Ethan checked his backpack for the third time—textbooks aligned left to right, pencil case zipped exactly halfway, lunchbox pressed flat against the side—when Luke's voice shot through the moment like a Nerf dart to the temple.
"Careful!"
Before Ethan could even look up, he heard a sharp crack, followed by the delicate tinkle of glass raining down on tile.
He turned to see shards scattered across the kitchen floor and Luke frozen mid-step, eyes wide, already bending down to gather the mess.
"Stop, Luke. You'll hurt yourself," Ethan warned, calm but firm.
"You're probably right," Luke admitted after a few seconds, his signature delayed logic kicking in.
"What happened, dear?" Claire rushed in, tone part-worried, part-prepared-for-anything. She didn't even glance at Ethan. With Luke, accidents were more a pattern than an event.
"The glass just fell from the counter when I tried to play with my Star Wars laser sword," Luke explained innocently.
"It's alright, sweetheart," Claire sighed, grabbing a kitchen towel to mop up the juice and corral the glass.
Ethan resumed checking his backpack—a ritual at this point—when a voice boomed through the house.
"Ethan, Haley, are you two ready?" Phil shouted from the front door, full Dad-energy in tow.
"Sooon!" Haley called from the bathroom, still mid-makeup for the first school day after summer.
Claire turned to Ethan, barely worried. "Got everything you need?"
"Yes, Mom."
Phil wandered into the kitchen, already hunting. "Claire, where did I put the car keys yesterday?"
"I don't know. You usually drop them by the chimney when you forget," she answered automatically, as if it was her full-time job.
Ethan spoke up, eyes still on his bag. "You took them with you into the bathroom yesterday. Remember? You rushed in when we got home."
"See? Ethan gets me!" Phil grinned. "You're like my very own key-finding Jedi. The Force is organized with this one."
Ethan chuckled. He loved when his dad made those corny jokes just for him.
"Haley, ready or not, here comes the school year—and I don't think it's waiting for your mascara!" Phil shouted again.
"The school year might not wait for me," Haley replied, stomping into the hall, "but the school boys definitely will."
Claire pointed upstairs. "Get the car keys. I'll take care of her."
"You've got one minute, Haley. After that, I'm coming in with a stopwatch and a bucket of cold water!" Claire added with her classic countdown tone.
"Fine! If you want me to be single forever like Alex!" Haley shot back.
"Better single than caught dating someone who thinks 'H2O' is a K-pop band," Alex muttered without even looking up from her book.
"Isn't it?" Haley asked, blinking as she walked past.
"We should get going," Ethan murmured, tugging Haley along before Alex could pile on.
From behind them, Luke called out, "Wait… there's a band called H2O? That explains why my science teacher kept yelling at me for humming in class!"
They headed outside to find Phil already waiting by the minivan.
Ethan tugged the door shut and tapped the handle three times before sliding into the back seat, buckling in while Phil reversed out of the driveway.
On the way to school, Ethan stared out the window, quietly anxious. He didn't like change. He preferred things to be predictable, stable—countable.
Phil glanced at him. "Hey bud, you okay? You're quiet. And I saw you organize your backpack like, six times. Not judging—once, I arranged my socks by emotional support level."
"I'm fine," Ethan replied, soft but honest.
"First-day jitters? Totally normal. Even Batman probably gets nervous when they rearrange the Batcave," Phil said with a smile.
Ethan gave a small, crooked smile.
"You know what I do when I'm nervous?" Phil added. "I pretend I'm in a movie montage. Like Rocky or Karate Kid. This is your music-swell moment, Ethan. The part where the main character shows up."
Ethan didn't respond, but his eyes stopped scanning the outside world.
Phil finished gently, "And if anything gets weird or unpredictable? Just remember: you're a Dunphy. We thrive in chaos. We're the human version of jazz."
Ethan laughed—short, but real. It helped.
He still played through a melody in his mind, one he'd composed himself. It helped him feel grounded.
When they arrived at Palisades High, a banner read:
**"Welcome 2008/2009 Freshmen of Palisades High – Meet at the Mensa."**
"If you need help, let me know," Haley said as they walked. "Unless you do something super embarrassing. But judging by your face—which clearly takes after me—I think you'll be fine."
Ethan turned to ask, "Where's the Mensa?" but Haley was already gone, screaming in joy as she reunited with her group.
He sighed, turned, and followed the school's waypoints until he found the cafeteria.
Inside, it was packed. Ethan scanned the crowd but didn't spot any familiar faces. Then, a middle-aged man with glasses walked up to the mic.
"Welcome, students! Today marks a new beginning. Embrace it. High school is what you make it."
Ethan tuned him out after that. All he could think was: change isn't exciting—it's chaotic. And chaos makes everything harder to count.
After the speech, they handed out schedules.
Ethan noted down his first impressions:
- Homeroom / Social Studies – Mr. Finch. Talks too loud. Wild eyebrows.
- English Lit – Mrs. Reynolds. Warm, but classroom is disorganized.
- Algebra I – Miss Kwan. Efficient. Strict.
Then came Biology.
He walked into the lab and saw her—the same girl from Algebra and English. She always sat by the window. Dark hair in a loose tie, like she wasn't sure if she cared how she looked. In Algebra, she corrected the teacher without sounding annoying. In English, she laughed under her breath and scribbled something in the margins of her notebook that definitely wasn't notes.
Now, she sat in Bio with arms crossed, one sneaker tapping. She didn't look at him—or anyone—but she seemed steady. Grounded. Like she'd figured out how to stay quiet in the noise.
"Hi, I'm Ethan Dunphy," he said.
"Hello. I'm Maya Henderson," she replied, offering a soft smile.
"Wait— is Phil Dunphy your dad?" she added.
Ethan blinked. "How'd you know? You know me or my dad from real estate?"
"He sold us our house a few years ago," she grinned.
Just then, the teacher walked in. Middle-aged, balding, and carrying… frogs.
"Good morning, freshmen! I'm Mr. Gregson. Today, we're dissecting frogs—my favorite!"
Groans echoed around the room.
"Science is messy! If you're not getting slime on your shoes, are you even learning?" Mr. Gregson grinned.
"Partner with your deskmate," he announced.
"I guess we're teammates," Ethan said, a little deflated.
"Do you not like me?" Maya teased, putting on a fake pout.
"No, I just hate group projects," Ethan muttered with a weak smile.
Their frog landed on the tray in front of them.
"Guess the frogs have it tougher than us freshmen," Ethan quipped.
Maya snickered.
They worked side-by-side through the whole dissection, following Mr. Gregson's instructions.
As class ended, Maya turned to him. "Wanna grab lunch?"
They did. The cafeteria food wasn't great—but it wasn't terrible either. They talked about classes and neighborhoods. Ethan found out she'd gone to a private junior high and lived nearby.
Then came music class—Ethan's favorite. He loved the piano. His teacher, Mrs. Cullihan, was quiet, gray-haired, and intuitive. She recognized emotion over flashiness. He liked that.
Last came PE—Ethan's least favorite.
Coach Danner, a former college athlete, shouted, "Pain is just weakness leaving the body. Now run like you're being chased by your GPA!"
By the end of the day, Ethan was exhausted—and relieved.
When he climbed into the car, Phil grinned wide.
"Well, look who survived the teenage jungle! So... did high school treat you like a guest, a prisoner, or a future prom king?"
"It was okay," Ethan said with a small smile. "I think I met a friend. She said you sold her family their house."
"Ohhh. A she, huh? And how is she?"
"She's… okay," Ethan answered, blushing just a little.