It was now Monday. Nine hours since the forbidden 'love' bomb call and it was morning. Back to school which was known as Hawkins High for both Monica and Nancy "determined" Wheeler. They officially had been attending the same school ever since elementary and knew each other since daycare. Of course, they happened to live right next to each other. It was destined for them to click as friends. Only as that, as far as they knew it. Like how the Byers family thought they were not destined, but wanted, a regular life after the man came in to cause nothing but chaos. But only if they knew what was coming. For everyone to know what's coming.

There were a few seconds of silence after Monica awoke from her short slumber from sleeping for a measly 4-5 hours. From hearing the best news that Nancy accidentally spilled out, it was surprising that Monica could sleep. Although Monica always had a deeply agonizing pain that the love she felt for Nancy's "infectious smile" Wheeler since kindergarten will never flourish, it was nice to know that she could always replay the physical words in her mind. Maybe this could be the first step from moving on and not feeling like the world is crumbling, watching someone willing to pick a Grease character over her own best friend since kindergarten.

Then she always realized the sad truth... that no one around her knows how lonely it is... to be viewed as a "phase" and "experiment" at best (it's definitely not). If there were even a best. Maybe the fact that she lived in a white suburban, small town in the Midwest made her like everyone else: heterosexual and obsessed with Journey. She was just by herself. But the thought of the very real potential chance that Monica's crush and fantasy of getting together with her was really desperation for love and intimate connection, was rather depressing and life-altering to admit.

The smoke alarm jolts her awake, quickly looking over the clock which revealed that it was 45 minutes until first period, This piece of news shakes her even more alert. She rushed into her unorganized closet and threw on an outfit that consist of a dark long sleeve, a plaid tennis skirt, a black bomber jacket over it, and to top it all, a pair of black platform boots. The sunlight slightly hit the mirror as Monica checked herself out if she looked normal enough to function in society. The bedroom that surrounded her was cluttered and unorganized: lost issues of Nancy Drew, cassette tapes of her favorite movies, and random papers that would be letters to herself. She never got around to really throwing them away due to the overbearing little 'voice' in her anxious head that would tell her she'll regret it. Like falling for a Wheeler.

She then sprints towards the kitchen as she smelt a distinct scent of burned scrambled eggs. Ma's cooking again... That's why..., she wonders. Her assumption was proved right once she saw her mother struggling to scrape off the tartar-covered scrambled eggs with a side of crunchy bits of bacon quickly enough to wave off the smoke alarm. Her mother Linda managed to curse in her native language, Japanese while fanning a dirty rag over the smoke detector. Of course, her mother was fluent in English as she was forced to get a minimum-wage job, but the only language that was natural and spoken at home was Japanese. English was rather seen as "professional" by the average American who was pale and male and something she wanted her daughter to assimilate to.

Even though Monica didn't actively oppose it, it bothered her that the language she knew from the back of her hand was something she understood, but barely could speak it. Or any part of her culture but the mere amount of dishes that Linda had cooked for her. It would make her sometimes ashamed to have nothing to share with the nonexistent children that she'll probably never have someday. Then again, she knew why her mother had to.

Monica rushed to the small kitchen that was messy and sticky from the days prior and turned off the fire. "Good morning, ma. I'm sorry for oversleeping. I have no excuse for my recklessness. Thank you for the delicious breakfast but I insist on finishing things here." her words were rehearsed for the many previous times she had overslept on a school night.

The smoke detector magically turns off before her mother turns her back to face Monica in an exhausted sigh. Even in her 40s, there was barely a wrinkle visible on the aging mother's face but several gray hairs laid flat on her jet-black shaggy bob. She had a baby blue polo shirt and khakis as her working uniform as she worked at the local grocery store nearby their home. There was a little grin on her face once they made eye-to-eye contact and caressed her cheek. "I can always count on you."

Watching the twinkle in her mother's hopeful eyes. Monica couldn't help but feel anything but guilt. How could she betray her dream of being the 'perfect daughter' with the 6'2 imaginary husband that Monica will never have? Nor she wanted to genuinely? It was as if she was living a double life. keeping it away from the person she held close. Her own mother. Little did her mother know that the phrase, "count on you" felt like several more solid, gritty bricks toppling her constant carrying back and soon those bones will crack to show. Her mother quickly went off with her blue-brown BMV and drove off to work leaving Monica by herself for the rest of the fifteen minutes she has before Johnathan Byers, the school's weirdo photographer drives her to school.

