DYLAN WASN'T THE ONLY one to be in Miguel's hospital room when she arrived, and that's what made it so tense. Johnny had flung the side table across the room, and it wheeled itself over to the door, narrowly missing Dylan. She'd ditched Demetri with a promise of talking to him again later the second she got the text from Miguel Diaz.

The fact that Dylan Oakes had gone from a dislike towards the All Valley champion to one of the closest pairs of friends she'd ever been with anyone except Demetri Alexopoulos was at times, worrying. Getting close to people was hard. Especially when they knew you and your secrets inside and out. Demetri knew nearly everything there was to know about Dylan. And she could never believe he'd go and do what Eli had done to them both at anytime. But he didn't know everything, and somehow, Miguel knew more about her past than her own best friend did.

Dylan's association with the Diaz boy had become a fireball of friendship. And if she wasn't careful, she'd get burned in the end.

"Ah, shit, sorry kid," He apologized. "Miguel's learning to walk again."

"He is? You are?" She looked over at him, a question in her gaze. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, as he tried to look cooler than he felt.

Miguel always felt like he had to prove himself when the impossibly cool girl came to visit. Being stuck in the hospital after a nasty, not to mention embarrassing fall if he had anything to say about it, was less than ideal for his reputation.

"I guess?" His voice came out all squeaky, and she watched him flinch at the sound of it. If only he knew how much she liked him anyways.

"Thats sounds like a question, Miggy," She commented with the easy-going grin that had become signature to her look. Dylan radiated calm and collected energy, and it was something she wore like a favorite t-shirt.

He slumped in the bed.

"Come on, Miguel. I shoved that across the room and almost killed our neighbor for a reason. Go get it," He demanded.

"I can't walk," He pressed Johnny. "Even with the surgery I might never be able—"

"Quiet!" Johnny yelled, scaring Dylan and cutting Miguel off. "'Never,' 'Can't,' Those are just meaningless words. It's time for you to get out of that bed and do something. You're not a kid anymore. The world isn't just gonna hand it to you. You want something, you're just gonna have to crawl across the floor, use your damn teeth if you have to," Johnny said horsely, trying to hype Miguel up while also tearing him down, in typical Lawrence fashion.

"You'll do whatever it takes. And I'm—who am I kidding," He said, rolling his eyes," We'll always be right here next to you." He pointed between himself and Dylan. "'Cause I'll always be your teacher, and she'll always be your best girl," He said firmly.

Quite frankly, Dylan didn't know why he described her like that, but whatever it took to get Miguel on his feet, she supposed.

"Now go get it," He told Miguel, pure determination in his command. Miguel gained confidence, and Dylan nodded at him in reassurance.

"You got this Miggy Smalls," She encouraged. He glared at her playfully for the nickname she'd put him in as in her contacts.

"Yes, Sensei," Miguel responded, taking the hospital blanket off and shimmying forward. His legs shook the tiniest bit as he tried to get them to work properly again.

"Come on, come on, come on! Ok . . . " Miguel tried to get himself going with his pep talk. He lunged for the table that was four feet away, and then fell onto the floor, unable to pull himself up.

"Oh, shit," Johnny said in disappointment that his encouragement clearly hadn't done much for the kid. Dylan rushed over and the older man followed suit, helping him back up into the bed. "It's alright, you fell like a champ. Uh, nurse!"

"I told you he couldn't do it Johnny," Dylan criticized.

"Yeah, sure you did, you were the one staring at him with stars in your eyes prodding him along," He accused her right back as Miguel put his head in his hands.

"I was not!"

"Were too!"

"Guys!" Miguel yelled at them. They stared at him. "Inside voices!" He whisper-shouted.

"LET'S GO SPEED RACER. I'm gonna work those gimpy legs like a . . . " Johnny opened the door with Dylan following slowly behind him with her head ducked down in shame as he paused, taking in the scene. "Rented mule." He stopped, watching a man he didn't know stretch Miguel's legs. "Sorry. I thought you said at ten that you'd be alone."

"I told you you were dead wrong," Dylan gritted out awkwardly. Miguel's cheeks were red in embarrassment, though the man didn't seem to notice his struggle and continued to move his legs around.

