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It's medium-late on a weeknight when Sammy's phone rings.  It's Sylvia, who's sitting in her bedroom in front of her computer, googling like mad and writing notes on pink ink on a Hello Kitty pad.

Sammy is sitting at her family's kitchen table, trying to study math notes and eat dinner at the same time.  She was at rehearsal until very late, and just got home a little while ago.   Dinner is a warmed up bowl of leftover stew, a chunk of bread and butter, and a big glass of milk all of which magically appeared on the table in front of her about 5 minutes after she walked through the door.

She swallows most of the food in her mouth and answers the phone, afraid she's going to have to dash out to chase down who knows what.  "Hey Sylvia.  Whashup?"

"Hey, sorry to bother you," Sylvia says in that insincere way which isn't, perhaps, typical to her but typical to her age group.  "I was wondering, you're a weather person, right?  You know something about weather?"

"Not really.  I watch Tracy Butler* in the morning just like everybody else.  I can do stuff with air, if thats what you mean, but I don't know what I can  do with the weather..."

*http://abclocal.go.com/wls/story?section=bios&id=3396531 (http://abclocal.go.com/wls/story?section=bios&id=3396531)

"Aw, crud.  I was hoping you could answer this burning question I have.  Toilet water--" Sylvia begins.  "Toilet water is supposed to go, like, clockwise in the northern hemisphere and counter-clockwise in the southern hemisphere.  At least, that's what Ginny's been telling me.  So I figure there's got to be some point of equilibrium, right?  Neither clockwise, nor counter-clockwise but just . . . dunno."

There is a moment of dead silence on the other end of the phone.  Then a tired but concerned voice says, "Syl, are you okay?  Use the safe word if you're not, and I'll come get you."

There is no safe word.

"Pff," Sylvia says.  "It's a legitimate question, an important issue in toilet science.  I mean, if water goes straight down the hole at the equator, is it more efficient?  Less efficient?  If you have to flush twice at the equator, imagine how much water you could save if you made it illegal to have an equatorial toilet."

More silence, then "Maybe it just sloshes back counter to the earth's rotation.  All toilets have to be installed so that they're lower on the west side, otherwise the paper doesn't go down.  And its not on the equator, at least not on the map equator, that neglects the fact that the earth isn't a perfect sphere.  Local gravity probably has a wonky effect on it too, but I don't know how.  Why?  Do you want to go to Panama and do a toilet survey?"

"No.  But I started looking online and found some stuff about the Coriolis effect and couldn't quite get my head around it.  So I thought I'd call the closest thing to an expert I knew.  It's not important, I guess.  It's just, I was obsessing."

Sylvia tears her attention away from the screen in front of her.  "So how're things going?  Colin was saying something about how you were going to sing."

"I don't know.  We could always try flushing a toilet while I try to set up a countering wind over it, and see if they'll cancel each other out."  Sylvia can hear the sounds of a refrigerator door opening, and things being moved around inside.  "Aw man!" Sammy mutters.  "The cake is gone."  She straightens up.  "Colin was talking about the Winter Concert.  It seems that I can sing; I think it must be related to my powers somehow, another air control thing.  It feels like I'm using powers when I really push it.  But yeah, I'll be doing a duet with Nick Hurley.  He's really good."

"You got all your costumes and stuff set up?  Ginny was saying something about green face paint, but I wasn't sure if that was her or you, the way she was talking.  Mom sews," Sylvia says, trying to be helpful.

"Actually... we could use help there, so yeah, that would be great.  Ginny was partly right; the song is from the play "Wicked" and the female part is sung by the green Wicked Witch of the West.  Except it turns out she's really not an awful person, just on the wrong side of power.  She and a handsome prince are in love, but its doomed before it ever gets a chance to even start, and this is the song they sing at the one moment they actually have with each other.  It's a pretty intense song.  Anyhow, Colin had some good ideas.  He thought that I should have a costume and lighting that represented Fire, while Nick gets a costume and blue lights like ice, and at the beginning of the song it looks like we'll destroy each other when we touch, because you know its going to happen, but instead when it happens, the light from the fire hits the prisms in the ice, and makes something even more beautiful.  So we need fire and ice costumes.  We have some basic, simple ideas but if your Mom wants to flex her muscles, that'd be great!  We're rehearsing every lunch and every afternoon and evening after school if you want to come by... but I guess you know that, since Ginny's there.  Your sister is really nice."