Now why him, considering that he doesn't live within walking distance from her house? Whenever Johnathan and Joyce Byers couldn't watch their chill, creative boy Will, Monica has been secretly making money off of babysitting him over the weekends and maybe a weekday or two. After seeing her mother struggle with bills, she just uses the money and always stuffs it in her coffee brown purse. The best part about it was that she would be too exhausted or worked up with sweat to notice and it would make Monica feel less guilty for the lies she kept piling up. In that way everyone wins. Him and Monica both had a shared interest in photography, even though Monica leaned more so into filmmaking. Which was equipment she couldn't afford until she started babysitting. Jonathan was the only person she could relate to other than Nancy and didn't make her feel alone in regard to having... complicated relationships with their own families. Whether or not it was about lying straight in the eyes of the people who created you or blatantly just hoping they'll disappear in their lives. They were close like a pair of older siblings, acting strong to keep the rest of the family alive.

Ten minutes passed by as Monica messily grabs her camera before she makes steps to the door. The phone rings. She sighed in frustration and rushed to pick up the cream-white phone that hung up on the wall between the kitchen and living room. The salesman must be really desperate to call this early in the morning, she thinks in frustration. "Hello?" To her surprise, a fidgety Joyce Byers spoke on the other line with a ball of anxiety.

"Monica, hey. It's Joyce."

Monica tend to refer to Joyce as either "Ms. Byers" or "Mama Byers" depending on the context. Her tone seems to be more serious. "Hi, Ms. Byers. Is everything okay?"

"We're fine, thank you. I was thinking if you may have seen Will around. It's just that he didn't come home last night and I thought... well I just wanted to see if you knew anything."

As Joyce describes her situation, Monica's heart slightly drops at the thought of Will Byers being missing. Gone missing in the same night when all she could do was fixate over dumb words of love from Nancy rather than looking over Will. She took the night in babysitting to spare time for Nancy's calls. Nothing else has made her regret her decisions as much as that.

Will was the little brother she never had. And in the moment when he could've been stolen, kidnapped, or even worse... hate crimed by the school bullies to be left to die, she didn't even bother to ask or see if he was okay. Endless possibilities of what truly could've happened haunted Monica and her brain. She was scared to tell the bitter truth. That she didn't bother to look.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Byers. I don't know where Will might be. I can help you search for him."

Immediately Joyce rejects the offer. "I'm fine. I think I'm overthinking it. He probably went to school early for his friends maybe? I'll be okay. Tell your mother Linda I say hi. And how many times do I have to say to not call me Ms. Byers?"

"Well, I don't think calling you 'Mama Bear Byers' would serve this conversation any justice."

"Well, call me Joyce. Ms. Byers sounds too old." Joyce jokes with a clear smirk on her face, lightening up the conversation. "Oh, Jonathan wants to talk to you."

Oh, Jonathan... I wonder how well he was taking all of this. I encouraged him to take extra shifts all the time since I was watching his brother. Why do I always say things that make things worse, her mind wanders before Joyce's hands were off the phone to hand over to Jonathan. "Hey, Mon. I sorta can't drive you today until I get this situation sorted out. You understand, right?"

"Of course. Are you okay?"

"I'm good. Don't worry, okay? I'll see later at school. We can then replenish the art of capturing the moment together like always. Maybe come and hang out with Will after school if he doesn't have plans." Even in the worrisome moments of their lives, the Byers always managed to move with a smile on their face. Then again, Monica could be overreacting to the news since nothing gruesomely terrible has actually happened or else they would be having a different conversation. Monica was probably imagining the worse before the better.

"That sounds like fun. Take care of yourself, okay? I mean, who else am I going to get to drive me? Steve Harrington? I rather kill myself on live television."

Jonathan let out a short chuckle. "I'm fine, Monica. I'll see ya. Goodbye."

Ending that conversation, she realized that she was either forced to find a new ride or better yet walk there herself. The lights began to flicker as she started to think of the two options. "Stupid electricity." She turns off the light switch to avoid the problem again. There wasn't any time on the clock to wait for someone new to drive to her so she decided to sprint walk her way there like a normal businessman late to their own meeting. She rushed the door open and skips over the staircase that was covered in orange/red leaves from the trees around her home. A red BMV sat there by the Wheeler household, parked on the sidewalk.

