Not Listening

by TheBucketWoman

Disclaimer: I do not own Life with Derek or anything else I may reference herein. No profit is being made nor is any infringement intended.

Chapter Forty-One.

Part One: Casey.

After they'd broken up, it had taken Sam a while to stop acting like he knew her feelings better than she did. He'd promised to leave her alone about it months ago, but Sunday night, after the game, there was that look again. This time, instead of anger or jealousy, the look was laced with a little pity. Hugging Derek hadn't exactly been the smartest move she could've made, but that was no reason for Sam to give her that caught red-handed look. She hadn't done anything wrong. Hockey just made her protective, is all.

Then he patted Derek's shoulder, gave Casey a quick “later” and took off, leaving Casey fuming. Everybody thought she was mad at Derek for insulting her but he always insulted her; she knew he didn't usually mean it. But she didn't set anybody straight because then she'd have to explain why she was mad at Sam. Nobody ever got mad at Sam.

So she tried to busy herself with other things, like helping to lure semi-conscious kids out of George's car and proofreading essays that really didn't need proofreading if she were really being honest with herself. She was checking her email when she was interrupted.

“Don't you have to be up early?” Derek asked.

“Me?” Casey asked. “What about you? What are you doing up?” She was surprised he'd made it all the way up the stairs before.

By way of explanation, he held up a the last little bit of a sandwich. She should have known. Derek, being Derek, barged in then and looked over Casey's shoulder to see what she was doing. She tried to close the email that Emily'd sent her with the animated kittens before Derek could see it, but his reflexes were faster than hers.

As expected, he chuckled and shook his head at her. He sat on the edge of her bed and promptly got little bits of bacon on her bedspread.

“Why are you here?” Casey asked brushing the bacon off of her quilt before it stained...much.

“Why am I here?” Derek signed chewing the last of his sandwich. “I live here.” He wiped his hands on the leg of his pajama pants.

Casey folded her arms across her chest and waited for him to cut the crap.

“Okay,” Derek said. “I wanna know what was up with you before.”

“What do you mean 'what was up with me before?'” Casey asked.

Derek took one of her hands and showed it to her, as if she were somehow unaware of how much she'd chewed her nails over the past few hours and how there were little ragged flakes on nail polish still clinging to them because she knew that the nail polish remover was going to sting if she used it then.

She pulled her hand back. “Shut up,” she signed.

He looked a bit like he wanted nothing more than to shut up and go to his own room, but something told her that she wasn't going to be that lucky.

“Also, we do not hug each other,” Derek signed. It struck Casey how close the sign for “hug” was to the sign for “love” and it took her a second to realize that he'd meant one and not the other.

“Normal people hug,” Casey signed.

“Good for them” Derek signed. “That's not us.”

“Not you maybe,” Casey said.

“Not you either,” Derek said.

“I always hug,” Casey signed. She knew expecting him to do too much lipreading that late at night would be pushing it.

“That doesn't make you normal,” Derek said.

“Why are you doing this?” Casey signed. “Stop joking around.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Casey,” he said, slurring the -s again. She rubbed her arms to stop the goosebumps. He could say “she sells seashells by the seashore” and it wouldn't bother her. But if he called her Kay-shee, she was sunk.

“Stop being so serious,” he said. When she continued to scowl at him, he crossed his eyes. “Come on, Case.” Kaysh.

“Listen,” he said. “You need to lighten up. It's n-nice that you come to my games. Even though I know it's not your idea.”

She couldn't deny it. She opened her mouth to explain herself, though, and he put his hand on her arm to stop her.

“Because you hate hockey,” he said. “I know. But you came anyway. You still could've stayed home.”

“Really?” Casey said. “You could've fooled me.”

Derek grinned at her. “There's hope for you yet,” he said. “But I'm saying. If it makes you that nervous, you don't have to come, okay?”

Not okay, she thought. “No,” she said. “You better believe that I expect your butt in the seat when I do dance recitals and stuff.” She'd been so busy that she hadn't done one in forever, but still, he was coming if she ever did one. “It's only fair that I come to your playoff games.”

“It's different” Derek signed.

“How?” Casey signed.