"I'll ask Mom about it.  As for Ginny being nice, yeah. . . . "  Sylvia stretches that last word out like she's not sure whether to let it lie or not.  "She's the kind of person who either loves you or hates you.  It has to be one or the other, and sometimes you can start out on one list in the morning and wind up on the other list in the evening.  I guess it's not dramatic enough just to like someone.

"I forget.  You have a sister, right?"

"Yeah, Stephanie.  She's the same way, but she's been better since I started dating Elrod.  I guess it gave me cool points.  Ginny's probably just being nice to me because of El or because I'm singing with Nick; I haven't done anything special otherwise."

Sylvia winces a little, scolding herself.  "I didn't mean that Ginny's being nice to you because she wants something.  I just meant that Ginny's passionate.  I'm starting to think she gets a kick out of swinging from emotional state to emotional state.  And she's a chronic flirt, which gets her in trouble, but it's weirdly harmless.  I think she flirts for the attention.  She doesn't really want a boyfriend per se, just an audience."  Nevermind Greg.

There's a moment in which Sylvia wonders if she's overstepping her bounds before she says, "This Shipman thing.  It would totally wig me out.  If you find yourself stressing out about it, give me a call.  Give someone a call.  We can bitch, or eat ice cream, or whatever it is you're supposed to do before you go totally super-villain and drop this chick in the middle of Miracle Mile at rush hour."

"I hadn't thought of that one yet.  Thanks!  I was totally stuck on dropping her headfirst into a large body of very deep, very cold water, about a mile off shore, and letting her swim for home.  Blindfolded. During a blizzard."  Sammy sighs.  "I'm not worried about Elrod, not much.  I'm more worried about what she might try."

"Right.  This sense that someone is encroaching on your territory."  Sylvia's thoughts flash to something Donnie said.  "But. . . .

"Okay.  I'm not talking about you, right?  I don't want you to get the impression I'm trying to say something obliquely about your situation.  I'm talking generalities.

"Say you've got a guy who has a girlfriend.  Say the guy has told the girlfriend that, if another guy were to show interest in her, he'd have a hard time, a really hard time, fighting down his instinct to do bodily harm to that other guy.  Is that weird?  Should the girlfriend worry?"

"It would make me nervous, but I could sympathize with the strength of the emotion.  I guess it depends on if the guy is otherwise rational."

"Do you feel that way about El?"  Sylvia pauses and apologizes.  "Now I am talking about you, specifically.  Are you caught up in him enough that you'd hurt someone who tried to snipe him?"

Sammy answers slowly.  "No.  I wouldn't be happy about it, but... if it happened, he'd be the one with the choice to make, not me.  I would hope that he'd choose me, and I'd try really hard to convince him that I was the one he wanted, but if he didn't... well, why would I want to be anybody's second choice?"

Sylvia seems relieved, a little.  "Me, too.  Sometimes I wonder if that means I'm not as in love as another person."

She clicks to a page and scans it, then sounds disappointed.  "Oh.  Bummer.  The thing about the Coriolis effect and toilet bowls is a myth.  There goes my Nobel."

Sammy tries to paste a British accent over her Chicago one.  "Daahmn!  Theah goes my trip to Pah-nah-mah".