Nancy Wheeler was seconds away from the car that belonged to the hairspray-obsessed "Steve Harrington'' when she saw Monica walk herself into a jog to leave her house. She was slightly confused at the sight yet too embarrassed to say anything after the 'love' bomb and just went into the passenger seat. His bitchy yet terribly friends sitting in the backseat, Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, would try to intimidate Steve sitting in the driver's seat by making glances while singing Nancy's name teasingly. They loved to pick on him in a joking way, of course. At least that's what they'd think. Steve, nevertheless, failed to make them stop so he just let them treat their relationship as a "friendly" joke. Steve also noticed Monica leaving her house by looking through the car windows, asking Nancy who she was.

Nancy halts as realizing that it was Monica. Definitely not the same girl that she told her that she loved her. It was totally platonic and Steve was her boyfriend now. That's what was in the back of her mind in the middle of the school morning. Carol Perkins butts in saying, "Ew, that's the weird girl that hangs out with that pervy cameraman."

"I heard that they're dating." Tommy adds. Adds complete nothing but ridiculousness.

Nancy finally spoke out. "She's just my best friend."

"Wait, I thought Barb was your best friend." Steve said, trying to understand.

"Well, I guess I have two best friends. It doesn't matter anyways. We should really go. I don't wanna be late." Nancy brushed it off, chuckling nervously. Her face was turning a slight light shade of pink out of anxiety. Was she really ready for her two worlds of Steve and Monica to collide? Maybe Monica won't accept his offer, she rationed out her thought to simply feel better.

"Seems like a dick move to let her walk." Before Nancy could respond with a no, he drove up to catch up with Monica. Monica, meanwhile, was speeding on through to get to class as close as she could get from being on time. She couldn't hear Tommy and Carol's relentless comments as if they didn't even exist. Once the car was close enough to Monica to hear Steve's blaring radio music from his car, he starts to call her out. He even leaned against Nancy to get a better glance at her.

"HEY! HEY YOU!" Steve calls out through his moving car. Monica could smell that cheap hairspray from a mile away and kept moving. She didn't have the time to be picked up by an average-looking guy. "Nancy's friend, right?"

Monica turns to face him with a deadpan expression, trying not to make any eye contact. She didn't seem to stop walking, just in case. "I'm her best friend."

"And so the freak speaks." Carol teases even more.

Steve could notice the tension on Monica's face as she spoke. It only amused him to be a tease. "Best friend, huh? Wow, that's funny since... Nancy barely mentions you. You look like you need a ride. I'd be happy to give you one."

Tommy snickers at Monica's lack of response. "Seems like pervy Byers already beat you to the punch with that one."

"God could you shut up?!" As Steve scolds Tommy, Monica just stood there in amazement. This was the person Nancy WANTED to be with? A bunch of shallow teen pricks with no life going for them? They're not even that attractive. Maybe Carol, if she didn't call me a freak, her mind was being fried. I would walk away if Nancy wasn't here.

Nancy couldn't be any more embarrassed to be public at this moment. She could sense Monica writing Steve off in her "terrible asshole" list. She hoped that she didn't judge Nancy for choosing this life. Steve was nice and it made sense to be with him in her mind. So much so that she tells herself that every day.

"Monica, you don't have to go if you want." Nancy reminded her with that sparkle and warm sweetness in her voice. Her voice made things better. Even when it came to Steve.

It was no surprise Monica was going to be late so she might as well have taken the ride. She just dreaded the ride completely, especially with Tommy and Carol cackling like hyenas in the backseat. "What the hell, I'll go. I'm late anyways."

"You sure-" Nancy was interpreted by yours truly.

"Sweet! You can sit in the back."

Maybe I'll end up in a car accident and die that way, Monica thought. She climbs in the backseat, sitting next to slimy Tommy and Carol, who chews gum excessively loud for the rest of the ride.

-

Class periods pass by like flies dropping dead one by one. It was a simple boring day with the constant thoughts of Will missing and Nancy's annoying fling with Steve. They both just had Home EC with Mrs. Smith and her rambling on how to budget and taxes. Monica couldn't bother with it all and only zoned out while fixating on Nancy's brown, wavy hair shimmering over the sunlight. Enraptured in her beauty and smarts as Nancy answered every question with such ease. If she couldn't be with her, at least she was lucky enough to be in the same class as her.

