Cute kid but creepy.

"I'd prefer Ashley in the center," says Dr. Englecourt.

Kate sits to the left of Ashley, and Robert and Chris sit on the right. The first annoyance of counselling? You sit for what feels like forever. A fair amount of paperwork rests on Dr. Englecourt's desk. She shuffles them and sits herself.

"We'll be meeting twice a week for the next two days," reminds Dr. Englecourt. "I'll be meeting with your parents while you're at your AA session this afternoon, Ashley. I appreciate all of you rearranging your schedules for this."

"Believe us...we want to be here," assures Kate.

"Today, I'll perform a mental examination, evaluating Ashley's present state of mind," continues Dr. Englecourt.

State of mind? She's exhausted, nervous, and crabby. That's not obvious?

"At what point were you aware of your dependency on alcohol?" asks Dr. Englecourt.

It takes a short beat before Ashley realizes Dr. Englecourt is addressing her. Dependency? Okay, yeah, she drank entirely too much in the latter half of the summer but she wouldn't label it a dependency. Technically.

"Ummm, I wasn't aware," says Ashley. "My drinking got worse when I came home."

She hears Kate stifle a cry and bury her nose in a handkerchief.

"How much were you drinking in England?" asks Dr. Englecourt. "Everyday?"

Ashley clicks her tongue. "Yeah."

"Between the hours of?" says Dr. Englecourt.

"Whenever I felt like it," answers Ashley strongly.

"Settle down, Ash," cautions Robert.

"How am I supposed to remember what happened a month ago?" says Ashley. "I thought you said present state of mind. Right?"

She folds her arms. The sides of Dr. Englecourt's lips turn up. Yeesh, this lady is enjoying this and not hiding that she's enjoying this. Ashley is tempted to read her degrees and Google the universities. Oh wait, she has no phone.

"Can I text after these two days?" asks Ashley.

"No," says Dr. Englecourt. "What settings were you in when you were inebriated?"

Ashley slumps in her chair. "Clubs, the tour bus...is that not specific enough for you?"

"Alright, Ashley," says Kate, turning to her. "When is this attitude going to disappear?"

"In case you forgot, Mom, our family counselling history isn't that hot," asserts Ashley.

"This is about the decisions you made," reminds Kate. "Including coming here so if I were you, I'd listen."

"I just want my phone," mutters Ashley.

Dr. Englecourt sighs and removes a bunch of white cards from her desk. The cards match the color of the coffee table desk.

"These are numbered one to ten," says Dr. Englecourt, showing the numbered cards. "When I say an associative phrase connected to your addiction, you're going to lift a corresponding card, letting me know how you feel about it. For instance, how high would you rate homesickness as a reason to drink?"

When she receives the cards, Ashley spreads them out. Each number is printed in bold black. She learned her numbers early, a year ahead of pre-school, but these appear foreign to her. They're striking, firm in her pupils. Ashley slowly pulls out a two. She catches the expression of relief on Kate's face. She must've thought it meant that Ashley didn't feel that alone over in England. Only she did.

"Pressure to please others?" says Dr. Englecourt.

Ashley takes a deep breath and slides an eight from the pack. Dr. Englecourt nods, writes furiously in her pad. Robert's head falls. He hooked her up with BB6 but she certainly hopes he isn't blaming himself.

"Job security? The tour?"

She doesn't have to go far. A nine is raised. Dr. Englecourt moves her pen for a long spell.

"Relationship problems?" asks Dr. Engelcourt, fetching a new pen.

She restacks the cards. Like she'll reveal that. Like she would be an open book. Like Craig is here to defend himself. Hey, I seduced my boyfriend to avoid a confrontation circled around booze. There you have it. Shrink me. Ashley lays the cards flat on Dr. Englecourt's desk.

"You're not in a relationship?" says Dr. Englecourt with a furrowed brow.

"Pick a card, Ashley," orders Robert softly.

"You guys won't let me contact him or let him be here," remarks Ashley. "Why should I?"

"Pick a card or...," begins Kate.

"No, Mom," says Ashley. "And let's not pretend you three were his biggest fans until he was there for me when you weren't. Craig is the real reason I'm not still at the bar."

Dr. Englecourt taps her chin with her pen.

"I lived at a bar," shares Ashley. "Surprise."

"I have your records," says Dr. Englecourt. "And the thing is, Ashley. You have to be the reason you're here or all this is for nought."

"Duh," says Ashley. "But that doesn't explain why he has to be part of this stupid game."

"No game," affirms Dr. Englecourt.

Ashley lets air stream out of her nostrils. If this isn't a game to get under her skin, what is it?

