00: I LIKE BARBRA STREISAND. DO YOU LIKE BARBRA STREISAND?

        ALLISON REED feels like she has the worst luck on the whole damn planet.

        "So, a reminder that this person will be your working partner for the duration of this semester, and, therefore, your upcoming project," her AP English teacher had told the class earlier that morning with her usual amount of apathy. "There will be no stropping, no tantrums, no but Miss Rosenberg, she was, like, a total bitch to me in the eighth grade, and - of course - no swapping. Is that clear?"

        At the class' mumbled assent, Miss Rosenberg had continued with her monologue, the words punctuated with the click-clack of her high heels on the linoleum of the floor as she moved around the room. Allison herself had been paying a minimal amount of attention to her teacher, it being Monday morning and her not being awake enough to have moved past desperately missing her bed.

        "...this will be due by the end of the semester, but knowing you all, it's likely that I'll have to extend the deadline at some point. One last thing - I want this to be original. It's your last year of high school, kids. That might be an excuse for slacking off, but it's also an excuse to do something that makes me not completely regret taking up this profession. Your project brief is open; use that to your advantage. Make me feel like you're seniors - conscious almost-adults with a drive to do something, not just a bunch of freshmen who are here because you need the credit." Miss Rosenberg had paused here, lips pursed, then added: "Although it wouldn't hurt to keep in mind that this counts for half your grade."

        The class had made a sound halfway between a groan and a sigh. It might've just been that Allison was sleepy, but she could've sworn that Rosenberg was smiling, that devil.

        "So, now that I've clarified that - Jonathan Goldstein with Laura Bell...Lindsay Brannum with Regina Crouse...Sheryl Marshal with James Neal...Brent Schaefer with Keith Medina...Vanessa Johnson with..."

        Allison had been close to falling asleep on her desk when her own name was called.

        "...Allison Reed with Toby Martin..."

        Suddenly, Allison didn't feel so sleepy any more. Instead, she felt unlucky. Very, very unfortunate. And it's how she felt through the rest of English. And Calculus. And History. And it's how she's feeling now in the cafeteria, which is the main reason she's staring despondently at her lunch.

        "Allison?"

        It's not that Toby's a bad guy...

        "Allison?"

        ...actually she's pretty sure he's the exact opposite, with the whole puppy dog thing he's got going on...

        "Allison? Seriously?"

        ...but the thing is, he has shitty taste in best friends. Total shit. Awful. Daniel Smith is a shit best friend. He must be. And if he isn't - whatever. It doesn't matter what kind of best friend to Toby Martin Daniel Smith is. It matters that he is her ex-boyfriend.

        "Allison!"

        And that sucks.

        "Allison!"

        Allison pulls herself out of her inner soliloquy with a frown painted on her face. "What?"

        Lydia raises her eyebrows. "Oh, no way," she says. "You do not get to zone out on me like that and then pull the Annoyed Allison card."

        Allison's brows remain drawn, but less tightly. She lets out a resigned sigh. "Sorry," she says in a grudging tone of voice. "Hasn't been a good morning."

        "It's a Monday," Lydia says, neglecting her lunch in favour of studying her nails. "In what parallel universe is a Monday morning good?"

        "Apparently the same one in which I'm unlucky enough to get Toby Martin as my partner in English," Allison mutters in response beginning to shovel a spoonful of the cafeteria's latest offering of nondescript sludge into her mouth.

        Lydia pauses in her search for nonexistent flaws in her manicure, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Mm. Would've been your best man, once upon a time."

        Allison glares. There are things that are okay, and currently jokes about her and Daniel's breakup isn't one of them, even though it's been, like, months, so jokes about her and Daniel's breakup should be one of them. "I'm glad you find this so funny."

        "Of course I do," Lydia responds with an arched brow. "The universe was bound to screw you over at some point."

        Allison just manages to stop herself from saying that she's pretty sure the universe screwed her over when her and Daniel broke up, but it sounds whiny in her head, so she doesn't doubt that it'll sound far worse out of it. Instead, she settles for intensifying her glare further. Lydia sighs.

        "Allison, not to belittle your problems and all," she says, "but is this really a big deal? I mean, he's your ex's best friend. Who cares? It's just for the rest of the semester, anyway."

        "Just for the semester?" Allison repeats incredulously. "We started the semester last week."

        Lydia purses her lips, considering Allison's point. "At least his I.Q. is over forty," she offers finally. "It could be worse."

