You are all amazing. I'm so overwhelmed by the response to this little story. Especially the last chapter, which I was so nervous about. Thank you for easing my fears. This new bit was even more stressful to produce. I really hope you like it. It's different: angstier, for better or worse, and monstrously long—I'll warn you of that now. But hopefully still true to the story.

maybe-joleisaa inspired Macy's choice of sports from this chapter. And Davis is borrowed from xo. vicki .xo's story, "In Training." (I hope that's ok, Vicki? If not I'll change it, promise.)

Part IV

"let me look at you. well, you're not as well turned out as I'd like.

still, there's time. there's time."

--Mary Poppins

From the way Nick yelled at him yesterday, you'd think the only thing Joe cared about was girls. Ridiculous! Lots of things mattered to Joe—style, coordination, puff cheetos. The band.

Sure he liked girls. What was wrong with that?

Honestly, he loved it when girls played hard to get. He found the chase—the hunt for something worth working for—fun, exhilarating even. The problem was the actual prize usually failed to keep his interest. Never what he was hoping for, you know? Like running this amazing marathon, only to find you've won a plastic figure of a shoe lace instead of a trip to the world series. Disappointing, I guess is the word.

Whatever. That's not the point.

The point is that Nick called him an "emotional train wreck who looks for solace in vapid, shallow girls and then wonders why all his relationships feel empty."

It's a mouthful, right? Well, that's Nick for ya. Never one to mince words.

Joe can't exactly hold it against him. Nick's the one member of the family everyone knows not to alienate. He's the breadwinner after all. Without Nick's songs and musical genius, Joe would be stuck in a Jersey public school, flipping burgers at the Caddy Shack for chump change. Shudder.

So yeah he'd forgiven his brother for what he'd said. Really. But something about the words still stung—leaving a kind of residual tingle. Like how what you say, even in a rage, still has this grain of truth.

.

"just this once, please?"

--Jane

"It's a bazillion degrees outside--why doesn't anyone want to take me for ice cream?!" Frankie sat with his arms crossed in front of him, baseball cap shifted to the side. He could pout like nobody's business.

"I thought mom was going to take you." Toting his baby brother around town on the last day of summer break wasn't exactly on Joe's top list of priorities.

"She got an order for a design."

"Dad?"

"Out."

"Nick and Kevin?"

"Music. And something with hedgehogs and paint supplies."

Joe grumbled. He didn't want to know.

And if he was being honest, both Nick and Kevin had picked up the pace on their brotherly duties lately. He'd seen Kevin throwing a ball around with Frankie just that morning and he was pretty sure he'd heard Nick reading to him last night. Either that or he was explaining the history of pirates. Either way, it left Joe the odd one out. And meant he'd have to take his turn today. Argh. Of all the days.

"Alright, let's go," he said, sighing.

"Sweet!"

But if Joe was going to do a good deed, there was no reason not to have a little fun while at it, right? He sent a text to Veronica, an artist-type girl he'd been meaning to call. She was the epitome of classy and chic: beautiful—with her shoulder length dark hair and bright red lips—and confident. Not aloof, exactly; but she knew how cool she was. He'd like to see Nick call her anything but amazing.

.

"and just how much money do you have, young man?"

--Scary bank teller

The bells on the door rattled at The Candy & Ice Cream Emporium, but the sound was the last thing you noticed in the florescent pink and green striped store. Shelves and shelves of every candy imaginable—licorice, tootsie rolls, large and small jawbreakers, gummy worms. And at the back of the shop was the ice cream parlor—43 of the wackiest flavors known to man. Basically, kid-heaven.

Veronica and a friend were seated and waiting, their black mini-skirts and tailored shirt blouses a contrast against the store's more neon peppermint coloring.

Joe approached their table with his usual swagger. "Well, hello beautifuls."

Veronica rolled her eyes. "Nice to see you too, Lucas. It's about time you called. I was starting to think you weren't man enough."

Frankie was getting antsy beside him. "Joe—aren't we gonna get ice cream now?"

"Yeah, we are. Just give me a second while I say hi to these lovely ladies." Joe lifted his brows suggestively.

Frankie crossed his arms sullenly. 'Hi' was going to take a while; he could tell. Especially when his brother pulled up a seat from the next table over and sat down.

"I'm gonna check out the candy."

"Go for it, kiddo." Joe pulled out a twenty, feeling extra generous—no doubt remembering that girls liked guys who weren't tight with their money—and handed it to Frankie.

Frankie's eyes went wide. "Can I get—"

"Sure, sure, get whatever you want."