"To be blunt, most relationships become strained when one of the parties is struggling with addiction," says Dr. Englecourt. "Troublesome for the addict, yes, but increasingly hard for the other person trying to talk the other off the ledge."

"Well, I almost fell off a ledge in London," returns Ashley.

"Oh dear God," whispers Chris.

"I doubt my relationship is that dangerous in comparison," finishes Ashley.

"Were you drunk then?" asks Dr. Englecourt.

"Forget this," says Ashley, standing. "When does AA start? I can't handle your snide smiles and personal attacks, and I'd rather dish it out with a real professional."

"Ashley, stop being a brat and sit!" says Robert as he rises.

"Excuse me for choosing another...what is it, healthy alternative?" snaps Ashley. "At least in AA, there's no putrid purple walls and constant jabs. Tomorrow then?"

"Dr. Englecourt, I apologize," speaks up Kate.

"No," says Dr. Englecourt with a spreading smile. "Let her go to AA. Maybe she'll see who the bad guy really is."

"What's that supposed to mean?" challenges Ashley.

Dr. Englecourt refuses to reply. She puts her cards back in place. The Muzak returns. Ashley walks to the door, her nerves running throughout her body. The bad guy? Who on earth is that?

V.

Nothing to drink but flat punch. Ashley enters the designated room, the last guinea pig in a flourescent-lit cage. There's bottled water on the side, sprinkled cookies, and mini-pastries. She guesses sugar is the substitute for people used to throwing back a few.

A few things about this scene bother Ashley. When she saw AA meetings on T.V., the people were seated in a circle. The same is true for Harmony Hill but the chairs were very close together, almost a fence to avoid anybody finding an escape route. She also wasn't a fan of a chalkboard being placed beside the circle's edge. It read too much like school and she wasn't in the mood to copy notes. Lastly, some of the patients carried these little red chips as if they were heading to a casino later on. She's pretty certain gambling shouldn't be evoked right about now. What are those for?

Ashley stares at her fellow residents. Again, surprisingly young, but nowhere as annoyed as she is. Cybil beckons Ashley over. She's wearing her overalls and tennis shoes. Well, at least she won't have to care about what she wears. Ashley nods, indicating she's going for a snack first. She dips the ladle into the punch bowl, fills her cup.

"This is one of those places where they won't spike the punch," says someone across the table. "Or did they?"

Instant disgust swells in her stomach. The same guy that was in the dining room goes for the ladle.

"Oh, lifeguard for the oranges," says the guy, taking a floating orange slice out of the punch.

"Not funny," dismisses Ashley.

He beams. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

"After lunch, how could I not?" replies Ashley.

"No, I'm talking back," says the guy. "Waaaaay back."

She squints her gaze, evaluating him with sharp eyes, similar to Dr. Englecourt. Dude doesn't ring a bell. He thinks highly of himself so he's probably just teasing her.

"I have to thank you for my music career," continues the guy. "Ashley Kerwin...on piano."

Her punch is nearly dropped. Stalker? Did they not monitor who they let into this place? He's a musician, though. Maybe a fan? The world's most aggravating fan?

The guy smirks. "I switched to guitar. That was my downward spiral."

"Who are you?" demands Ashley.

"The guy who benefitted from you botching your audition."

A botched audition, where she played piano? Whoa, that was way in the past. He had to be...the timpani...

"Grant Yerby," breathes Ashley.

"Fancy meeting you here...at a meeting," says Grant. "This oughta be good."

Ashley keeps her gaze locked on the wood walls until a woman in a wool sweater yells for their attention. Ashley sits next to Cybil, her shin hitting the tightly packed chair legs. The woman is someone she hasn't been introduced to but she glances at Ashley when everyone is seated.

"Let's begin," says the wool-wearing woman.

Everybody scrapes their chairs back, Ashley leaping up at the sound of clatter. They join hands.

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change," recite the patients. "The courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference."

They're praying? Ashley fiddles awkwardly with her strands of purple hair. She wasn't religious, by any means. It wasn't a horrible way to live or anything and she appreciates aspects of religion but she didn't see herself as that sort of person. They sit and Ashley's more than glad. Cybil pats Ashley's leg.

"Before we discuss our weeks, we have a new addition to our group," says the wool-wearing woman. "Please welcome Ashley."

"Hello, Ashley," says the group.

Hello, pod people, she'd love to retort. Nah, they were pretty nice and only following the lame rules.

"Hi," says Ashley.

"I'm Elisabetta and I trust that you'll realize this is a safe space," says the woman. "Our secrets stay in this room. That said, why don't you tell us a little about yourself?"