"Hi, Dylan!" Carmen said to her, smiling. "I forget that you know Johnny pretty well." She smiled awkwardly at the man who returned the gesture. There was definitely unresolved tension there. And more than one kind, unfortunately.

"Sorry, my mom gets free physical therapy from work," Miguel explained to them. "Uh, it's pretty cool, actually . . . " He tried to convince Dylan. "This was the only time Brayden was available."

"I'm sure," She agreed to his awful take at convincing her. He pulled a face at her sarcasm. She looked closer at the guy. "Oh, hey Brayden! What's good man?"

"Just peace and love, Dylan!" The guy responded. Johnny looked at her like she was crazy.

"You know this lun—I mean therapist?" He fixed his words at Carmen's pointed look. She held out her hands in a shrug.

"My grandma had him for PT like four years ago," She explained lightly. Johnny made a little 'huh,' and continued to judge the guy.

"Mahalo," Brayden said. Dylan had to admit, he gave off major stoner vibes, not that she could blame him really.

"Be done soon if you wanna wait," Miguel told Johnny. "Uh, or not you know, cause it's really up to you Dylan," He turned to her, trying to play off the less than ideal situation. "It's chill."

"I'll wait," She told him, grinning at how uncomfortable he looked. He gave her a look that told her that he was really regretting playing the nice guy card. He'd probably have a few choice insults laid out if his mother wasn't there.

"Now, if you're feeling any pain, hermano, let me know," Brayden continued.

"Still no feeling whatsoever," Miguel sighed unhappily. Carmen bit down on her nails, obviously worried for her son's lack of feeling in his legs. Who knew when he'd be able to feel them again?

"No worries. Positive thoughts, remember?" Brayden reminded him. Carmen nodded at her son. Johnny rolled his eyes, mumbling something under his breath. "You're doing great!"

"At what, letting you lift his legs?" Johnny questioned him.

"Johnny, Brayden is a specialist in his field. He knows what he's doing," Carmen said sternly. Dylan shrunk into herself, feeling just as uncomfortable being there watching the tension between her adult neighbors, as Miguel was feeling around her.

"Slow, deep breaths," He instructed. Both Brayden and Miguel did the necessary breathing exercises, and Johnny side-eyed Dylan. "Inhale joy and love."

"Can you believe this shit?" He mumbled under his breath.

"Shut up. I'm trying to follow along." He glared at her as Dylan followed along with the exercise. Sure enough, she was holding her breath as she counted to three, before letting it go. Johnny stared at her like she was crazy, which to be fair, she probably was.

"You have no shame," He told her, shaking his head. He looked back at Brayden and Miguel as they continued the exercises. "You gotta be shitting me," Johnny blurted out, unable to control himself.

"Johnny!" Carmen exclaimed. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Carmen dragged him into the kitchen and began to nicely lecture him. Miguel and Dylan stared at each other. Finally, Brayden was done and helped Miguel into the wheelchair.

"Does your lady friend wanna help roll you out?" Brayden asked them. There was a pause.

"Oh! We—We're not . . . "

"It's not like . . . " Both Miguel and Dylan trailed off awkwardly at the same time. Regardless, she wheeled him outside anyway.

"My apologies. I just felt the positive vibrations between you guys and your auras and just thought—" He started as he loaded up his things in the van. Miguel didn't notice his Sensei and his mother following them out the door, finished with their intense conversation.

"That's really uh, cool Brayden, but we're just friends," Miguel tried to explain to his physical therapist.

"All good hermano! I'm 'rockin with that too!" He held up a 'hang loose' sign and shut the van door. A second later, he'd already forgotten the awkward subject of his patient's relationship status and moved on. "Great job today, hefe. You crushed it!"

Dylan zoned out after hearing Miguel speak more negatively about his progress. He'd really have to work on that. Though she had always been just as negative about most things. She also happened to miss Johnny's disappearance until a rather . . . interesting magazine hit her in the face from a fishing line. Thankfully, Carmen had gone back inside and Brayden had left.

"What—"

"'Outta the way, nerd!" Johnny yelled down at her. She moved, and looked up with her face blocking the sun so she could watch him. "This is a collection of the tastiest babes of 1988. Now you're not gonna get to see 'em unless you grab it," He explained to Miguel, who wheeled himself over to look at him like he was severely out of touch.