Frankie took his brother's money before he could change his mind and reached for the first candy-grab-bag he could find, ready and willing to fill it with every sugar-coated goodie that would fit inside.

Joe turned back to the girls, leaning forward over their table. "So, tell me V. Whatcha been up to?"

.

"sometimes a person we love, through no fault of his own, can't see past the end of his nose."

--Mary Poppins

Veronica smirked at his tone, still the picture of sophistication. "Katy and I finished a mural for UUAC."

"UUAC?"

Katy scoffed. Apparently it shouldn't need an explanation. "Underground Urban Art Culture. They're revolutionizing art as we know it."

Joe would have asked why art needed to be 'revolutionized' to begin with but his attention diverted to the rattling door, where girl after girl in sweaty fuchsia and yellow uniforms filtered in.

Katy snickered. "Oh look, it's the badminton team. Just what every school needs."

"I think they're tennis players."

"Whatever. Same thing."

Joe's gaze zeroed in on a girl with dark hair, pulled back in a braid and his nose twitched. Macy saw him too and waved happily.

He waved back, a little more casually.

"You know her?" Katy asked, almost disapprovingly.

"Yeah. Sort of."

Veronica narrowed her eyes and smiled. "Oh that's right. Isn't that the girl who faints every time she sees you? Stacy or something. Always throwing herself at you."

Katy laughed. "A JONAS groupie? Why am I not surprised."

"No, it's not like that," he said, not wanting them to get the wrong idea. "I mean she's a fan. A huge fan that gets excited easily but she's not a—"

By this time Frankie had filled up his bag to its maximum candy capacity, dropping handfuls into his mouth as he was walked away.

Veronica's voice was soft and soothing. Joe loved the sound of it—almost smoke-like—rolling off her tongue. "You don't have to get defensive, Joe," she said. "It's not your fault. Though you probably encourage that kind of behavior in girls."

Frankie was still stuffing candy in his mouth, on his way back to his brother's table when he noticed the team of tennis players sitting by the window. "Mary!" he said, breaking into a gallop.

He tripped a little on the back of a woman's purse and felt something hard catch in his throat. He stopped in place –rigid-- and clutched his hands to his neck.

Joe was still trying to memorize the sound of Veronica's voice when Katy sat up a little straighter.

"Joe—"

"Hmph?" Katy kind of annoyed him, but he'd put up with her if it meant keeping V around.

"Isn't that your brother?"

Joe turned around in his seat, looking for Frankie.

"I think he's choking."

All the blood drained from Joe's face. He could barely register the words. Choking? He was just there two seconds ago.

Joe got up in a rushed daze, registering the scene in chaotic slow motion: Frankie's rosy cheeks discoloring into a pale blue. Small hands tightening around his throat. Horrible hacking noises coming from his mouth. Oh the sound!

Joe was at his brother's side—feeling more helpless than he'd felt in his entire life. He didn't know what to do! He grabbed Frankie's shoulder—looking straight into his wet panicking eyes.

Joe felt acid burning in his chest, the bile hovering in his throat. What if--?

He couldn't even imagine it. He'd never forgive himself. What was he supposed to do?!

Joe didn't know if it was the stress of the moment but the whole thing seemed like a scene from a movie. Or a nightmare. One where you aren't the hero or even a good guy, just the useless twerp who does nothing while the whole world crumbles in front of you.

Suddenly he felt someone shoving him out of the way. The motion knocked over a row of chairs and people started standing in a clamor.

Macy's braid thudded against Joe's face and she took Frankie out of his grip.

She looked him straight in the face and sternly ordered him to "Calm down! I mean it Frankie. Now."

And he did, closing his eyes in pain.

She moved nimbly, gripping his chest while standing behind him. Making a fist with one hand and placing it on his stomach, she brought back her other hand for a powerful squeeze-thrust.

Frankie gasped.

And Macy did it again. And again. Until soon he was hacking out whatever was caught in his throat.

She held out her hand and he spit into it.

She shook her head disapprovingly. "Jawbreakers, Frankie? Really? You know better."

He hugged her, not looking the least bit sorry.

.

"is anything the matter?"

"i'm afraid there is."

--Mrs. And Mr. Banks

Joe Lucas had never been so crippled by emotion in his entire life. It was the residual effects of fear in its purest form. In two seconds his baby brother could have—could have died. All because he was so wrapped up in his own little world that he didn't notice what was right in front of him. He didn't notice the important things.

It sickened him to think of what could have happened.

Right now he could be standing in front of his mother, having to say that her youngest son had stopped breathing--and would never breathe again. Would anything be worth living for after that? Would anything matter?

His family would never recover. And neither would he.