Ashley cradles her punch on her thigh. "Could I do it later?"

"Sure, whenever you're comfortable," says Elisabetta.

Wow, what a far throw from Dr. Englecourt. Ashley relaxes her posture a bit. Cybil's arm goes skyward.

"Yes, Cybil?" says Elisabetta.

"My name is Cybil, and I'm an alcoholic," says Cybil.

"Hi Cybil," greets the group.

"I told you guys my mom hung up on me a week ago," recounts Cybil. "Well, I took your advice, Elisabetta, and we had a decent chat yesterday. I even apologized for stealing money from her. She's calling me tomorrow."

The group claps, including Grant who gives Cybil a thumbs up. Ashley tries to remove the puzzled look from her countenance. So she isn't the single person who's stolen money for booze? She didn't know why she thought she was...it made sense. Maybe the guilt was clogging her brain or she was that self-involved at the time. Has she apologized to Paige?

"Since Cybil's being brave," says Grant, raising his hand.

"Yes?" says Elisabetta.

"My name is Grant, and I'm an alcoholic," says Grant.

"Hi Grant," says the group, Ashley barely speaking.

"I agreed to regular drug tests once I leave Harmony Hill," says Grant. "I'm eighteen and they needed my permission...and I owe it to my dad."

His statement is met with loud applause including Ashley's. That does sound brave, whatever his story is, and he said it with pride. Ashley wonders if he's addicted to drugs and booze. Her addiction doesn't seem nearly as bad. Ashley bites her lip, raises her hand. Elisabetta's pleased and calls on her immediately.

"My name is Ashley," says Ashley. "And I made it through detox, which was scary, and I'm going crazy not texting but my fingers haven't fallen off yet."

Warm laughter follows her comments and a supportive round of applause. Ashley takes her seat. Grant raises his hand...again?

"You're gabby this afternoon, Grant," comments Elisabetta.

"There was a mistake...in Ashley's statement," offers Grant.

A mistake? Ashley grits her teeth. Is he honestly going to judge a heartfelt comment of hers?

"Ashley, you need to say you're an alcoholic," says Grant. "Right, Elisabetta?"

She doesn't let Elisabetta comment.

"But... I'm... not an alcoholic," says Ashley.

"What are you doing in this room then?" questions Grant.

"I drank a lot over the summer," replies Ashley. "But it's been months, not years. I'm here to get back on track."

Grant whistles. "Back on track? We should all be so lucky."

Ashley won't wilt, especially since she's correct. Grant has cajones if he thinks he can diagnose her in a heartbeat. She doesn't need regular drug tests. She hasn't gone in and out of Harmony Hill a la Cybil. This is a momentary lapse for her. She'll get well soon...soon.

"What's your problem?" cries Ashley. "I'm sorry I tanked my audition and you got into an amazing music academy. You should be thankful!"

"I will be absolutely thankful when you admit you're the same as the rest of us," says Grant.

"Who made you a doctor?" challenges Ashley. "You're just another patient who has to follow these stupid rules and attend these whackjob counselling sessions..."

"Awww, are you mad you can't text your boytoy?" asks Grant.

"No, I'm mad my life sucks now and you're part of the suckage," retorts Ashley.

"News for the wise?" says Grant. "You're cruising towards a break-up. Your relationship is going to be a casualty on the rehab highway."

"A doctor and a psychic!" says Ashley.

"A realist," insists Grant.

"That's it!" cries Elisabetta, Ashley shocked that this woman could be that loud. "This is a meeting, not a boxing match."

"I'm leaving," says Ashley.

Despite the difficulty, she manages to part two chairs and almost falls out of the circle. Supportive environment? Who are they kidding? Grant chuckles. Dr. Englecourt, as much as she hates admitting this, was right. There is a bad guy - Grant.

"Pride goeth before the fall," she hears Grant say as she retreats.

VI.

"That didn't take less than ten hours to rehearse?" questions Toby, flummoxed.

"No way," says Manny as she clicks the replay button. "Two days minimum. You're speaking with the ex-Spirit Squad choreographer."

Bridesmaids and groomsmen get their groove on in the tiny window on Liberty's laptop. Manny searched for epic wedding toasts last night and this symbol of wedding fun materialized. As the wedding party continues to dance, a DJ starts his toast after asking everyone to wave their hands in the air. Manny can see her grin and Toby's matching grin in the shining lower half of the laptop monitor. She likes it a lot.

"My favorite was the pig oinking at the farmer's reception in the barn," says Toby. "The main jist seemed to be I love you...or I oink you."