But one thing Nancy always loved to do that Monica hated; was bringing up the topic of 'boys'. That boy that is at this moment, Steve. But it wasn't the first time. It all started in middle school in 1979 when Leif Garrett apparently was the holy grail of 'hot' boys with his stupid music. And with his stupid blonde hair. It wasn't like she hated him, more so than confused as to what was the big deal. It was a boy with long blonde hair and blue eyes. Monica was more into Nancy Drew and films from cassettes in her mother's dusted closet that were from the 60s and the 70s. Her favorite actress at the time was Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany's. It was her movie that really started the question for Monica wanting to film as a dream career and capturing something as unique as that movie was for her. The topic of 'boys' just ruins a good conversation in exchange for if he likes her.

It was close to lunch as they walked through the hall together. They were joking about how Mrs. Smith reeks with the stench of cat hair and hairballs. "Remember that one time she came in with a load of cat hair over her and that jock Jason started to sneeze over and over? Priceless."

"Or the first day that she told how many cats she actually had by naming all of them?" Nancy giggles, interlocking arms with Monica's like a pair of 'girl pals'.

The girls, in unison, list off the miraculous names for every single cat Mrs. Smith managed to have. "Georgie, Dolly, Maxine, Judy..."

A tall broad teenager with ginger hair that was as bright as a blazing fire and strawberry freckles grinned from ear to ear, catching up with Nancy. The girl was named Barbara Holland, Nancy's other close friend since middle school. They met in the club for the student newspaper while Monica spent time making short films with the camera her mother rented for several months, reenacting some scenes from Nancy Drew and using the school camera to take pictures for the yearbook in 8th grade. When it came to Barb, she and Monica were less intimate unlike her and Nancy but they never had troubles with one another. Barb was the main person with whom Nancy talked about her boy problems and Monica found her useful in that sense. At least she wasn't the only one who was listening to the name 'Steve' and 'he's a nice boy' all the time.

"Nancy!" She squealed in a whisper so only Monica and Nancy could hear. Please don't. Don't mention his name. Please just for a few more seconds, Monica pleaded to herself. "So, how did it go?!"

I'm living in hell.

"Keep your voice down. I told you, it's not like that." Nancy giggles towards an excited Barb as Barb gives her an unconvinced look in her eyes. "We... just made out a couple times."

Monica immediately wanted to run away from extreme annoyance and slight anger. Until she couldn't help it anymore. "Hey, um, sorry Nance. I have to go... to the dark room. Don't want to be behind for photos, you know?"

"Oh? You're sure?" Nancy was genuinely aloof to Monica's abrupt change in emotion.

"Positive." Even though Barb meant well, one thing is for certain; Barb was not her friend. Not by a long shot.

-

As a longtime fan of detective books, Monica felt educated on how to solve a problem and of course, it was from listening to others to gain enough information to make a hypothesis and prove it. The keyword was to "listen"; something that Chief Jim Hopper chose to pick and choose to do. But the whole system was the same way but some were more narcissistic than others. They were more focused on which toppings to get for their donuts with their side of black coffee in the morning. Maybe in this case, they'll take themselves seriously.

Monica was called into the principal's office during lunch hour for questioning of the missing boy, Will Byers. Hosted by police chief Jim Hopper and his colleagues. She was in the dark room at the time when one of the new freshman photographers barged in, saying that Ms. Briggs, the principal secretary, was calling her to the principal's office as she clarified that it was urgent. After Monica groans in disappointment when realizing that the newly printed photos she took were ruined from being processed, she drops the remaining picture in her hands to wash up and walks out to see what was happening.

Once she enters the main office to be escorted to the principal's office, she sees the three police officers including Jim Hopper with his beard mustache, and his shiny golden star badge. She was instructed to sit on the couch while Hopper sat in the seat across the principal desk and his colleagues while Calvin Powell and Phil Callahan stood behind him with arms crossed.

Shit, can it be about... Will?

"Good afternoon, Miss... Sue... linsky-" Hopper fails his attempts to pronunciatating her last name which was unfortunately not the first time. Monica interrupts, hoping not to sound rude.