"Joe, why are you so quiet? It's weird."

Joe looked at Frankie, turning the car onto their street. "Sorry. I'm just thinking."

"Are you mad about the jawbreakers? I shouldn't have got them. I know I'm not supposed to."

"No," Joe shook his head. "I'm not mad."

There was an awkward silence as Joe continued to drive. The radio was off. It started to rain. He flipped on the wipers, watching the back and forth motion mindlessly.

"What happened to your friends? The girls."

"Huh? Oh I think they went home. I'm not sure."

Frankie was worried about his brother. He'd never seen him so out of it. For almost an hour, he just sat in a chair in the candy shop-- in a kind of unresponsive daze. Finally, Frankie told him they should go home. It was getting late. Joe had nodded his head, picked up his jacket and headed towards the door. Frankie wished Mary hadn't had to leave. She would've known what to do.

Joe looked at him intently for the hundredth time that night. "You're sure you're okay?"

Frankie rolled his eyes. "Yes! I'm okay already."

"If I'd lost you, I—I don't know what I'd do."

"Why would you lose me? I'm right here." Frankie wondered sometimes how he got stuck with the strangest brothers in the world.

Joe nodded his head, still frowning, and reached one hand out to ruffle Frankie's hair. "Okay, little bro. But just so you know—things are gonna change. I'm going to try and start seeing things for what they are."

Frankie had no idea what his brother was talking about. And he thought it best not to ask.

.

"never judge things by their appearance. even carpetbags."

--Mary Poppins

Joe Lucas was in no way a scientist. But he recognized that sometimes the only way to learn is to conduct an experiment.

It was Stella who gave him the idea, believe it or not. He'd told her he needed a wakeup call. He wanted to start seeing things clearly.

"What kind of things?"

"Everything—people. Life."

"Are you feeling alright? This doesn't sound like you."

"I know it doesn't. That's the problem. Nick says I've lost touch with what matters—and he's right. I care about the wrong kind of people. The wrong kinds of things. I never see what's right in front of me."

"That's a hard one. Especially since as long as you're Joe Lucas, member of mega-popular JONAS, people aren't going to show you who they really are. Not at first anyway."

And that was why he was attending the first day of his junior year at Horace Mantis as Stewart McColough, nerd extraordinaire.

Joe had left the house at five that morning to enlist the help of a makeup artist, one who he'd met on the tour. With some carefully placed facial prosthetics, a blonde hairpiece and a pair of bottleneck glasses—he looked nothing like himself.

He rode the school bus (something a Lucas hasn't done in three years) cheerfully, despite having to dodge a few spitballs. If this wasn't a masterful plan, he didn't know what was.

But things took a sour turn when he exited the bus and someone—a very large football player with Davis plastered across his jersey—tripped him. On purpose.

"such behaviour! well, it's the most disgraceful sight i've ever seen,

or my name isn't mary poppins."

Joe was shocked more than anything else. What was that about? He went to reach for his glasses but Davis stopped him, snatching them up before he could.

Davis laughed derisively. "Look at what we have here, everybody. Fresh meat."

Joe was very confused. When you've never encountered a bully on your own—it's not something you're prepared for. And Joe had never been bullied in his life. Partly, because he was cool; but mostly because he always had his brothers to back him up. No matter what.

He got up slowly from the concrete, shocked that people found this funny.

Davis held the glasses just out of his reach. Technically, he didn't need them to see. Obviously. But it was the point of the matter. Those were his ugly glasses and this jerk had no business with them.

"Did I say you could get up, newbie?"

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Oh, I see. A jokester. Haven't had one of those in a while." Davis smiled and with one quick punch to the face—knocked Joe flat on the ground again.

Ow. Joe rubbed his tailbone. That was gonna smart. He could taste the blood mixing makeup on the corner of his mouth.

By now a small crowd had formed, some people eager to watch the spectacle—others less so. Joe watched Veronica and Katy walk by without so much as a second glance. He could almost hear their sarcastic commentary from his position on the cold ground.

Joe was done with this experiment. Done with all of it! Five minutes and he'd learned all he needed to—people are dirt bags. They don't care about you unless you have something they want. And you know what? He'd had enough. He was going to beat the crap out of this Davis guy if it was the last thing he did. Sure, he'd never thrown a punch in his life. But right now he was so angry he could take on a truck.

Joe tightened his fist, getting ready to tackle meat-brain in one swoop. But someone interrupted them.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Oh no.

Davis turned around but even before he did Joe could make out Macy Misa's profile--standing with one hand on her hip, the other gripping a hockey stick.

"Just havin' a little fun."