        "Sure it could."

        "You could be paired with Daniel."

        "Daniel isn't even in our class."

        "Right," Lydia says, smiling pleasantly. "I forgot that Daniel Smith and I.Q. below forty are pretty much the same category."

        "Hey, that's not fair," Allison defends automatically, before frowning at herself, because already, all this is doing is further demonstrating that Allison is not over Daniel, and she wants to be, and she should start now, probably, because she's pretty sure that immediate defence of one's ex-boyfriend isn't okay. Especially since one's ex-boyfriend is the one who broke up with one, and not the other way round.

        God, this is so bad. Screw English, Allison thinks to herself. And Rosenberg, and paired work, and Daniel Smith, and Toby Martin, even though he's a completely innocent ingredient in this recipe for disaster. Across from her, she sees Lydia giving her a smile that seems halfway between sympathetic and amused, and scowls.

        "Shut up," she says.

        "Didn't say anything."

        "Shut up."

        "Okay."

        For the rest of lunch, Allison kind of manages to forget about the whole thing - or, at least, convince herself that Lydia's right and it really isn't a big deal - until her free period, when Toby Martin himself decides to come and ruin the party by standing in front of her with a wide smile on his face that she a) does not like the look of and b) does not think she is capable of returning.

        "Hey, Allison!" he exclaims happily. Allison wrinkles her nose involuntarily at his almost superhuman enthusiasm, which, up till now, she's observed from afar, but has not had the pleasure of experiencing first hand.

        "Hey, Toby," she returns on a sigh.

        "What's up?" Toby asks, smile unfortunately showing no signs of removing itself from his lips any time soon.

        "Everything," Allison says miserably before she can stop herself. Toby's smile disappears so quickly and unexpectedly that Allison blinks in surprise.

        "I know you're not exactly over the moon about us being paired together," he acknowledges with a sympathetic smile, fiddling with his own fingers in a way Allison finds inexplicably annoying. "But we can't change it, so we might as well ace the project, right?"The sympathy in Toby's smile changes slightly, hesitantly making way for more of his familiar enthusiasm. "I mean, it counts for half our grade, so..."

        Allison takes a moment to study Toby's face for any signs of insincerity. Upon failing to find any, she sighs (again - she's been doing a lot of it lately). "I guess," she says, unable to keep the reluctance from her voice.

        "Great!" Toby rejoices, sunny smile returning full force. "That's actually what I wanted to talk about." He draws out the chair opposite hers and sits down without invitation.  Allison frowns, but Toby is seemingly oblivious.

        "Okay..."

        "Okay, so - researching art forms and storytelling, right? Like, impacts on society, how the story is told, implications that are in the story itself..."

        "I don't want to do books, or something," Allison says, straight off, because yeah, it is half their grade, and yeah, that means she means business.

        "Oh, I don't either!" Toby nods vigorously, and, not for the first time, Allison is reminded forcibly of a puppy. "I was actually thinking we should pick musicals!" he suggests, eager.

        There is a long, drawn-out silence. Allison is very aware of the sinking feeling in her stomach.

        "Allison?"

        "I'm sorry, what?"

        "We should totally do musical theatre as our art form," Toby repeats, smiling broadly. The sinking feeling in her stomach turns into more of a horrible falling-off-a-cliff sensation.

         "You are kidding, right?" she tries desperately. When Toby's expression wavers only slightly - to allow for a hint of confusion - she slumps back into her seat, running a hand through her hair. "Okay, you're not," she mutters.

        In retrospect, Allison should have seen this coming. Toby is not only a renowned theatre freak, but the school's resident star, landing a lead role in the school's winter and summer musicals every year since...forever.  Even so, it's no excuse for Toby to incorporate his, quite frankly, disturbing obsession into a piece of work that will count for half of her entire grade this semester. There will be no musicals on this project, Allison decides firmly. Toby Martin's puppy dog eyes notwithstanding.

✦

        "I'm so glad you agreed to this!" Toby tells a disgruntled Allison excitedly as she shuts her locker with a slam that's a little too pronounced.

        "I'm not," she returns grimly as they begin to head towards the exit of the school.

        "You will be, eventually," Toby assures her, trotting by her side with a smile. "So - wanna hit up Brewed Awakening?" he asks, casting her a sidelong glance. "Then we can work out what we're doing and all."