"Monica. Just call me Monica."

Hopper continues on in his monotone type of speech. Just like any other cop. "Monica. I'm Jim Hopper and it is a pleasure to meet you. My colleagues and I were just here to ask some simple questions, if that's okay with you."

Monica wanted to call out to ask if this was about Will but she knew that she had to play his game when answering a cop. If she did, he would just tell her to answer the question he instructed her to ask. So instead, she nodded a yes while desepately masking herself as calm.

"Okay. You're Will Byers' babysitter, right?" Hopper had a file in hand, "The Byers Case." She knew that this must be getting serious and hoped her being 'overdramatic' wasn't warranted.

"I babysat him, yeah. He's a sweet boy, you know? The Byers in general are sweet people."

Powell, one of Hopper's coworkers, spoke up with the question, "Did you know that he's currently missing since last night? His mother is really worried."

"I'm aware, she asked me this morning. I have no idea he might have gone."

Hopper sighs, "I've figured. Do you know how he gets home? You know, from your house?"

"Well, Jonathan usually picks him up but he uses his bike sometimes. Takes the road where Cornwallis and Kerley meet, I'm pretty sure." Monica answers truthfully.

"Where were you at the night of?"

Monica froze at that question. A flood of guilt overloads her body, causing her to fidget with her fingers by rubbing it together at a continuous pace. She didn't admit the truth of not being there for Will. Over a girl. Nancy Wheeler. She gulps when giving a response. "I was... at home, watching tv. Officer Hopper-"

"Call me just Hopper. Are you sure that you don't have any idea where Will Byers could be? Maybe a hideout or anything?"

"He has Castle Byers but if that was the case, Ms. Byers wouldn't have called you, now would she?" She then realized how sassy that came off even though she couldn't give a damn. Monica just wanted Will to be okay and Hopper was willing to help despite his outer stone cold appearance. "Sorry, Of- Hopper. I'm just scared. I wouldn't know what to do if he was hurt or... you know."

"It's fine. Does he have any enemies? Maybe school bullies?"

"Yeah, he told me that these kids made fun of him being... creative and expressing he just is. Made fun of his friends too. Troy and James, those are their names. I swore to him not to tell but I told his mother so I'm sure you know about that already." Monica then looks up and stares directly into Hopper's blue eyes and mustache. "If you're going to take this case seriously, I'd start there."

There was a long pause in the room. Callahan, being the most aloof person in the room while being a 'devoted' cop at work, scanned Monica and Hopper's body language and the lack of having anything to say. "What does that mean?" He whispers to Powell.

"Can I leave now?" Monica simply asks softly.

"Yes, you're dismissed."

Monica stood from the blue couch and tilted her head down to match her eyesight with Hopper one last time. "Find him."

-

When at home, Monica was always left alone due to her mother's busy schedule, consistently piling on more work to receive a slight difference when she only gets pennies more in her salary. Thanks to the system of hating the working class and the poor. Lovely to be American, Monica sometimes says in a sarcastic tone to herself. It worried her daughter, knowing one day, her body will shut down even with the 'surprising' gifts of money that Monica gives to her. But the main thought that was around her mind was the missing Will Byers case.

She tried to reach Jonathan by the payphone in Hawkins High to ask if she could help to search for Will, which he refused to allow but asked for her help to hang up missing poster signs at school. Knowing how stubborn he is to always reject help as if it was merely pity, she simply accepts it just because help is all that he needs right now.

"Hey, uh Jonathan? I need you to know that this wasn't your fault and I don't care if you think I'm a liar for saying it. We're going to find him." Monica reassured him with a 'motivational speaker' kind of voice.

"I really hope so. If... you know... Yeah. My mother isn't... handling it well. She's not herself lately. Thinking that lamps are talking to her and thinking that prank callers are Will's breathing. I'm living in a nightmare. But at least I'm glad that I have a friend to talk to. Even to make me feel better about myself when I don't deserve it."

"Shut the fuck up." Monica made him chuckle through the phone, sniffling up his dried-up tears. "You do."

"Thanks." She could tell that she just made him smile and if she couldn't help searching, at least she felt good about that. "I could pick you up if you want. I got time."

"No, I think I'll walk. Thank you."

"Wait... Monica, how did you even get to school this morning? Did you walk again?"

