It was late in the afternoon when the phone rang, a call Clara had already been expecting. It was Friday after all, and her mom still had her regular, never-changing habits.

"Hi, Mom," she said as she picked up the call, pushing aside her laptop for now. She'd been idly working on another assignment, but it was going slowly. Her instructions this time were vague, and she'd hit a dry spell with her inspiration. Again, her mind whispered, but that was a line of thought she had always chosen to ignore.

"Hello, honey," her mother's warm voice greeted her, and Clara smiled. She still sounded tired, but at least she seemed happy now, her voice no longer weighed down by worry and loneliness. "I hope I'm not disturbing you?"

Clara snorted. "At your designated call time? You know I was waiting for the phone to ring," she replied. "How's everything at home?"

"Oh, you know. Same as always," her mom answered, laughing. "And that's all the information you're getting. I didn't call my daughter to talk about myself!"

Clara smiled, rolling her eyes and sighing in defeat. "Worth a try," she said. "Bring on the questions."

"Alright, alright. You already know what I'm going to ask," her mother replied, a spark of her trademark quiet humor glittering to life in her voice. "How's my little girl doing?"

"Good." Clara's answer came automatically, without thinking. "School's still going great. I got an A on my assignment the other day."

"Congratulations!" Her mother's voice was bright with amazement. "Don't say that so casually, that's great! I hope they're not working you too hard?"

Clara glanced at her laptop, then shrugged. "I'm managing."

"Of course you are! You've always been so responsible." Clara could hear her mom's smile through the phone. "And just in case, you've got Giselle watching out for you, right?"

Glancing over her shoulder towards Giselle's room, Clara grimaced and nodded. "Definitely," she said. "She's always trying to mom friend me."

Her mother laughed. "That's my girl! How is she, by the way?"

Clara sobered up. "Trying," she said. "Movies and TV still keep trying to typecast her, but she's got a new theater thing going on. She's been pretty happy with it so far, I hope it works out."

Her mother was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft. "I hope so too," she replied. "Tell her she's invited over for Thanksgiving, will you?"

Clara cracked a lopsided smile. "Like every year since we were fifteen?"

"And every year till you're a hundred and fifteen, if she wants."

"Yeah, I'll tell her." Clara pulled up a knee. "Is Marie around?"

"She's waving at me right now," her mom replied. "Do you want me to hand her the phone?"

"That'd be great, yeah."

"Okay. Take care, my little woman!"

"You too," Clara said softly, then there was a rustle in the line, a sound of feet padding across the living room floor. Then a quiet click.

"Hello?" her little sister's bright voice came from the speaker. Marie was freshly eighteen and a senior in high school now, but you wouldn't guess it from hearing her speak. Where Clara's voice was lower and deeper than people expected from seeing her face, Marie had never lost her youthful, bubbly tone.

"Hey, nerd," Clara greeted her, a big smile spreading over her face. "How's it going?"

"Hey, weirdo," Marie replied in the same tone. "I have so much to tell you, you want the abridged Mom version or the full version?"

Smirking, Clara took a sip from her mug of coffee. "Spill the beans."

"Full version it is!" Marie replied. "School is the worst. We've got this new kid in our class and everybody's got a crush on him, all the girls are starting drama and crying over this guy and you know what's the worst?"

Clara took another sip. "Let me guess," she said. "He's not worth it?"

"So not worth it!" Marie said with feeling. "I'm sorry, but what do people see in him? Sure, he's tall or whatever, but he's got the personality of a wet dishrag! And he kind of looks like a turtle." Clara almost choked on her coffee, and Marie continued, "What? He really does and I'm the only person who sees it!"

Clara grinned. "That's because you have taste in men," she said.

"I do!" Marie said triumphantly. "I think most of them are stupid."

"And we know all the ones who aren't?"

"And most of the ones who are." There was a rustle, and Clara could vividly picture her sister flopping backwards onto the couch, one leg dangling over the armrest. "Speaking of not-stupid men, have you hung out with Dad lately?"

Clara's smile faded. "Not really," she said. "We still live on opposite ends of the city and we're both busy. But he keeps texting me dad jokes."

"Same," Marie said with a groan. "It's been forever since our last hangout. Why do you workaholics always have to work so much?"

Clara furrowed her brow. "I'm not a workaholic," she said.

"Keep telling yourself that. You were working when Mom called, right?" Clara didn't answer, and that was all the answer Marie needed. "Exactly! You're in college, go out and enjoy your youth!"

"Okay, Grandpa." Clara finished her coffee. "Just wait till you get into college, then you'll see."

Marie laughed, then her breath hitched, and Clara could almost see her sitting upright again. "Oh!" she burst out. "I didn't tell you! I think I decided what I want to do with my life!"

Clara sat up straight.

"I've been thinking about it for a while, actually," Marie admitted, her voice a little quieter now. "But…would you call me a copycat if I said I wanted to study programming too?"

Eyes widening, Clara adjusted herself in her seat again, holding her breath. "I wouldn't," she said. "But what gives?"

"Just…watching you." Marie's voice was quiet, but there was no hesitation in her tone. "You can do so much with it…so much fun stuff, and so much good, you know? I've always thought it was amazing, and I've always been good with math and technology too, so…"

That's more passion than I put into it back then, Clara wanted to say, but she swallowed the remark. "That's great!" she said instead. "It's a good field, even if you're the only girl in your class sometimes."

Marie let out a low hum. "That's okay," she said. "You can deal with that, so I can do it too."

"That's the spirit."

"And hey!" Marie went on, brightening again. "I can always go to you, right? We'll be sharing the same passion for a change!"