“I'm not gonna spend the whole recital worrying about you falling off the stage,” Derek said. “Oh wait, yes I am.” Then he spelled out K-L-U-T-Z-I-L-L-A.

“De-rek,” she said through clenched teeth. He still understood, laughing at her even as she smacked his arm.

“Get out,” she signed. “Go to bed!” He leaned back and pretended to get comfortable on her bed. She tugged at his arm but managed to do little besides mess up her bedspread. She looked around for something to hit him with. He grabbed her pillows and flung them away before she could reach them, so she took off one of her slippers and whacked him with it, but the things weren't sturdy enough to be satisfying. Finally, she picked up one of the cheap body sprays that she got from the bath store and let him know that if he did not vacate her room immediately, he'd not only smell like Sugared Vanilla, he'd sparkle, too.

“You do that, and I'll let a skunk loose in here,” Derek said.

She sniffed at him. “I thought you did.”

He looked at her like he just could not believe she'd said that. He was so impressed that he struggled with keeping his voice down as he laughed. Normally she'd struggle with the temptation to tickle him until he woke the dead, but it was nearly midnight. Once he had it more or less under control, he got up and signed, “Goodnight, Casey.”

“Goodnight, Derek,” she signed. For his name sign, she tapped the letter D three times against her chest, forming the nickname Triple D, for Daredevil Derek. George told her once that Derek had gotten the name from one of his first teachers, back when he first lost his hearing. Apparently Derek loved to climb things and worry his parents. Some things never change.

Part Two: Sam.

Monday at school, the hockey team was a really big deal. Derek got most of the attention, as usual, but some of it even started to spill over onto Sam. To make things funnier, word spread about Derek being on the local news Friday night and everyone and their brother watched him. Someone even sent Sam a link to the thing on YouTube. He'd enjoyed forwarding it to Derek, relishing the barrage of four letter words he'd gotten in reply.

So many people (mostly, but not exclusively girls) stopped Derek to congratulate/hit on him that Sam almost ran interference. He was able to stop himself, though. Doing stuff like that made him feel a little too much like Scooter to Derek's Kermit. Still, Derek looked pretty pitiful trying to bluff his way through a conversation with Motormouth Tina Micelli. After a minute, he gave up on answering her and just smiled and nodded. She seemed okay with that.

“What the hell did she say?” Derek signed after she left.

“You two have a date on Saturday,” Sam signed.

For a second, Derek believed him. Then he came to his senses and punched Sam high up on the arm.

But still, Sam couldn't resist telling Derek something about a puffy shirt.

“I hate you,” Derek signed, then headed to English. Sam grinned behind his back but then caught up with him.

He pretended to be insulted. “I always knew you'd ditch me after you hit the big time,” Sam said.

Derek didn't miss a beat. “Sammy!” he said. “I could never ditch you. Who'd bring me coffee?”

Sam didn't always use it, but he had one really good Glare of Doom. It came in handy during moments like these.

“And keep me out of trouble?” Derek signed, eyebrows raised.

Or get you into further trouble, Sam thought. He knew that he wanted to talk to Derek about what he'd seen the night before, and he thought that Derek might sense this. That meant that he had a narrow window of time before Derek asked out some girl to throw Sam off the trail. Again. Sam wondered if a fake girlfriend could still be called a beard if the guy was straight. One couldn't exactly come out and ask people these things.

“What are you doing after school?” Sam signed after he took his seat.

“Play rehearsal,” Derek signed.

“Really?” Sam signed. It was a rare, hockey practice-less day in playoff season. He really wanted to have that talk (probable fight) with Derek, but other than that, Sam mostly planned to sleep.

“Missed a few rehearsals already,” Derek signed. “Must drive Casey anyway. Easier to stay.” He acted all put-upon at having to drive Casey around, but nobody bought it. First of all, the car was still Derek's favorite new toy and he would have been happy to drive anybody around. Second, and most obvious, it was Casey.

Mrs. Parkinson came in and called the class to order before Sam could say anything else, but he made up his mind to corner Derek after rehearsal. He made that decision early enough to have time to dither over it, Casey-like, the whole day.

Part Three: Derek.

Sam was acting a little off. Derek noticed it, but Ralph was the first one to actually point it out. They were in the cafeteria and Ralph was telling them about his first real drumming 'gig.'