"Okay . . . "

Johnny pulled it out of reach when he tried to grab it.

"Ah, you're gonna have to try harder than that," Johnny told him, reeling it in and moving the fishing pole around so the boy couldn't get to it.

"Fishing for girls doesn't have to be this hard, usually," Dylan said, criticizing Johnny's methods almost immediately. "It would also be a good point to note that no one really looks at . . . magazines like this anymore."

"It is for Diaz over here. And I think that's another downright lie from you, considering last time I went in to get my computer fixed you tried to convince me that it wasn't actually broken and I just had to use a charger," He told her, proud of himself for that one.

"That's because it wasn't!" She exclaimed loudly.

"Dylan's right, about well—about everything, but specifically the fact that I can just look these up on my phone. You know that, right?" Miguel questioned him, unsure of Johnny's rationality.

"It's not the same. Chicks are hotter on the page," He tried to convince them. "It's like seeing Bustin Timbersnake or what's his face," He told Dylan, trying in vain to make her understand. "Mac Lefron."

"Oh golly, my favorites," She said dryly. " Color me impressed, Lawrence."

"Really?" He asked her hopefully.

"No." She looked irritated. "Don't you think we can find a more productive way? This isn't getting us anywhere," She pointed out.

"It's this or watching him get more foot rubs from his pansy-ass therapist." Johnny continued to dangle the magazine in front of a very much uninterested Miguel.

Dylan watched, utterly bemused as Miguel tried to reach as far as he could for the magazine, only to fall on the ground. He groaned, and looked to her for assistance.

"A little help?"

"What are the magic words?" She taunted him, standing above him with her arms crossed over her chest. He grinned slyly at her.

"Help me up or I tell everyone at school when I get back just how often you listen to the High School Musical Three soundtrack?" He teased her back. The smile slipped off her face, though he could tell she still found him amusing enough not to kick him into next week. "Those the words you're looking for?"

"I think they were, 'Remember when Kyler pansed you in gym class?'" She questioned, adding quotation marks. Johnny cut off the moment with a round of laughter, making his way towards them and quickly helping Miguel back into his wheelchair.

"Those are some magic words," Miguel replied, unamused. She winked at him.

"Alright, gimme a minute and we'll go again," Johnny told them both, snapping his fingers. "I think I still got my Vanna White playboy. That'll get you going," He said, smirking suggestively at Miguel and ignoring the fact that Dylan was standing a foot away from them, scarred for life.

"Don't you get it? You could dangle a new PlayStation in front of me and I still wouldn't be able to stand up," Miguel said dejectedly. Dylan followed him even after Johnny had decided not to push it anymore, at least for a few minutes. She grabbed the handles of his chair.

"Hey, not with that attitude! Glass half full, isn't that what everyone says?"

"Like you're any more positive," Miguel grumbled, turning back to look at her. He slapped her hands off the handles. She lightly slapped him in the face. "You cruel woman. Since when have you decided to watch my every move?"

"Since you started acting like the eight year olds I used to babysit who throw tantrums every five seconds when their problems don't magically disappear," She responded like it should have been obvious. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll kick ass and take names again soon enough, but you can't expect it to happen just a few days after you get out of the hospital," She pointed out.

"So do you have any major plans for poor, paralyzed Miguel?" He joked humorlessly. "Because right now you just seem like you're content watching Johnny's hopeless experiments."

"Depends. You wanna come to my shift at work tomorrow and watch me argue with more middle schoolers? That should have you up and running in under five minutes." He watched her closely as she continued to wheel him around in circles on the pavement. "That's not a joke. It's rough."

"As long as I'm not tortured until I'm dizzy like right now then I think that would work out just fine, Dyl," He said, reaching once again for her hand and slapping it away.

"Ouch—"

"Dickheads!" Johnny yelled at them, pulling a grill over with a set of supplies. He lit it up, and called them over. "You know why this is called a Hibachi grill?"

"No, I don't," Miguel said dryly.

"Light me on fire before you go into a false history lesson, please," Dylan begged, earning her a glare and a scowl.

"A hundred years ago, in ancient China, there was a tiny little village of dairy farmers, living fat off their milk and cheese. When the drought came, and they needed to water from the river, none of the Chinamen wanted to do their work," Johnny began. Dylan closed her eyes and sighed.