Monica recounted the same gritty morning of getting a shitty car drive with her secret lover's boyfriend while sitting with his bitchy friends in the backseat. Hearing Steve and Nancy banter, sending Monica in a fit of rage because it sounded unnatural as Tommy, usually, jokes about them kissing and... dancing under the sheets. It was the 'perfect' opportunity to complain and rant. "No. Apparently, Nancy's boyfriend decided to drive me."

"Oh... Steve?"

"I'm surprised that I didn't shoot myself but I managed. But I'm never doing it again."

Jonathan tried to hide his chuckle, remaining as normal as possible. "Thank you for not dying."

"You're welcome." Their conversation was short after this before saying their goodbyes. Monica hung up, rushing her way home. Little did she know that Nancy was right with Steve and his stupid goons, staring at her leave the school grounds. Desperately wanting to go with her and talk. Talk about normal things in peace. like Nancy Drew.

Once Monica burned her feet off getting home on foot with her platform boots, she took them off before entering inside. The cluttered house was once again empty due to her mother taking more shifts. For a while, Monica thought it was an addiction instead of a valid desperation to earn as much as she could to survive. The overdue taxes made her think differently.

Monica dropped her bag gently right next to the front door where all of the shoes were placed on a neat shelf. She noticed a new post-it note on the fridge door and walked directly towards it without any care of starting new work. Homework, at this point in time, would induce way more stress than what she needs. Chores can be distracting in that sense. When grabbing that piece of yellow paper, the list consists of:

1. Wash dishes

2. Scrub the toilet and tub

3. Water the plants

It wasn't hectic this time so she took her time with these tasks. First, she took the quest of scrubbing the toilet and the tub that had a shower head which was slightly rusty. She hoped that in that time, her mind would decide to forget what kind of crappy day she had but it's all she could think about. Why didn't she just go anyway for Jonathan and Joyce in searching for Will? Why did she take that ride with Steve and Nancy? And why was Nancy so obsessed with him? All in her mind like a broken record player. Then she went into the kitchen in her simple black socks once again to wash dishes which was a light load this week. The thoughts were still wrapped around her brain. Fuck you, brain, Monica insults herself. I wish I was in a blank state.

Finally, she was instructed to water the outside plants that sat in a vase on the porch she was given by Nancy for her thirteenth birthday. A bouquet of a mix of lantanas, lilies, and purple tulips. She remembered the day like it was yesterday. Nancy grinned with delight when she saw Monica's reaction to the flowers. Nearly two years later, Nancy sorta admitted that it was a last minute gift since she already had a camera, thanks to Jonathan. But Monica didn't care, despite flowers being at the top of her list, because it was a gift anyway. Nancy cared enough to have the urgency to get her nice and sweet. And even matching Monica's favorite color, purple. She wished she could save those flowers and could live forever like her attachment to Nancy. The "real" reason that she hated Steve was that it was another reminder that it wasn't going to last forever; that soon, if not already, Nancy will leave her for good in exchange for... someone like him. As if their friendship was nothing. And that possible fact haunts her soul.

As she watered these plants with a simple black tee, pajama pants, and sandals, she then realized that the snobby idiot, Steve Harrington, was sneaking up to Nancy's room... to study. She couldn't then keep her eyes off of his dedication to be with her. As if he really liked her which was something that they both can agree to. How could anyone not? She stares at him in amazement.

Then the little boy, Mike Wheeler appears with his bike, about to sneak out when he caught Steve as well with a roll of his eyes. Steve was slightly embarrassed when the small kid caught him in the act but continued to reach out to Nancy and finally went inside through the window.

Mike stayed when he felt Monica's eyes drift off Nancy's window as Africa by Toto plays in a muffled sound. Her hand wasn't focused in the slightest on watering these poor flower which was too much. In a sense, she couldn't care. Those flowers were about to summarize the end of their long-lasting friendship anyways. Or maybe she was being overdramatic again like before with Will? Or "under" dramatic?

"Monica!" Mike snapped her out of killing her own flowers further. "You're overwatering your plants."

"Oh... Sorry." Monica softly replied.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"If it helps, I think Steve sucks too. He's a total jerk."

It was at that moment that Monica and Nancy's little annoying brother, Mike, was on the same page. Maybe the world was ending. "Thanks."

"See you soon, Monica!"

"See ya? I guess?"