Passion, huh.

Clara's eyes landed on the screen again, her half-baked brainstorming screen for her vague assignment. Her gaze grew distant. "Yeah," she heard herself say, putting on a smile. "Looking forward to it."

Marie chattered on for a while, rambling about school and the family dog and their little half-brothers' pranks, and Clara sat back and listened. She herself didn't have much to tell—she'd never felt like there was much going on in her life that was worth telling, and she'd rather listen to others anyway. But that was fine. Her sister, just like Giselle, had always been chatty enough for the two of them.

But in the end Marie got called away to help set the dinner table, and Clara was left behind, suddenly realizing that she had yet to take care of her own dinner. Or was it Giselle's turn tonight? She couldn't remember.

She sighed. What was with her? She didn't usually lose track of things like this, but lately she'd been feeling just a little off beat. Maybe she really had taken on too much this time. Her studies were already enough to keep her busy half the time; maybe agreeing to design Giselle's poster really had been the straw that broke the camel's back. Or maybe she just needed more sleep. Lately she'd been pushing her limits a little more than usual, and it was starting to show.

That was new. She had always known exactly where her limits were. What had changed?

Before she could figure out an answer, there was the click of a key turning in the lock, and moments later Giselle came hurrying in. "You'll never guess what happened," she said instead of a greeting.

Letting out a snort, Clara rose to her feet, picking up her empty mug as she went. "Hi to you too," she said. "What happened, did you get a lead role?"

Giselle's expression didn't change at all. "Nope," she said. "Somebody asked me about your posters today."

Clara raised her eyebrows. "My posters?"

"Yeah! Some guy…I think he said he was from a band or something." Slipping off her shoes, Giselle dropped her bag on the floor and started unloading the contents. "He said he really wanted to ask you for a poster too!"

Now that was a turn Clara really hadn't expected. "For his band?" she said.

"Yep." Giselle made a beeline for the kitchen. "I gave him your number, is that okay?"

Instinctively Clara reached into her pocket for her phone, but there were no messages. "Uh, sure," she said, probably against better judgment, but she was curious. "He hasn't texted me yet, though."

"Wait and see," Giselle chimed, busying herself in the kitchen. "Anyway, are you hungry?"

Clara relaxed.

What had she been worrying about dinner for? Of course she hadn't been supposed to fix it tonight; it had been Giselle's turn all along. The only thing that bugged her was that she'd somehow doubted that.

Which meant that, for tonight, she could sit back and watch her phone in peace.

~ ~ ~

"Why are we here again?" Terrence remarked, sticking his plastic fork into his box of Chinese takeout. "I'm still confused."

"Because the baby can't send a text on his own," Clem answered without looking up. The five of them were sitting in their improvised band practice room again, their instruments set aside for now, their chairs set in a semicircle. Freddie was seated in the middle, his phone in both hands, fidgeting and tapping his finger all over the keyboard, while Theo and Dylan watched over his shoulder like teenage girls helping their friend text a crush.

Freddie flipped him off. "You do this better!" he said. "I only have one chance to leave a good first impression!"

Dylan laughed. "Chill out, dude," he replied, reaching over to pat his back. "You're asking for a poster, not texting a girl on Tinder!"

"Exactly!" Freddie retorted. "If I screw this up, it'll affect all of us. So either help or shut up!"

"Then pretend it's a girl on Tinder," Theo said from his other side. "Flirt a bit to set the mood—ouch!"

"I'm regretting this already," Freddie muttered, getting up and smacking him upside the head again for good measure. "None of you are allowed near my phone till you learn to behave!"

Theo took the opportunity and instantly scooted over into Freddie's now-empty chair, clinging to Dylan's side. "Freddie hit me," he said with a pout.

Dylan only arched an amused eyebrow. "You had it coming, bro."

Theo's pout intensified. "Aren't you gonna kiss it better?"

Cackling under his breath, Dylan reached up and planted a kiss on his dark curls. "There you go," he said. "Now shut up."

"Everyone's so mean to me all the time," Theo muttered, rising from his chair and draping himself over Terrence's back. "I'm sitting with TJ now, he'd never bully me like this."

"Then I'm sitting with Clem, since none of you idiots know how to be normal," Freddie retorted, trying to sit in the drummer's lap. Clem pushed him off without batting an eye.

"What's scaring you so much, anyway?" Dylan spoke up, sobering a little, but only a little. "You don't even know this girl, worst that can happen is she says no."

"She says no, and we're still left with no posters!" Freddie retorted, still fidgeting with his phone. "You guys haven't heard the theater girl talk about her. She's a programming major for crying out loud, even her name sounds fancy!"

Terrence's eyes widened. "Now I get you," he said. "Women in STEM do scare me."

"Thank you! They're too powerful," Freddie replied. "What if she thinks I'm a creep? Or looks down on our silly little band and thinks we're cringey?"

"What if she thinks we're awesome? You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take, man," Dylan answered, sipping his soda. "Just text her, you can freak out later."

Freddie sighed.

The guys were right, he knew. He should just sit down and finish that message and send it off. Stressing over it indefinitely wouldn't make it any easier.

Hi I'm texting about the posters you made for your friend, he typed in at last. I loved them at first sight and i heard you designed them, are you open to makign posters fr

The message sent, and his heart plummeted. Damn it. He had meant to hit the backspace key, and instead he had sent too early.

**for others too? he added at once. Im from a small band named Kids After Dark, my name is Freddie if ur wondering

If ur ok with making posters how much do u charge?

Well, damn. So much for leaving a good first impression.

But he supposed he'd just have to wait and hope for the best.