"Sami!" Duder knocked on her door. "Sami...you'll never guess who's downstairs..."

Sami threw on her hoodie and trudged downstairs. Nigel Waters was sitting at their breakfast island.

"Hi," Sami said weakly as she plopped down on her usual stool across from the record shop owner.

Nigel's eyes seemed less soft then they had been yesterday in the recording session. "So," he said, trying to be casual. "About your music – what inspired it?"

Sami and Duder exchanged a nervous glance. "Well...it just...I was trying to express..." Sami racked her brain for words.

Nigel smiled grimly. "I thought so," he said, and then said, "You didn't write that music, did you?"

Sami's eyes filled with tears and her head lowered with shame.

Duder looked crestfallen. "I – you're right," he said miserably. "We didn't write it. This was bound to happen," he said hopelessly.

How did you find out? Sami wanted to ask. But she didn't need too.

"You know my friend, Arthur?" asked Nigel. "From out of town?"

Sami and Duder nodded.

"After you guys left, he pulled out his briefcase. Had a burned CD. Apparently he went scouting in the neighborhood a few months ago, and some kid – Calvin? Kent?"

"Kevin," said Sami numbly.

"Yes, Kevin. Anyway, he'd thought your music sounded alike, so he pulled it out, and surprahs – same lyrics,"

"Oh no," whispered Sami.

"And then around six A.M. today, we got an anonymous tip-off that Little White Lie had committed little white lie – stealing their music. They also sent in a burned CD of that song."

"Tanya," mouthed Sami to Duder. His eyes widened.

"So now what?" asked Sami. "Do we have to go to jail or make a public apology or something?"

Nigel smiled. "Lucky for you, Arthur has no problem with subterfuge."

"Good, I like fudge, too," Duder smiled tightly.

Nigel snickered. "It means he doesn't mind that you stole your music."

Sami exhaled loudly. "So..."

"So I want you to keep doing what you're doing," said Nigel.