"You look upset." I raise an eyebrow at Minho. "Something going on?"

"Yeah." He rubs his eyes with two fingers as we drive away from practice. "I could barely concentrate today. Remember that guy that sometimes comes over for dinner at ours? My mom's boss?"

"Yeah. What about him?"

"He's dead," Minho announces. "Fell into his hearth or something. His whole shirt caught fire. He wasn't able to take it off and... I don't know, I didn't get the details. He probably suffocated."

I feel my heart sink at the thought of that. Indeed, I know this man. He's tall and bald, quite old. It's probably not nice to say now he's deceased, but I never really liked him. This is sad, though.

"Oh, damn," is all I manage.

"Yeah." Minho bites his lip, then shrugs. "I mean, I barely knew him, but it's sad watching Mom."

"...is it still even okay if I come over?"

"Of course," Minho assures. "She's probably asleep anyway."

Thankful to at least hear that, I nod. "Okay. I'll make sure to— Sage!"

Minho's eyes follow mine until they reach Viviette. She's walking beside the road we're driving on. Or rather, up the hill. Her skirt now and then rises because of the wind. Luckily, she's wearing bike shorts below it. She has her arms clutched around her chest. That leather jacket probably doesn't cover for the cold fall weather. And her backpack looks like a burden.

I roll the window down. "Hi, there. You need a ride for the two minutes?"

"She has headphones on," Minho informs. "Won't hear you."

"Sage!" I motion for him to slow down our pace of driving as I continue yelling for her, even though the wind keeps on carrying my voice away.

Minho lets go of a breath. "It's two more minutes of walking for her. Who cares?"

"She's probably freezing and hates walking," I point out. Impulsively, I slam my hand on the horn.

She startles so badly that her entire body jolts. Her foot almost catches an uneven part of the pavement, but she catches herself. Her backpack swings with her sudden movements. With that, her phone slips out of her pocket. Her eyes are wide when she turns around, scanning the road in confusion. Once she spots us, she blinks, and her expression changes to something softer but embarrassed, her cheeks flushed from both the cold and shock.

Dumb action, Thomas. I slam my hand against my forehead. "Sorry!" I apologize as she removes her headphones. "Need a ride?"

"Do you know how many times we could've driven home and back here during this entire moment?" Minho mutters. "Even that turtle of a sister could make it to at least three times."

Being so nice once again.

"Uhm." She picks her phone up from the ground, running her hand across it. Some kind of concern flicks on her face before she looks up at us. "...sure, I guess."

Happy enough, I wait until she has seated herself behind us. Minho, with another mutter under his breath, starts driving.

I twist my head to have a look at her. Her hair had been in two braids this morning. Now some strands have let go. Must've been the breeze, too. "You okay?"

"Yeah, but my phone isn't." She holds it up.

Oh. There's white lines all across the screen. When she turns it on, some parts of her background—a picture of Willow—have gained a rainbow-ish color. Not good.

"I am so sorry," I tell her. "I'll make it up—"

"It's okay. I should've zipped my pocket closed," she assures.

Nope. I'm going to make it up. This is the perfect motivation to finally get a job somewhere; make a real amount of money so she can get a new phone after I've freaking destroyed it.

"Does it still decently work?" I ask. "I'll get you a new one soon."

She touches a few buttons, biting her lip just like Minho had done, and then nods. "It works. And it'll be fine. You don't have to buy me anything."

"No, screw the chocolate I'm giving you every time you make me something. Buying that costs not even a quarter of the time you spend on sewing and the money you spend on the equipment," I say. "I'll get you a new one."

"No. That's crazy, Thomas. I'll live with this until Dad passes me his phone or something. Sewing things for you is literally an act out of," she hesitates for a second, "...friendship. I'd do it for anyone and for free, too."

"No-oh. I swear—"

"Minho," I interrupt, "what do you think?"

"I think you're an absolute fool for wanting to pay for someone's phone voluntarily."

"Exactly," Viviette says. "He—"

"And I think the way you jumped was hilarious," he adds. "Even the phone telling looked funny."

"Shut up, M—"

"I will pay for it," I tell Minho.

It's indeed crazy. But come on, I honked at her and after eighteen years of knowing her I should be aware of her jumpiness. And I need to get a job somewhere anyway.

"You're crazy," he replies.

"Can we—"

"What job do you think is nice?"

"I don't know. Go deliver packages or something."

"Maybe—"

"Hm." I tilt my head to the side. "Nah, I want to work in a supermarket or restaurant. Something like that. Bowling alley?"

"Hey, guys—"

Before Viviette can finish, Minho responds to me question. "Maybe. Go for something that pays well, if you're already crazy enough to get her a new phone."

"But—"

"Shh, I'm going to buy you a new one," I say. "Or at least help pay for it."

"That's not—"

"That's a very good deal. I'd take it," Minho says.

"That's not what I'm talking about!" She sounds so frustrated that I swear she might start pulling her hair out. "For the past minutes, I've been trying to ask why the hell you want us dead or something. Why are you driving towards the sea?"

I turn my head back to the road—uhm, sea—in front of me, taken aback. "Minho!"

"You distracted me!"

"Turn around and drive back up the hill," Viviette says.

Nodding, Minho does as she says— no he doesn't.

"Hey, listen to that advice," I say. "Turn around and drive back."

"I'm trying, man!" Minho throws his head back, groaning. "We're stuck."

Viviette's head pops beside ours. "What do you mean, we're stuck?"

"In the sand, idiot," Minho says grumpily, as if it's not his fault.

Okay, maybe we can share the blame.

"Yeah, that's it. I'm out of here. What a waste of time. A broken phone and getting stuck in the sand." Viviette opens the car door. She jumps onto the beach, about to walk off Then she turns around, slowly, as she takes something from her backpack.

She opens the door to my seat, still fumbling inside her bag. I hear a sniffing sound coming from her nose. "Arms up."

Confused, I do it. She sprays some deodorant onto my armpits, then does the exact same thing to Minho.

"Y'all stink after practice." The deodorant disappears back in her bag. I'm a little afraid of all the things she has in there. She'll soon appear with a vacuum cleaner or something. "Go shower once you fix this problem. Bye."

We're left too stunned to speak for a few seconds. In that time, she's already off the beach.

"...perhaps we should call our dads," I suggest.

"Good idea. Do it."

"You may."

"Oh, no. You may get the honor, Tommy Boy."

I smile sweetly at him. "You get the honor."

A few minutes of bickering later, which has gotten us nowhere, I grab my phone. It takes a while for Dad to pick up. Once he does, I'm at a loss of words.

"Uhm," I start.

"Uhm...?"

"We have a little problem and it's not my fault."

"Neither is it mine," Minho denies into the phone.

"Yeah, and neither is it Viviette's."

"It was Finn," Minho says.

I look up, eyebrows scrunched, then shake my head. "Er, can you and Oliver just come help?"