Macy's gaze hardened and Joe felt his heart stop. What was she doing? He could deal with being beaten up, content with trying his best to pulverize the guy, but he couldn't stand watching her get pulled into this too. He took a breath.

Macy didn't miss a beat. "This is not my idea of fun." She walked forward, smacking her hockey stick into her palm, and the crowd moved out of her way, encircling her.

Davis chuckled uncomfortably, not knowing what to make of it. He could take her on—obviously. She'd be a pancake under his weight. But picking on a girl in front of half the school was a lot different than messing around with a newbie nobody cared about. He was willing to laugh it off.

But it turns out Macy had no intention of backing down. She ripped into Davis like he was wood on a chopping block, her cheeks flushing red in righteous indignation. "If I see you so much as lay one hand on anybody who can't give it right back to you, you'll wish you'd never set foot at this school. In fact, I'll risk sounding cliché to tell you the truth: you'll wish you were never born--"

Joe's mouth hung open, if only because he'd never expected sweet and innocent Macy to describe her intentions of boiling a football player in a vat of hot oil and feeding his remains to a pack of Chihuahuas. And that was the less colorful of her expressions.

Davis, not quick enough for trash talk, had enough. He shoved her away—and Joe moved to pummel him into the ground, but Macy beat him to it. With one sweeping swing of her hockey stick—straight to Davis' knees—she had him writhing in pain. If Davis had plans of getting up, he changed them at the sight of eighteen members of the girl's hockey team—now standing behind Macy like Amazon warriors, their long hair blowing in the wind.

Joe couldn't think of anything more beautiful.

"when mary holds your hand, you feel so grand;

your heart starts beatin' like a big brass band"

--Bert

Joe locked the door behind him as he entered. He was lucky his parents were away. He'd had a hard enough time explaining his 'absence' at school to his brothers and Stella.

It had taken hours to scrub off his alter ego. Sure enough, with the last layer of makeup removed from his face—he had marked blue bruising on his left cheek. But now, with Kevin and Nick doing a Burger King promotion he'd have the house to himself. A few moments of much needed peace.

The house was dark, except for a light in the TV room. He approached it.

Sprawled out on one end of the couch was Frankie—curled into a sleeping ball, his thumb in his mouth. On the other side, to Joe's surprise, was Macy. She was sleeping too—her head draped over one arm. Gravity pulled down the sleeve on her purple nightshirt, exposing her bare shoulder. And the blue light from the dvd screensaver cast jumping shadows on her skin.

Joe sat on the coffee table, staring in awe. He couldn't decide if he should cover her with a blanket and let her sleep. Or give into the temptation to trace his fingers along those dancing shadows etched into her skin. Maybe he could do both?

He swallowed.

And she stirred—disoriented. The Lucas' weren't supposed to be home until morning. "What's going on?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

"Just admiring the view."

She looked around the room for what he might mean. And then stopped, understanding dawning on her. She blushed despite herself. "I guess I fell asleep. Not the best babysitter am I?"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure you are. The best, I mean."

Joe was ashamed that it took Macy sleeping on his couch to realize who she was. Macy. Mary. It wasn't that much of a stretch. Ha! Who was he kidding? It was crazy; but in Frankie's mind it probably sense. And if Joe hadn't been so blind to everything for so long he might've picked up on it sooner. But he got it now--the last piece of the puzzle that was the amazing Macy Misa. Sweetheart. Fan. Amazon warrior. EMT. Defender of the weak. Purple lacy underwear. He smirked at that thought. He couldn't help it.

Macy shifted positions, nervously covering her shoulder up with her sleeve. Joe frowned.

And then she gasped, noticing for the first time.

"Joe, are you ok? Your cheek is all bruised." She reached over, brushing her fingers along the corner of his mouth. And the look on her face—not flirtatious or playful—but genuine horror. Like seeing him hurt was the worst thing she could imagine. Joe thought he could've kissed her in that moment and died happy and fulfilled.

But Frankie stirred. And Macy looked over.

"I should put him to bed."

"It's alright, Mace. I'll carry him up."

Joe scooped his brother into his arms. Frankie woke up, bleary eyed. He ignored his brother to address Macy. "I forgot to tell you, Mary. I need you to fix Joe. He's broken—" But a long yawn stopped him from saying anymore. And soon he was back to sleeping in his brother's arms.

Note: I think the next chapter will be the last; the cat's out of the bag and I've run out of Mary Poppins quotes. But I think I can squeeze out one last hurrah for a Macy chapter. It's only fair, right?

Please send me any and all of your thoughts. I thrive on them like you wouldn't believe.