“That's cool,” Sam said, before going back to his scoop of mashed potatoes. It wasn't like Sam not to ask for details, but Derek guessed that he was just tired. They were all running on fumes lately. So Derek stepped in.

“Where you playing?” Derek signed.

“The pep rally on Friday!” Ralph signed, proving that it really didn't take much to make him happy.

“They pay you for that?” Derek signed.

“No,” Ralph said. He began to pout a little. “Still counts.”

Derek shrugged and nodded. He supposed it did still count. Girls liked drummers.

“Just don't wear the vinyl pants,” Derek signed.

They were debating about the merits of his cheesy vinyl pants with Sam staring into space next to them. After a while, Ralph couldn't take it anymore.

“Dude,” Ralph said, snapping his fingers under Sam's nose.

Sam looked up, all cranky, like they'd just woken him up. “What?”

“What is up with you?” Ralph asked.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. Sam was a worse liar than Casey.

Sam and Ralph went back and forth for a few minutes, Ralph calling Sam a zombie and wondering what was on his mind. Sam put him off by saying that there was nothing on his mind, that he was too tired to think. Derek accepted that that was half true, but didn't have time to grill him about it.

Rehearsal was notable mainly for all the grabby-touchy-feely that went on between Noel and Casey. They got separated when they had to work on their actual scenes, but whenever anyone else was running lines, there was enough tickling and play fighting to set off Derek's gag reflex. He tried to tune them out, putting his nose into his script whenever he could, but there they were in the corner of his eye. The actual running of lines with Casey wasn't so bad.

“De-rek!” Casey said, putting her script down for the third or fourth time.

“What is it now?”

“Do you actually have this stuff memorized?”

“Not really,” Derek said. But he did know most of it. They'd spent so much time adapting most of his lines into ASL that Derek had a lot of it down, even after the changes they made. Also, reading the script helped distract him from hockey the past few days. This was a good thing because his competitive nature didn't want him to be less prepared than Casey. This is something that she should have known.

“But you've barely looked at the script,” Casey said.

“So?” Derek said, trying to look nonchalant.

She looked at him with her big googly eyes and Derek didn't get what the hell she meant by that look. So he gave it back to her.

“I know how to read, Casey,” he signed.

That was enough for her to recover her wits. “I'm shocked,” she signed.

“Ha-ha,” Derek said. “I can dress myself, too,” he signed.

Casey looked him over. “No you can't,” she signed. He snickered into his fist.

Then Casey turned her attention to someone behind him. A beat later, he turned to see Mrs. Zeldin, who politely chewed them out for getting off course. Again. Derek was a bit thrown off by the combination of Zeldin's smiling face and her snarky words. It took a second to reconcile the two.

“Sorry, Mrs. Zeldin,” Casey said.

Mrs. Zeldin dropped the smile and raised an eyebrow at Derek. “Sorry,” he said.

“You don't look sorry,” Mrs. Z. said. He tried to look sorrier, hanging his head and digging his toe in some imaginary sand. He peeked at her from under his bangs. She tried not to smile again.

But she made them start over anyway. Funny, Derek thought. She doesn't look like a hardass.

Derek noticed, with some satisfaction, that Casey looked at her script more often than he did. There was still a lot to work out, though, and Zeldin kept stopping them, to do stuff like move them around like chess pieces.

They did the big fight scene, and Casey had a lot of fun slamming the prop door in his face. Derek had a lot of fun blocking the door, or failing that, just walking around the free-standing door frame and continuing to bother her. Casey lost it when he did that, and the sight of her shoulders shaking as she tried to ignore him egged him on further. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Do you want to do this all night?” Mrs. Zeldin asked.

Kinda, Derek thought, surprised.

“Sorry,” Derek lied. He behaved after that, and the two of them had an informal run though. They still had a couple of weeks to go in order to finish memorizing their lines and work out the kinks, and Derek guessed that Zeldin wasn't as mad as she could have been because he knew more lines than she'd expected him to. She'd expected him to be much more behind and she told him so.

“But now that I know what you're capable of,” Mrs. Zeldin said. “I expect you to keep it up.”

See? Derek thought. This is why I don't work hard. She's never gonna stop riding me now.