        Brewed Awakening has a despicable excuse for name, sure, and the whole mismatched we-made-all-this-from-scratch-yes-even-the-tables-and-chairs vibe it has going on might not be everyone's thing, but Allison, like pretty much everyone who lives on Manhattan's Upper East Side, knows that it sure as hell does better drinks than Starbucks.

        She purses her lips, then says: "Sure." There are worse ways to spend her afternoon, she supposes.

        "Toby!"

        Toby and Allison turn in unison to see Daniel Smith himself running to catch up with them, a wide smile easily placed on his face. Despite herself, Allison feels a twinge of pain near her heart.

        "Did you wanna go back to mine to hang out?" Daniel asks Toby once he's reached the pair of them. "Hey, Allison," he offers her a crooked half-smile that's enough to make her next breath stick in her throat.

        "Hi," she manages breathlessly, suddenly hooked in by the dimple in his left cheek and the vivid memory of how his dark hair felt beneath her fingers. She's dimly aware of Toby giving her a glance, but her heart is thudding too loudly in her ears for her to make out the conversation the two boys in front of her are having.

        "...with Allison." The sound of Toby saying her name jolts Allison out of her Daniel-induced trance.

        "Huh?" she says dumbly.

       "I'll see you later then," Daniel nods, ignoring Allison's (admittedly not very valuable) contribution to the conversation completely. "See you, guys." He gives them both another heart stopping smile, and Allison almost feels herself go weak at the knees.

        "Uh, Allison?" Toby is studying her with a mix of concern and amusement, a combination almost identical to the one that had been in Lydia's gaze earlier that day. "You okay there?"

        "Yeah," she breathes, watching Daniel retreat down the hallway, only turning back to Toby when she loses sight of him, then clears her throat. "I, uh, yeah. I mean - yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

        "Hm, I don't know." Toby shrugs, biting his lip in a clear attempt to keep a smile at bay as they resume their journey to the school gates.

        "Shut up," Allison snaps.

        "Didn't say anything."

        She gives him a glare so murderous that he winces involuntarily. "I mean...sorry?" he corrects hesitantly.

        "That's better."

        This is how much of their journey to Brewed Awakening goes, although it's also interspersed with regular attempts from Toby at some kind of conversation that tend to fall a little flat. Allison isn't exactly the best conversationalist - that's more Lydia's forte - and it's here that it starts to show. By the time they've seated themselves with their drinks at a table by the window, there's been a slightly uncomfortable silence between them for the past fifteen minutes.

        "So," Toby starts, clearing his throat. "Project."

        "Mm."

        "Okay." He pauses, and Allison can see him fiddling with his fingers again. She almost sighs. "Okay. Musicals."

        "Musicals." This time Allison does sigh, because yes, she's been convinced to do this, but by God she is not happy about it.

        The discussion begins as they try and sort out a reasonable plan for the upcoming project. Part of Allison feels uncomfortable at the memory of the several afternoons she used to spend with Daniel here, and she supposes that that's why the rest of her is picking as many arguments with Toby as possible over every miniscule and irrelevant detail she can dig up about their impending research project. To his credit, the boy seems to have endless amounts of patience, countering her pointed (and pointless) comments and criticism with only wide, sincere smiles and good, clean logic.

        "Let's say...thirty?"

        Allison's eyebrows shoot up. "Thirty?"

        "Well, yeah." Toby nods. "I mean, we can manage it within the time frame, and it's enough for us to have good research material but not too much that -"

        "Not too much?" Allison repeats incredulously. "You think watching thirty musicals isn't too much?"

        "It's never too much when it comes to musical theatre," Toby grins around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie, pointing his pen at Allison.

        "Yeah, says you," Allison scoffs.

        "You're going to be happy we decided on thirty," Toby informs her. "I'm serious, Allison. I'm going to make you fall in love with musicals."

        "I'm sure you will," Allison says dryly, but doesn't protest further, causing Toby to grin and write thirty musicals to watch in his large, loopy cursive on the piece of paper in front of him.

        "Here's the fun part," he says. "The musicals we're gonna do!"

        "Hooray," Allison says monotonously, voice completely devoid of enthusiasm.

      "So, d'you have any you wanna watch?" Toby asks her, ignoring her cynicism for what is probably the thousandth time today alone.

        "Toby." She gives him a look. "Do you really think I watch musicals enough to have any preferences?"

        "No," he replies, drawing out the vowel sound. "But I didn't want to assume."

        Allison snorts. "You can assume all you like. Musicals are weird."