"I'm not sure that's the correct term," Came Miguel's quiet voice, correcting him.

"Dylan, would you stop giving my student history lectures? You're ruining him. Thanks," Johnny accused. "China people, whatever. The point is, they were laying around in hammocks waiting for rain. So a wise man gathered a bunch of twigs and stuffed it under a bunch of the villagers while they slept. And you know what he did then?"

"Lit a fire under them?" Miguel answered.

"Exactly. That's where the expression comes from. You know what that wise man's name was?" He asked Miguel again. Dylan noticed that Johnny seemed to be making his story up as he went along.

"Hibachi?"

"Damn straight," Johnny answered him with a smile.

"Except Hibachis are from Japan, not China, where there weren't a lot of dairy farmers historically, or hammocks. Did you think I was gonna fall for that?" Miguel asked him smugly. Dylan whistled.

"Shit, Miguel. Maybe not, but I don't really think that was the point . . . " She pointed out, making Johnny look at her with gratification, and Miguel in confusion.

"No, but I knew you'd be too busy calling my bullshit to know what I was really up to," Johnny began.

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"Take a wild guess, Twinkle Toes," Dylan retorted. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"What?" He asked her.

"Lighting a fire under you," Johnny finished.

"What did you do . . . ?" Miguel trailed off nervously, looking down and gasping. "What did you do!" Johnny trapped his arms so he couldn't put out the fire on his shoelaces unless he moved his feet. "Are you insane?"

"Depends on who you ask. Dylan would say so judging by the look on her face. Come on, Diaz! Shake a leg!"

Dylan watched them argue back and forth as the flame inched up the lace and closer to his actual shoe. No matter how hard he tried, his legs still didn't move. Johnny quickly grabbed a fire extinguisher and put out the flame, ruining his shoes.

"Hold on, it's still smoking," Dylan observed, unscrewing her water bottle and splashing a little bit on her friend's smoking shoe. He stared up at her again.

"Really?"

"What? Did you want me to grab a hose? Wash you down?" She asked him with a small laugh. Then her face got serious. "Wait a minute, that's not so bad of an idea. Johnny!"

"On it!" He yelled back at her, snapping his fingers again as he found the garden hose.

"Absolutely not! How is this supposed to help anyone?" Miguel questioned, rolling backwards with a look of terror as he tried to escape Dylan's determination to waterboard him. "I thought we were helping me, not harming me!" He pleaded.

"Why not both?" Johnny turned it on while Dylan held it, spraying Miguel down with the freezing water. He yelled out a string of curses.

"Fuck, Dylan!" His voice came out all high pitched and awkward as he frantically tried to avoid her. She walked closer to him with a laugh. "This isn't funny!"

"It is for me!"

However, Miguel got lucky when she got close enough, dousing him with water as he faked defeat. He lunged to grasp her wrist, pulling her closer and whipping the hose out of her hands in her moment of surprise.

"I take it back, this just got a lot more fun for me." He wrung out his wet hair, causing the droplets to spray her face and arms.

"Hey fuck you, man!"

Johnny turned off the hose, sighing as he took in the mess of water and Miguel's soaked figure. He rolled his eyes at them. Carmen was going to be so happy to see her son sopping wet with cold water when he went inside later.

"You know I'm wearing white, right?" She asked Miguel, squinting her eyes. She waited for him to understand what she was getting at.

"So? What does that—" It took him a minute before it hit him. He frantically started to apologize. "Oh my god, I didn't even think about that! I'm so sorry—"

"Yeah, it's not that big of a deal. Just watch where you spray that thing next," She replied, giving him a look as he flushed.

Miguel shoved Dylan lightly, and she rolled her eyes at him, though both of them were at least happier than they were before.

"Why do you guys always have to make my job so much harder?" Johnny complained, throwing a towel at Miguel. "Dry off and get changed. I have another idea."

"Can't wait!" Miguel threw his arms up sarcastically. "I love being held hostage!"

author's note —

i actually don't really like this chapter. but i hope you guys did. next chapter is going to deal with a lot, and i'm not quite sure how to go about it. don't expect it for a while though because i'm going to be out of town for about a week looking at more colleges.