The assignment sheet landed on Julian's desk with a soft thwap.
"Senior Sociology Project: Family Dynamics Observation. Groups of 3. Due in 4 weeks."
Julian scanned the names listed beneath his own—Haley Dunphy and Alex Dunphy—and felt the universe laughing at him.
Across the classroom, Haley mouthed "Oh my God" while Alex immediately began scribbling notes in the margins of the rubric like she was preparing for war.
Their teacher, Mr. Thompson, clapped his hands. "And before anyone asks—no, you cannot switch groups. Life's about learning to work with people you wouldn't normally choose."
Haley slumped in her seat. "This is cruel."
Alex adjusted her glasses. "Statistically, this will end in disaster."
Julian just stared at the paper, already calculating the probability of survival.
The First Meeting (Or: How Three Geniuses Can't Agree on Pizza Toppings)
Haley spread out across Julian's couch like a starfish. "We should do our project on, like, how social media affects family relationships."
Alex scoffed from the kitchen table where she'd commandeered Julian's laptop. "That's what every lazy group does. We're studying intergenerational trauma transmission."
Julian, caught between them, rubbed his temples. "Or we could—"
"NO." Both sisters glared at him.
Two hours later:
Haley had constructed an elaborate color-coded Instagram poll ("See? 78% of people fight with siblings over selfie lighting")
Alex had filled three whiteboards with neurological diagrams ("The amygdala clearly—")
Julian had quietly ordered three different pizzas to appease everyone
Phil walked in during peak chaos. "Whoa. This is like that movie where the scientists try to stop the asteroid."
Claire peered over his shoulder. "They're arguing about citations, Phil."
Haley threw a pillow at Alex. Alex retaliated with a highlighter.
Julian caught Claire's eye and mouthed "Help me."
The Breakthrough (Involving a Burnt Casserole and Childhood Secrets)
It happened at 1:37 AM on a Tuesday.
Alex was mid-rant about flawed methodology when Haley suddenly froze. "Oh my God. That's why you hate my surveys."
Alex blinked. "What?"
"You think I'm just—" Haley made a vague gesture. "Haley. Like I don't take this seriously."
Julian held his breath.
Alex removed her glasses. "...Aren't you?"
Haley's voice dropped. "When we were eight, you told Dad my science fair project was 'cute.' Like it was a coloring book."
Alex went very still. "I didn't—"
"You did." Haley swallowed. "And after that, I stopped trying."
The silence stretched.
Then Alex did something unprecedented—she apologized. "I was jealous you made Dad laugh during your presentation."
Julian watched as years of unspoken competition unraveled between them.
Somewhere, a casserole burned.
The Pritchett-Tucker Focus Group (Featuring Lily's Shocking Revelations)
"Again, for the record," Mitchell said, "this is not ethical research."
Cam adjusted Lily's tiny blazer. "Nonsense! Our daughter is thriving as a peer reviewer."
Lily, age 2.5, nodded solemnly. "Dada cries at Frozen."
Mitchell turned red. "That was one time—"
Julian hid a smile behind his notebook as Haley and Alex tag-teamed the interview:
Haley got Gloria to confess she fake-laughed at Jay's jokes for years ("But now they're actually funny!")
Alex tricked Jay into analyzing his own father issues through baseball statistics
Claire and Phil, when pressed, revealed they never had a "five-year plan" ("We just kept forgetting to buy condoms!")
By midnight, they had enough data to rewrite every psychology textbook.
And something else—something warmer.
The Almost-Fight (Resolved via Competitive Baking)
The tension returned during the final draft.
"Your analysis is reductive," Alex snapped at Haley's section.
Haley's eyes flashed. "Your writing is robotic."
Julian, sensing nuclear meltdown, slammed a mixing bowl between them. "First to bake edible cookies gets final edit rights."
What followed:
Alex's "precision-engineered" shortbread (weighed to the gram)
Haley's "experimental" chili-chocolate abomination
Julian's perfect snickerdoodles (the ultimate peace offering)
Claire judged blindfolded. "Haley's tastes like regret. Alex's could mortar bricks." She pointed to Julian's. "This is love."
Haley and Alex exchanged a look.
Then, simultaneously: "Fine. You edit."
Julian's heart did something complicated.
The Presentation (And the Kiss That Broke the School)
They aced it, obviously.
Haley's charismatic delivery had students actually cheering for data
Alex's technical breakdown impressed even the AP teachers
Julian's seamless transitions made it look like they'd rehearsed for weeks
Then, as they returned to their seats:
Haley grabbed Julian's hand. Alex leaned against his shoulder.
The classroom erupted.
Dylan dropped his calculator. Mr. Thompson choked on his coffee.
And Julian?
He just smiled.
The Aftermath (Now Featuring 200% More Phil)
Back home, Phil attempted to celebrate with "magic" cupcakes.
"They disappear when you eat them! Get it?"
Luke licked frosting off the ceiling. "I don't get it."
Claire surveyed her chaotic, flour-dusted family—Julian now seamlessly among them—and did something rare.
She didn't reach for the wine.
Instead, she took a cupcake