She thinks about what Sylvia said about maybe not being "as in love" as another person.  "If I tell you something, promise not to get all High School Romance Twoo-Wuv-Forevah! on me?  Maybe I wouldn't get that way about El because... because he's been a stroke of luck from the beginning.  I never expected it to get even this far.  I always figured that someone older or prettier or more entertaining would come along and that would be that, so I've been mostly just trying to enjoy it while it lasts and not worry too much about the future.  My folks keep shaking the "He's Older!  He's going to Break Your Heart!  Beware!" tree like they think I don't know its not going to last forever.  I don't think they get that I know that, and that I'm not thinking about forever, just about today and maybe a little into next week?  So yeah, I like him a lot, and probably even love him, but... I'm taking what I get and as long as I'm happy and he's happy, I'm not asking for anything more or less than that?"

"That's a healthy attitude, but I think you're underrating yourself.  Unless El is a total creep--and he doesn't have that vibe--he's stuck on you because you're you, you know?  There's something special about you that makes him happy."

Sylvia sounds bemused.  "Sometimes I think Donnie doesn't get that.  He doesn't get that he's funny or that it's cool the way he gets all excited about games or stories.  I think he thinks he's ugly or something.  He gets jealous, which is kind of flattering and insulting at the same time.  But you get stuck on a person, you know?  You get into the way they smell, the way they sound, the things they do to make you laugh, the color of their eyes.

"Sorry," she apologizes.  "I was wandering into the mush.  I'll turn back now."

"S'allright.  And I'm not underestimating myself.  There was absolutely no reason for a non-pervy senior boy to look twice at me, so that was luck right there in a couple of different directions.  I... I just keep half expecting him to get bored with me for some reason, or to get frustrated by all the rules."  She mutters "I know I get plenty frustrated."

"Me, too," Sylvia admits.  Then she lays the blame.  "Donnie's shy."

"El... makes sure we always have company of one kind or another.  Some are more obviously chaperones than others.  I mean, its nice that he respects me and I'm safe and know he likes me for me and all that, but..."  An exasperated noise escapes her.  "That's why I worry about girls like Torrance.  They're older, so it doesn't matter so much about him being 18, and if he's feeling frustrated too..."

[Sorry.  Somewhere between Rosedale and Honolulu I forgot it was my turn.]


"If he gives into that kind of thing, he wasn't worth the trouble.  That's what Mitzi would say, anyway."  Sylvia pauses.  "Although suddenly I wonder how my mom's even qualified to give boy advice."

"She reads a lot?"  Sammy laughs.  "Hey, um, I'm sorry I bit Donnie's head off the other day.  There were girls whispering about me in the bathroom earlier and it got to me.  I need to grow a thicker skin."

"I am not my boyfriend's keeper," Sylvia says as if reciting a cross-stitched proverb, "but as far as I know, Donnie's already forgotten.  He shoots his mouth off sometimes.  I don't think he means to offend anybody, but somehow he manages, and just as easily he puts it behind him.  I guess it might be because, when his parents fight, it's like an F5 tornado.  Everything else is just balmy weather to him."

Sammy sounds relieved.  "OK then.  Since I'm not around as much, its tough to tell if things are okay or not."

"You're not around, but you're missed," Sylvia says.  "Our numbers are dwindling.  The grown-ups are conspiring to separate us.  Your parents haven't said anything about moving, have they?"

"Only if it becomes necessary to find cover in the Witness Protection Program.  If I behave myself that shouldn't happen."

"I can't believe we're already coming up on winter break.  For a while I thought some of us had plans to go somewhere.  We were talking about Iceland to see somebody Donnie's supposed to meet.  And Colin keeps mumbling something about Arizona.  Now winter break's here, and I've got this restless urge to go somewhere but no plans.  I guess we should hang around, though.  We've got Jack in town and my friend and his girlfriend and probably Donnie and Dylan coming over."  She thinks it over, and her tone changes.

"You know, maybe Christmas in Chicago won't suck after all."

"Phew!  For a second there I was afraid you were going to ask me to persuade El to get a corporate jet and take us all somewhere."