“So, go get some rest and I'll see you Wednesday,” she said to both of them. Then, to Derek specifically, she said, “And I hope your interpreter can make it?”

“Oh yeah,” Derek said. Christine hadn't been able to stay that day, but she'd already confirmed for Wednesday.

Noel, who had finished up a little earlier, stayed behind, just for Casey.

How nice of him, Derek thought. The nicer the kid was, the more Derek didn't like him. Noel walked Casey to the school parking lot, talking to her the whole time. Derek was a little behind them so he didn't get any of the conversation until they were practically to the car, when Noel decided to walk backwards. Derek could have told him that nothing good came from that, but he kind of wanted to see the kid fall on his ass.

“Okay” Noel was saying. “So I'll tell Sheldon you said no.”

Casey answered him. Derek had no idea what she said.

“You (mumble) good though,” Noel said. Derek saw the outline of Casey's cheekbone and knew that she was smiling.

Noel looked past Casey to Derek. “Derek would tell you to do it, right Derek?”

“Do what?” Derek asked.

“Sing at the pep rally on Friday,” Noel said stopping next to the Prince. “Sheldon says that they need a girl, and Casey's the best singer we know, so...”

“And you think she'll listen to me because...” Derek said.

“She respects your opinion,” Noel said.

“Respects my opinion?” Derek asked. Noel nodded.

Derek laughed for a minute, then, when he thought he could speak well enough, he said, “Good one,” clapping Noel on the shoulder.

“De-rek,” Casey said.

“Somebody's in trouble,” Noel said.

“Noel Covington!” Casey said.

“Ooh,” Noel said, shuddering. He said something about how he was glad she didn't know his middle name. Derek positioned himself next to Noel so he could see her response to that.

“I'll find out what it is,” Casey said. “Don't you worry.”

“Worry,” Derek said.

“I'm worried,” Noel said. Then Casey smiled and took a step forward, starting with the kissy-huggy-touchy again, like Derek wasn't even standing there. Derek groaned.

“I'm so gonna leave without you, Case,” Derek said. Casey rolled her eyes and pulled away from Noel.

“You need a ride?” Derek asked Noel. Say no, say no, say no, he thought. Really, he didn't know why he'd ask such a thing. It was like he was trying to be nice or something.

“No, thanks,” Noel said. “My ride's coming.”

Casey insisted on staying in the cold, nearly empty parking lot until Noel's Mom showed up in a minivan. Why Derek put up with it was anyone's guess. He wanted to leave her there so bad, but of course, he couldn't do that.

After Noel left, Derek climbed into the car, started it up and had to sit there to let it warm up for a few minutes. He could have done this while they were waiting, but somehow that felt like he'd be leaving the lovebirds unsupervised and he couldn't do that.

Having nothing better to do, he turned to Casey. “Why don't you sing on Friday?” he signed.

“No time to practice,” Casey signed. “I don't know the song. Too much to do. I'm tired.”

Derek nodded. She'd have to be tired to pass up an opportunity to show off.

“Why do you care?” she signed.

“I'm bored,” he signed.

“For all you know, I'm the worst singer in the world,” Casey said.

“Please,” Derek said. “If you were, people would throw stuff, but Smarti looks at you like this.” He looked up at her mock-adoringly. “And Edwin says you're good, so...”

Casey smiled. “Derek,” she began. She was about to get gooey.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Derek said. He put the car into gear and began pulling out, so she couldn't say anything else to him.

Derek was tired enough to drive straight home, without even the slightest detour, something he hadn't done since getting his license.

Sam was waiting outside, pacing back and forth in front of the door. He'd forgotten all about Sam and whatever was the matter with him. Derek honked the horn and Sam jumped, putting a hand over his heart like he wanted to make sure it was still beating.

“Oops,” Derek said. He turned to Casey. “Was that really loud?”

“Just annoying,” Casey said.

“Oh, okay,” Derek said. He could live with annoying. He shut off the engine and hopped out of the car.

He tried to sign a question, but Sam was already facing Casey who, Derek guessed, was already asking him what was going on. In fact, Casey was at Sam's side faster than Derek could get there.