        "No way, Allison! Musicals are, like, the only things in the world where you can randomly break out into song and dance and have no one judge you!"

        "Exactly," Allison exclaims in response, showing an emotion other than pessimism for the first time since they set foot in the coffee shop. "How is that not weird?"

        Toby opens his mouth to respond, then frowns and closes it, slumping back into his seat. Allison smirks through a sip of tea.

        "Anyway," he says, recovering from the metaphorical blow with admirable speed. "Guess I'll have to compile the list myself, then."

        "I doubt you'll run out of ideas," Allison retorts wryly.

        "Okay." Toby ignores her comment, tapping the pen against his notebook. "Ever seen Grease?"

        "Yeah, I think so," Allison frowns, dimly recalling Olivia Newton-John in a leather jacket at some point.

        "Okay, we're watching that one again," Toby sticks his tongue out as he writes. "You'll probably have something to say about it. It's not exactly a great one for feminism."

        "Fine," Allison sighs. "How are we going to keep track of this research, anyway? Write down a detailed review after watching each one?"

        "No," Toby says, eyes bright with excitement as he looks at her. "We're going to keep a video log."

        Allison almost chokes on her mouthful of tea. "Keep a what?"

        "You heard me the first time," Toby rolls his eyes with what she discerns as some kind of affection at her scepticism (God knows why).

        "Yeah, I did," she agrees. "I was just repeating because I didn't think you'd offer a suggestion so stupid."

        "How is it stupid?" Toby doesn't look at her, already scrawling the names of more musicals down. "I'm putting down The Wizard of Oz."

        "Okay, whatever - and of course it's stupid! We're doing a Lit project, not trying to become internet famous!"

        "We won't, like, post it anywhere, and Miss Rosenberg said we could record our research in any form we wanted to," Toby argues, still not looking up. "How about Funny Girl? I like Barbra Streisand. Do you like Barbra Streisand?"

        "Sure, she's cool - Toby, I am not going to film myself talking about musicals!"

        "You won't be filming yourself," Toby tells her with a slightly bemused frown (although why he's the one that's confused, Allison isn't quite sure), looking up for the first time during the argument.

        Allison pauses for a second, then sighs in relief, leaning back into her chair. "Oh, good," she says. "At least I've convinced you to see sense this tim –"

        "I'll be filming you!"

She doesn't even have to look at Toby's face to be sure of his genuineness. "Dear God," she mutters to herself.

        "And you can film me! And then - sometimes, we can do some together! And talk about our different reactions and stuff! It'll be great!"

        There are many words that come to mind that, in Allison's opinion, accurately describe the situation she is currently in. Great is not one of them.

✦

        "Allison!"

        Toby's voice has become easily definable to her over the past few days. The realisation irks Allison slightly, for some reason. Either way, she turns around, a sigh on her lips and distinctly unimpressed expression on her face.

        "Hey, Toby," she says.

        "Hi." The billion-watt smile he gives her could probably power all the homes in their neighbourhood. "I just needed to check something about -"

        "Our English project," Allison finishes.

        "Yeah! How did you guess?"

        "What else would you be talking about?" she frowns.

        Toby blinks. "Oh. Yeah." Allison is beginning to feel awkwardness settle over her, because she's pretty sure her point was decent, but it appears that her view isn't shared, and she isn't sure why. Toby's nice enough, and God knows he puts up with her pessimism, but it's not like they're going to be linking arms as they walk or making each other friendship bracelets any time soon.

        "Anyway," Toby says, tugging her out of her thoughts. "I just wanna check with you where you think we should do the project."

        "Uh," Allison feels her brow furrow. To be honest, she didn't quite think they'd even need to do that. It's not like Allison has a means of obtaining all the musicals on Toby's list. Besides, she has a distinct feeling that he already has them. "Your house, maybe? I mean, if that's okay with you..."

        "Sure, totally." Toby nods eagerly. "I was kind of thinking along those lines anyway, I just didn't want you to think..." he trails off.

        "Didn't want me to think what?"

        "Never mind," he shakes his head, offering her another grin. "Well, we still need to kind of tie up a few loose ends with the organisation and stuff, so d'you wanna maybe stop by mine after school? " he says in a rush. "I mean, only if you want to. I just thought you'd get to see where you'd be watching musicals for the next month." He gives her a small smile that she knows has melted several girls' hearts before (Toby Martin is certainly far more promiscuous than he seems).

