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The fading May sun casts long shadows across the Seaver living room carpet, thick with the scent of stale pizza and teenage ennui. Tomorrow, Mike Seaver walks across the Dewey High stage – a fact that should induce panic, given his spotty academic record. Instead, he’s sprawled on the worn corduroy sofa, legs dangling over the armrest, fiddling with a Rubik’s Cube he’s never solved.
Across from him, Carol sits unnaturally upright in the floral armchair, her nose buried in a dense physics textbook titled Quantum Mechanics for the Utterly Serious, a Future Nuclear Physicists Club pin gleaming on her cardigan. Ben, buzzing with pre-adolescent energy, ricochets off the furniture like a pinball, occasionally pausing to mimic Mike’s slouch.
"Graduation tomorrow, Captain Cool," Carol remarks dryly, not looking up from Schrödinger's equations. "Feeling the weight of impending adulthood?"
Mike scoffs, tossing the Cube aside. "Nah. More like the weight of Dad’s ‘meaningful career path’ lecture later. Pass the chips?" Ben scrambles for the bag, tossing it with alarming force.
Ben lands beside Mike, eyes wide. "Didja hear about Tommy Henderson? He’s totally crushing on Wonder Woman! Like, Lynda Carter Wonder Woman!"
Carol finally lowers her book, a faint blush creeping up her neck. "That’s hardly unusual, Benjamin. Idealized figures often represent unattainable aspirations."
Mike grins, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Okay, weirdo hour. Tommy's Wonder Woman obsession? Weak sauce. Remember my thing for Mrs. Butterworth?" He gestures vaguely towards the kitchen. "That syrup bottle had… curves."
Ben giggles uncontrollably. "You wanted to marry a bottle!"
Carol adjusts her glasses, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Well… if we’re confessing absurdities…" She hesitates, then blurts out, "I find the theoretical elegance of Maxwell’s Demon… strangely compelling." She stares intently at her textbook’s diagram of a tiny demon sorting molecules.
Silence hangs heavy, broken only by the ticking grandfather clock.
Mike stares at Carol, then bursts out laughing. "Maxwell’s Demon? Seriously, Brainiac? That’s your weird crush? A thought experiment?"
"It’s statistically improbable!" Carol defends hotly, her blush deepening. "And utterly efficient!"
Ben looks between them, bewildered. "Is Maxwell’s Demon like… a supervillain?"
Mike shakes his head, still chuckling. "Nope, squirt. Just Carol being Carol. Guess we’re all kinda freaks."
He ruffles Ben’s hair. Tomorrow looms, but tonight, bathed in the awkward glow of shared, impossible crushes, they're just weird siblings.