So it's not just me, Derek thought. Casey worried about everything, but this time Derek was thinking the same thing. Something was really going on with Sam.

Casey put on hand on either side of Sam's face and said something to him. Sam's eyes widened.

“No, no,” Sam said. He babbled for a few seconds, but as far as Derek could see, he denied anything was really wrong and told Casey to stop overreacting.

“I mean it,” Sam told Casey. “It's okay.”

She said something else and he said “Yeah, I'm sure.” Very quickly, Sam shifted things around so that he was rubbing her arms instead of the other way around. Derek mentally filed that move away for later. It was a good bit of misdirection.

“Nothing,” Sam said, answering something else Casey asked. “I just wanna talk to Derek.”

“Okay,” Derek said. “Upstairs?”

Sam nodded. Once they were safely in Derek's room and the door was shut, he turned to Sam and gestured for him to go ahead and say what was on his mind.

“You won't like this,” Sam signed. “I'm sorry.”

That made Derek's imagination go in all sorts of interesting directions. A couple of possibilities popped into Derek's head right away. The first was that Sam was moving. The second was that he was gay. He hoped Sam wasn't moving.

“It's about you and Casey. I promised both of you I would stay out of it,” Sam signed. “But you almost kissed her last night.”

Derek laughed. For once, he hadn't been expecting this.

“Are you kidding?” Derek signed. “This is what you're being all weird about?”

“Yeah, because I know how you get,” Sam signed. “And I know you don't want to talk about it.”

“Then we're talking about this, why?” Derek signed.

“It's the elephant in the room,” Sam signed.

Derek rolled his eyes. The elephant was perfectly happy. He kept to himself. Didn't even leave shells on the floor. Why pick on the elephant?

“Don't deny it,” Sam signed.

Derek didn't deny it.

“Nothing's gonna happen, Sam,” Derek signed.

“Why not?” Sam signed.

Derek gave him his incredulous face.

“But you want it to happen,” Sam signed.

Derek shrugged like this was the most irrelevant thing in the world. “No matter.”

“Why?” Sam signed. “It should matter. Why don't you just tell her?”

“No,” Derek signed.

“You should.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?” Sam signed. “You almost kissed her, but then you're the one who pulled away, you idiot.”

“She would have knocked my teeth out.” Derek signed.

“You know better than that,” Sam signed.

“Or maybe Nora would have done it,” Derek signed.

“Nora saw you,” Sam signed. “I was standing right there. She knows.”

“Trust me,” Derek signed. “She doesn't.” Derek was pretty confident that if Nora knew, she'd have him fixed. Without anesthetic. Using a pair of child's safety scissors, or a nail clipper. Then and only then would his Dad kill him.

Sam waved his hand in front of Derek's face.

“What are you afraid of?” Sam signed.

Derek said nothing.

“Okay—stupid question,” Sam continued.

“I'm not afraid,” Derek said.

“Yeah you are,” Sam said. “Who are you kidding?”

“Sam, she has a boyfriend,” Derek signed. “He writes poetry and knows about music and stuff.”

“Yeah,” Sam signed. “So what? Nothing stopped you when she went out with me.”

Derek's eyes narrowed. There was just no need to rub his face in that. Sam held up a hand to make sure Derek didn't interrupt.

“You can't get mad at me for that,” Sam signed. “My point is that boyfriend or no, last night you still almost kissed her. You can't help it.”

“This guy's perfect for her,” Derek signed. “I'll get over it.”

“Dude,” Sam said. “No you won't.”

“Yes, I will,” Derek said.

“Derek,” Sam said. “It's been months. You won't.”

The door, which Derek had closed but not locked, opened a crack and Lizzie poked her head in.

“I really need to hire a guard,” Derek said. “What do you want, Lizzie?”

“Mom wants to know if Sam is staying for dinner,” Lizzie said, more or less addressing both of them.

“I can't,” Sam said. “Tell her I said thanks, though.”

“Okay,” Lizzie said. She was about to leave when Sam stopped her.

Oh God, Derek thought.

“Can I ask you something?” Sam asked Lizzie.

“Sam,” Derek said.

“Sure,” Lizzie said. Or maybe it was “Shoot.” Either way, she was still in his room and this was not a good thing.