"We always spend Christmas in Chicago.  You should come over to my house during break.  My mom has been baking and freezing cakes and cookies for weeks now, and my folks almost always have some sort of open house party sometime between Christmas and New Years."

"Corporate jet," Sylvia says coaxingly.  "Baked goods.  Two great tastes that taste great together.  I don't know where I'd want to go, but it'd be cool to say, 'Paris,' and have someone drive you there.  We could go to Disney World."

"So you want a corporate jet with a cargo hold full of baked goods to take us all to Orlando?  I'll see what I can do.  I might have to come up with a better present for him though, to get him in the right frame of mind.  A hand knitted cap, scarf, and mittens are only going to get me so far, even with a leather bound man-diary and a nice pen thrown in by my folks.  El wants to be a writer," Sammy explains.

"Really?  Like what kind of writing?"

"Novels, I think.  We talked a lot about it around Halloween, up there on the roof of that old hospital.  That's his too.  He wants to make it his home someday, and have one room just for writing.  He wants to travel too, to different places so he can experience different things; I think if he had half a chance he'd do it as somebody else, somebody without vast resources at his disposal, somebody who had to work and struggle.  I told him that if he did this, he'd have to send me handwritten picture postcards so I could enjoy it too while I was stuck here finishing high school.  I'd save all the post cards for him, and give them all back in an album when he got back.  Then he'd have a place to start his first book."

"I wonder if it helps--travel and struggle.  Most of the novelists I can think of have lived boring lives, doing exactly what their generation expected of them and living in the same place for decades.  Ernest Hemingway traveled a lot and was supposed to have done a lot, but I heard he was kind of a liar, too, and a lot of the stories he told were bull."  She pauses to reconsider her words.  It's Elrod's dream, after all, and Sammy is Elrod's girl.  "I guess it couldn't hurt."

"Actually, I'm not sure its for his writing as much as it is for him.  I thinks he feels, I dunno, cheated because his life has been handed to him, all boxed up and wrapped and tied with an expensive bow.  I think he wants to choose his own life for a change, pretend to be someone else, or at least take some time to figure out for himself who he is and who he wants to be.  That might be the story that gets written; the travel just provides the background scenery."

"Would you trade?  Would you want to be Elrod or, you know, Lisa?"

"Lisa is a miserable spoiled little girl who's never had to work to get anything except maybe Dave, and she's choosing to pay for him instead.  They're all convinced that she needs a constant babysitter, so much so that now she really does.  Elrod usually gets stuck with that job, or he recruits one of Dave's minions.  And Elrod... no, I wouldn't want to be him either.  There's a hole in his life that he's always trying to fill by being the responsible, reliable son to parents who take him for granted.  The hired servants are more his family than his actual family.  He admires my family a lot.  If we ever break up, I think I'm going to have to grant him visitation rights to them.  Sometimes... this is crazy, but sometimes it feels like he's dating them as much as he's dating me.  Except for the kissing part.  That's all mine."

"God, I hope so.  Eww," Sylvia says lightly.  "Same with Donnie.  I think most times he'd rather be having dinner with us than with his folks, despite the textured vegetable protein.

"Carolyn's teaching him to bowl.  I mean, we've gone bowling a few times.  One time the clerk at the counter told her she must be really proud of her son and his girlfriend."

"ohmigod!  That's funny.  At least I'm not the only one dating my future brother.  Maybe someday we can have one great big adoption party for both of them!"  Sammy giggles.

"I wonder if you're allowed to date an adopted brother.  I mean, you're not genetically related--right?--so what's the harm?"

"I guess it depends on how old everybody is when the adoption happens; if you think of somebody as your brother, I think it would be kind of hard to switch gears.  But if he was your boyfriend first that might be different.  What if you were really brother and sister and were adopted into different families?  And you met years later and didn't know?  Ew.  I don't want to have to think about that too hard."

"It happened in Italy, I think.  I read it on Reuters."

"Then it must be true."

[Good closing line?]

OOC:  ya, sure