"I oink you," insists Manny, touching his mouth.

"I oink you, too," says Toby.

They giggle and kiss simultaneously but Manny slows down on her end. Since Toby walked into the hallowed halls of Degrassi today, he's been very weird. It's not a weird that's amazingly noticeable but it goes in and out when they're not speaking. Manny kisses his chest and looks up. Toby continues to lie on the couch though not as relaxed as she would want.

"Are you distracted because we're in a library?" asks Manny. "It's not like Dewey Decimal is a real person who'd snoop on us."

Besides, the study carrels were empty. Officer Wheaton is fiddling with a microfilm machine the new librarian mangled somehow. The door is closed, and no student would dare waste his last days of freedom in the Degrassi School library. Except them...but they're making out.

"It's done by computers nowadays," teases Toby.

"Is it now?" says Manny, melting into him, kissing him anyways.

Why isn't he doing it forcefully, though, normally? Toby's head goes back.

"I should check on H.P.," sighs Toby. "I left him with Emma and I think Spinner was trying to get him on a skateboard."

"Their making up is our gain," sighs Manny. "He's fine."

"Fine," surrenders Toby and he ushers her closer.

Yep, there it is. Toby runs his fingers through her hair, over her ears. Manny whimpers.

"Ahem!" breaks in a male voice.

When they part, Nate is standing in the doorway. Manny could kick him between the khaki pant legs this very second. Instead of Dewey, they have to deal with Nate.

"I posted the final list," shares Nate.

"How did people react?" asks Manny.

"Whooooooooot!" yells another voice. "Just call me Drama Club Danny!"

Danny does two cartwheels behind Nate and bounds off. What was he excited about? He was in Drama Club last year and it's not as if Manny gave him the lead in a production...yet.

"I haven't heard from Liza despite frequent calls to the Hatzilakos home," says Nate.

"You called her twice," clarifies Manny.

"No reply, and this guy?" says Nate, gesturing to himself. "Not surprised."

He walks off cocky and Manny releases a painful sigh. She scoots away from Toby. She'd better call Liza. However, three more people invade the room and halt her chance. Or two people and a dog.

"Oh!" cries Spinner. "I just thought it was Manny in here...hi, Toby!"

Spinner attempts to hide a skateboard behind his back. Emma pats H.P. before he rubs his body against Manny's bare legs. He felt like a moving muff against them.

"Toby told me he spent the whole night with you," coos Manny.

The dog tries to deliver a magazine to Manny but Toby manages to save Scientific American from most of his drool.

"Hatzilakos won't be okay with him being in here," says Toby.

"Excellent," says Emma. "I'm giving H.P. a tour. Come on, boy."

"Keep him off the skateboard, Spinner!" orders Manny.

"He's his own canine, Manny!" bellows Spinner from the hall. "He makes his own choices."

Manny rises from the couch to corner Spinner. She's shocked when Toby lowers her to the cushions again.

"Can I have a second...before we save H.P.?" says Toby.

This must be serious if it's stopping them from that. She won't say no if it means he's finally going to fess up. Manny crosses her legs, her lime green skirt shifting and her matching cotton shirt ruffling. Toby winds an arm around her waist, soft but affectionate.

"This morning, I went to Justin's neighborhood and they found somebody," says Toby without eye contact.

Who did they find? She wriggles on top of the cushion, not certain it's there anymore.

"Not Justin," clarifies Toby, answering her next question. "His name's Abel, and...he's in custody so you don't have to worry."

Manny says the only thing she can utter. "How?"

"Eli hired this private investigator to locate Justin," shares Toby. "Abel was trying to get money out of him."

"So he has an idea where Justin is!" cries Manny.

"He does," says Toby and electing to look at Manny then.

She puts a hand against her heart, the organ shuddering underneath. This seems impossible...not real. But it's Toby telling her this. They're close, aren't they? Close to ending this. Manny wonders if she should wipe the happy tears from her eyes, wonders if they're premature. She registers Toby watching her tears as they fall.

"I don't think I should say anymore," says Toby, dropping his gaze.

Manny shakes her head. "Why not?"

"You're crying," says Toby.

"That's not allowed?" exclaims Manny, drawing Officer Wheaton's attention.

Toby moves on the couch. "Never mind."

"What else is there, Toby?" whispers Manny. "Isn't this what we hoped for? What did Abel tell them? What aren't you telling me?"

"Never mind," repeats Toby.

"Do I have to keep asking questions that begin with what?" continues Manny. "Like what's going on with you?"