“No,” Derek said. “Don't think so.”

“Trust me when I say she can keep a secret,” Sam said. “You can, can't you?”

Lizzie looked both surprised and guilty at that. “Yeah,” she said. She shut the door behind her.

“Sam,” Derek said. He wanted to make this stop somehow, but he was flustered, and all he could think of to do was cover his eyes and that would only ensure that he'd miss whatever was coming next.

“So Lizzie,” Sam said.”I was just talking to Derek about something I noticed last night.”

Lizzie's eyes widened. “Um,” she said.

“In the parking lot. After Casey hugged him. Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” Sam asked.

Derek gave Lizzie a pleading look.

“Out of the ordinary?” Lizzie stalled.

“Liz, come on,” Sam said.

“You're gonna make me say it?” Lizzie asked, eyeing Derek nervously.

“Nope,” Derek said leading her toward the door. “Nobody's making you say anything. No matter how many leading questions they ask.”

“Um,” Lizzie said. It wasn't like her to be this nervous. She looked over at Sam, then back at Derek.

“Mom's gonna wonder what happened to me,” Lizzie said.

Lizzie was the one everyone went to for an honest opinion. The fact that she didn't even want to answer the question told him what he needed to know. Lizzie saw the whole thing, too and he was officially toast.

“Go,” Derek signed. Lizzie nodded and took off like the devil was chasing her. He flopped onto his bed and covered his eyes for a few seconds. When he looked up, he saw that Sam hadn't moved from his spot by the dresser.

“Okay, so that didn't work,” Sam said. Except that if Sam took time to think about it, Derek knew that he'd realize that it worked pretty well.

“I'm gonna go,” Sam signed. “But think about this, okay?” Sam reminded Derek that Casey was right next door and wasn't going to go away, so forgetting her was not an option.

That last thing started Derek thinking. Casey was in the next room, and as long as they lived under the same roof it would be difficult for Derek to get over her.

That, however, gave him an idea.

Part Four: Casey.

On Friday, Casey was pulled out of English. They were in the middle of watching the movie version of The Taming of the Shrew, over Casey's protest that it went against everything she and any other self-respecting woman believed in. Shawn Schlepper came in and asked if Casey could be excused. At any other time, Mrs. Parkinson might have thought this was fishy, but she was probably happy to get rid of her. Casey would have been insulted by this, but she wanted no part of this movie.

Shawn had one camera around his neck and one in his hands. He handed the one in his hands to Casey.

“How many photographers do you really need?” Casey asked.

“You wanna go back to class?” Shawn asked.

“Good point,” Casey said.

“So how's your boy holding up?” Shawn asked, once they'd gotten to the gym, where people were finishing up decorations and setting up sound equipment.

“My what?” Casey asked. People kept jumping the gun. She hadn't been dating Noel long enough to call him her anything.

“Derek?”

“Derek's my 'boy'?” Casey asked.

“Did I say 'boy'?” Shawn asked. “Oops. Slip of the tongue. Your bro then.”

“Step-bro,” Casey said.

“Whatever,” Shawn said, rolling his eyes. “How is he?”

“Queasy,” Casey said. “And obnoxious. The usual.”

“Uh-huh,” Shawn said. He had an annoying way of saying “Uh-huh” like he didn't believe her. Sam did the same thing. Thankfully not for the same reasons, but—

She shook her head. There was no reason to think that everyone who uh-huh'ed her was out to torment her about her...thing.

Crush, okay? Crush? Sam seems to think that it's way worse than that, so he keeps uh-huh-ing me, but it's just a stupid crush. Crushes are no big deal. I used to have a megacrush on Adam Brody, but I got over it, somewhat. I got rid of the posters anyway. Adam Brody never gave me this much trouble.

Casey's theory was that it was much better to crush on people that she had little to no chance of ever meeting. This having to share a bathroom and a daily car ride thing was really getting to be a problem. Familiarity was supposed to breed honest contempt not this thing that they did, which might have looked like contempt to an outsider, but was really veiled affection (the brotherly kind) on his part, and a pathetic crush on hers.

Shawn was talking. It took Casey a second to catch up to what he was saying, but she did catch up.

“—total disaster,” he was saying. “High flame. Chopped garlic. Who knew?”