        "Okay," she begins to walk towards her locker.

        "Cool," he walks next to her, then gives her another wide smile. She almost winces at its brightness.

        "Cool," she echoes him, opening her locker door and effectively using it as a divider between her and Toby.

        "Okay. Uh, see you later, then!" Just because she can't see Toby's face, doesn't mean she can't clearly envision his expression, and she rolls her eyes to herself.

        "Yup."

        "Bye!"

        "Bye, Toby."

        The day goes by relatively quickly - Lydia tries not to snort when Allison mentions going round to Toby's for their project, and Allison glares at her, the subject changes, Lydia says incredibly smart things and incredibly rude things about the rest of the student population then continues to socialise with all of them in true queen bee fashion, Allison rolls her eyes a lot. Then she meets Toby in the parking lot, and they take the subway to his house, and this is what she notices first:

        Toby's house is big.

        She's no stranger to big living spaces - Lydia lives in a penthouse apartment - but Allison always feels distinctly uncomfortable in unnecessarily large and empty places. It took her months to get used to Lydia's apartment; she isn't sure she's looking forward to getting used to Toby's house, either.

        "So," Toby hangs up his coat by the door and gestures for Allison to do the same. "Bathroom is over there, kitchen is over there, television room is where we're going now, and –"

        "And I am not going to remember any of that," Allison finishes.

        Toby makes a face that clearly conveys the phrase fair enough. "Oh, don't bother taking off your shoes," he says, frowning as she does exactly that.

        Allison ignores him, taking them off anyway, and almost falls over in the process. Quickly, she steadies herself against the wall, but the whole thing is enough to remind her of Daniel; how he'd ask her to take off her shoes because his mom was a clean freak, how she'd always be really bad at doing so without losing her balance, how Daniel's arms would wrap around her waist and he'd prop her back and they'd both laugh and kiss with smiling lips.

        "Allison?"

        "Hm?"

        "You okay?"

        Allison squeezes her eyes shut and lets out a breath. "You're staring," she manages in response. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

        Toby blinks, then shakes his head slightly as though scolding himself. "Sorry," he apologises, offering a smile.

        She eyes him for a moment, then shakes her own head. "Do you never stop smiling?"

        Toby shrugs. "Smiles are better than frowns," he tells her knowingly.

        "What's that supposed to mean?"

        Toby grins, but it's different from his usual smile, cockier. "Whatever you want it to," he tells her.

        She scowls. "Shut up."

        "Oh, no witty comeback?" he says, laughter in his voice as they head inside.

        "Wit would be lost on you," she retorts.

        "There it is," Toby says, laughing. Allison decides not to dignify that with a response, walking past him into the room he's led her to and stopping a little way inside the doorway.

        "Wow," she says unconsciously.

        "Kinda big, huh?" he agrees, leaning in the doorway behind her. She sends him a dirty look, unimpressed with his lack of modesty, but he merely shrugs. "What?" he asks. "I'm being honest. If I tried to play it off as not that big you'd call me a spoiled jerk. It's a lose-lose situation."

        "Lose-lose?" she repeats wryly.

        "Lose-lose," Toby confirms, walking past her to sit on the couch. It's average sized and red and it doesn't really fit in with the rest of the room, which has clearly had a lot of money spent on it. Allison quirks a brow at Toby, silently asking him to explain. When he doesn't catch on, she sighs.

        "Your couch," she says.

        "My couch?"

        She shrugs, suddenly a little self-conscious. "I don't know, I guess I was expecting a three yard long sleek black leather kinda thing."

        "My mom and I picked it out," he beams, before patting the spot next to him. "Pretty neat, huh?"

        Neat isn't the exact word Allison would use to describe it, but she can't deny it's comfortable. She feels like she could quite easily sink into the fabric and never resurface.

        "This is where the magic will happen, Allison," Toby tells her, smile still wide, before spluttering like a fifty year-old car at her raised eyebrows. "I mean - not like that! Just, you know -" he tapers off at Allison's resulting snort, relaxing but narrowing his eyes. "You're mean," he informs her.

        "Tell me something I don't know," she brushes off, leaning back into the couch. "Anyway, you were saying?"

        "I was saying, right here is where your life will change."

        "My life?"

        "Yep." Toby nods, and Allison notes with disbelief that he looks completely serious. "These musicals will change who you are. You aren't going to know what hit you, Reed."

Allison feels a tug of something in her gut. She recognises it immediately as fear.