Silence greets her as Toby bends, covering his face with his arms. Manny bends to her knees on the carpet. She puts her head against his, her nose on his hair. He sobs into his knees.

"Toby?" says Manny.

"You told me I didn't have to tell you everything," is what Manny can detect out of his barely audible sobs.

She wishes she hadn't promised that, particularly in this moment, particularly since it's breaking him in two. As luck would have it, this is the moment when Toby's cell vibrates. Manny believes it's another sob at first but she sees the screen of his phone glowing. Toby recovers long enough to read the caller's name.

"My dad," says Toby.

"I'll drive you to the station," says Officer Wheaton.

Toby rises.

"Me too," says Manny.

"No," says Officer Wheaton. "Patton's already checked the perimeter. The school's a safe zone if ever there was one."

"Shouldn't we feel more safe?" exclaims Manny. "Toby?"

"We have to go," says Toby, kissing her lightly and passing her.

Manny rubs her forehead until they leave the library. This is insane. When are they going to stop protecting her? Justin is inches away from being caught and she has to sit here and what, watch pig toasts? She thunders out of the library, an eye out for Officer Patton. She doesn't even stop when she sees H.P. whizzing on a skateboard in the far corridor.

"Spinner, no!" she hears Emma call out.

She'd scold him. Manny knew that. Officer Patton is fitting two new batteries into his walkie-talkie. Manny stands by him.

"Dad needs me home," lies Manny. "Wedding stuff. Let's go."

Officer Patton runs after her in a mad dash to J.J.'s car. They speed off, Manny intent on her route, growing calmer when she views Officer Wheaton and Toby on their way to the police station.

"Manny Santos!" groans Officer Patton. "Where are we going? Wait 'til your father..."

"Can we press pause on the lecture?" waves off Manny.

They were going fast but she keeps two cars behind them. When they arrive a minute after Officer Wheaton, Manny parks and hops out.

"We're pretty far from home!" says Officer Patton with an accusing glance.

"You should've told me what was going on," defends Manny.

A street painter eyes the agitated duo but resumes painting a yellow line for an additional parking space. Toby's just about to go through the station door with his father until a pack of people scramble through the door.

"The sergeant said you moved him already!" cries Officer Wheaton.

"He was being difficult!" returns Officer Hsu.

The boy, who couldn't be more than seventeen, struggles as he's lead to a waiting car by Officer Hsu and another officer. He's skinny as a pole with hard cheekbones. His wide gaze focuses on Manny. Abel. This has to be him. Toby's gaze is on Manny as well. He leads Manny to the side while Manny takes in Abel's handcuffs and brown jumpsuit.

"Why are you here?" whispers Toby in alarm.

"Island girl! Island girl!" yells over Abel. "Can't keep her coconuts covered or offline!"

"Back off!" shouts Toby.

Manny turns away. He's older than Justin, colder too. Abel smirks, almost bumping into the street painter.

"Bam! Bam! Bam!" says Abel, pretending to thrust into something. "Porking the Filipino! Porking the Filipino! I thought you were kosher, bro."

"Bro this!" yells Toby.

He storms towards Abel who bends just as easily as Toby did on the couch. Abel darts out of the officers' hold. Despite his handcuffed hands, he lifts the small can of paint and tosses the contents. Over Toby, though a bit finds Toby's shoulderblades. Toby looks at him as if he's missed his mark. Manny knows, though. He was aiming for her. He hates her. Everyone gasps but Toby who attempts to cover her as Abel shakes out the last bits from the can. Manny feels the frigid liquid cross her neck, her breasts, the whole length of her. She cries out, not clear what sound she made.

"That's how we were marked by Hitler, with a disgusting yellow star!" exclaims Abel. "That's what you are, you hacktress! Go screw your own!"

Manny covers her ears while Jeff blocks the boy from Manny and his son.

"It started with a push and I'll end it with one!" assures Jeff. "If you weren't a kid, I'd knock the life out of you!"

Abel raises his two middle fingers to Jeff.

"One for you, and one for every night you plow your fug French-Canadian wife," says Abel.

Jeff lands a fist against Abel's jaw. Toby releases an intake of breath. Abel chuckles and claps as he's shoved roughly into the cruiser by Officer Hsu.

"Standing ovation, old man!" calls Abel from the cruiser.

Jeff crumples, falls to the curb and starts to cry.

"I...I hit a child," he says in a daze.

The cruiser takes off after a stern warning from Officer Wheaton, a warning Manny can't hear as she releases sound after sound. The sounds are not identifiable or loud or ending anytime soon. Toby ushers her inside the station, quiet as he was before. The paint on them hits the station floor and coats the lines inside.