“Everybody?” Casey asked.

“I guess that's why I usually end up on dish duty,” Shawn said. “Can you cook?”

“A little,” Casey said. “Simple stuff.”

“Kraft dinner?” Shawn asked.

“Perish the thought,” Casey said. “Mac and cheese is strictly Derek territory, and he has so little territory left, so we let him keep it.”

“Uh-huh,” Shawn said.

“I'm more of a tuna casserole girl,” Casey said, deciding to ignore the uh-huh for the moment. On the stage, a bunch of kids were setting up microphones and a drum kit. She recognized Ralph, Sheldon, Johnny Stein, and Trevor and decided that they were safe enough to hang out with.

“Casey!” Ralph chirped, when he saw her.

“Ralph...ie,” Casey said. She went for a handshake and he went for the hug. Ralph hugs still occasionally made her think of Of Mice and Men, but the more he did it, the less afraid of personal injury she became. Sheldon seemed to think it was a lot of fun to watch Casey be squished. Trevor and Johnny gave her one quick wave each, then went back to tuning up.

“Where's Derek?” Ralph asked.

“Last I saw, he was sleeping through Shakespeare,” Casey said. She mimed falling asleep at a desk, her head falling forward, then snapping back up, blinking hard.

“How 'bout Sammy?”

“If he's still awake, then he's nudging Derek so he doesn't snore,” Casey said. She tried to make this sound off-hand, but she did not like how often Derek's name was coming up in conversation.

“So,” Casey chirped in a desperate attempt to change the subject. “What's everybody doing this weekend?”

Everybody looked at her. Shawn gestured around himself at the over-decorated gym, reminding her why they were here.

“Oh,” Casey said. “Hockey playoffs, right.”

“Not a big hockey fan?” Trevor piped up.

“Nope,” Casey said. “I abhor violence and I can't help but think that we all should have evolved past the need to hit stuff with sticks.”

“But I thought you loved hockey,” Ralph said, pretending to be confused. “You've been to all the playoff games.”

“Like I had a choice,” Casey said. “Mom and George dragged me, kicking and screaming.”

“Uh-huh,” Ralph said. He answered her glare with a grin. She whacked his arm.

“Hey!” he said. “I thought you didn't like violence!”

“I've been known to make an exception or two,” Casey said.

“Looks like we're just in time,” Sam said.

“She's being all mean to me,” Ralph said. “And I think I like it.”

“That's the first stage,” Sam said. Casey looked past Sam for Derek and had a hard time finding him in the group with the rest of the team, who were busy giving each other noogies and other such Neanderthal behavior. Eventually she saw the right collection of cowlicks standing over by the coach, not really doing much. She saw Christine sitting on a bleacher nearby, waiting to be needed. Sam, of course, looked at her like he knew what was on her mind, but there were too many people around, so she couldn't kill him.

She was going to head over to where Derek was currently holding up the wall to make sure he had mints and stuff to help stave off the inevitable nausea, (four hours and counting till the game) but she was distracted by Shawn, who was telling Sheldon to “stop with the air guitar for the love of God!”

Casey giggled and turned around to see Shawn gripping the mic stand and striking a rock star pose and then handing it off to Sheldon so he could try. It seemed that without an instrument of some sort, the poor kid didn't know what to do with his hands.

“Casey?” Shawn asked. “A little help here?”

Casey took the mic stand from Sheldon, and showed him how to hold it and where to stand. He picked that up easily enough, so she moved on to a couple of pseudo dance moves so that he could look cool and self-assured. Sort of. She took out the camera and got a few good shots of him looking semi-cool and they would probably make it into the yearbook. At least it kept her occupied until more people started to file in for the pep rally.

She asked Shawn to switch cameras with her.

“Why?” he asked, cradling his camera protectively.

“Because this one doesn't zoom,” Casey said. “At all.”

“And this should concern me, why?” Shawn asked.

“Because I wanna get some candids and I can't do that with this camera,” she said. “You're better with the wide shots anyway.” She gave him the puppy face, which led to him rolling his eyes and handing her his camera.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” she said, scurrying off before he changed his mind.

Her first shot was of Derek leaning against that wall, staring off into space. The next one was of Derek and Christine, her eyebrows up and her hand on her chest going upward, signaling a question. She was asking Derek how he was doing. She got another shot of Derek answering her, his nose wrinkled and the corners of his mouth turned downward, so that even if one didn't know how to sign, they'd understand what he was saying.

After that, she decided that it was time to move on. She got shots of the coach and some other kids on the team, most of whom she didn't know. She tried to cover as many people as she could: kids climbing onto the bleachers, the band setting up, the band playing, cheerleaders, but the camera kept freakin drifting to where Derek sat. All on its own.

Principal Lassiter called everyone to order. She got a shot of him yelling at someone that she couldn't see. Then she got a shot of Shawn ogling cheerleaders while ostensibly taking their pictures mid-routine.

Predictably enough, the band played typical pep rally stuff—“We Will Rock You” and “We Are the Champions.” Earlier, Sheldon had told her that they'd wanted to do “Come Original,” but Lassiter vetoed it. They'd wanted Casey to join them so they could try some Pat Benatar, specifically “Hit Me with Your Best Shot.” Sheldon tried to guilt her with the idea of how awesome that could have been, but there'd just been no time.

After a version of “Where It's At” that should not have worked but did, Coach hopped up on the podium and introduced the hockey team members one by one, and they all ran across the gym to the stage. He saved Derek, the captain, for last. Then, Coach handed Derek the microphone. He tried to hand the mic back, but Coach wouldn't allow it. There was a brief pause while they negotiated and the crowd got a little rowdier, chanting De-rek! As if he could hear them. There was some stomping, though, which he had to have felt.

Finally, Derek just signaled to Christine, who came running up and ended up translating for him because, Casey guessed, he didn't feel like talking over this crowd.

“So this is pretty cool,” Christine translated. “On behalf of the rest of the team, I hope to see you all there tonight and tomorrow for the last two games. This was a long season, but I didn't want it to end. If it has to end, I hope it ends on a high note. So how about it? Are you gonna be there?”

He waited for the cheering to subside.

“Are we gonna win?” Christine translated.

More cheering.

“I said, 'Are. We. Gonna. Win?'”

The screaming started to hurt Casey's ears, but she cheered with everyone else. She also had sense enough to wave her hands over her head, which was the ASL version of applause. A small scattered group of grade tens followed suit. She made sure she got some shots of that.

“Well, all right then,” Christine finished. She handed the microphone to Derek to see if he had anything to add. He usually did, but not that day. He handed it back to Coach.

A flash went off in Casey's face.

“SHAWN!”

“Couldn't resist,” he said. “You should have seen your face.” Then he remembered that this was a digital camera and he could show her the face she'd been making. He held it out for her to see, but snatched it back before she could hit the erase button.

The band launched into “One Step Closer” and the cheerleaders did a routine to it. Shawn nudged Casey to remind her what she was supposed to be doing.

Oh yeah, she thought, raising the camera again. She was feeling a little dizzy and overstimulated.

After the pep rally was over, Lassiter dismissed everyone. It was barely 1 pm, so everyone was in a better than usual mood. But all Casey wanted was to upload the pictures so she could go home and take a nap before she got dragged to another game.

“Why don't you just take off,” Shawn said. “I'll upload the pictures for you.”

Casey almost said okay, but...

“No, it's okay,” she said. “I'll do it.”

“It's no big deal,” Shawn said.

“I'd really rather do it myself,” Casey said. “Wanna make sure my best shots make it in. I get the feeling I have a clunker or two in there, though and it's a little embarrassing, so...”

“And there's the twenty or so pictures of Derek you got in there,” Shawn said.

“What?” She'd only taken ten, fifteen at the most.

He looked around to see if anyone was watching, and pulled her into the computer lab, shutting the door.

“Babes, you got it so bad,” he said.

“What?”

“Chillz, I'm not gonna tell anyone,” Shawn said. “Just so you know, though, Case. You're not that good at keeping it secret.”

He let Casey chew on that for a minute.

“Now how bout you just let me pick the ones I might use and you can have the rest,” he said.

Casey stood there with her mouth open for a minute or two then, her face burning, she took off for the exit.

The rest of the night, she avoided Derek like he was radioactive.