Lights Up At The Moroccan by SS (preq to TNOY)

[JRK Archiver]

Ch 30

“Guess who?”
“Brad Pitt.”
“Close. Very close.”
As her eyes were uncovered, Georgie turned around, putting on a disgusted face. “Close?” she cried. “Ugh, not even. What a rip!”
Dillon clutched his chest. “I’m wounded.”
“I’m sure,” Georgie replied sarcastically. She leaned back on her heels. Dillon surveyed their surroundings.
“So...this is an annual summer small town America carnival, huh?”
“Awww...” Georgie mocked. “Is it too provincial for the world traveller?”
The glint in Dillon’s eye grew brighter. “It’s all too provincial,” he replied, reaching out to tickle her sides.
She squealed and squirmed.
“This town’s too small for us,” he went on dramatically. Dillon picked Georgie up, twirling her around. “Let’s run away!”
“Where to?” she asked, playing along, clinging to his neck for dear life.
“Japan.”
He lost his footing, tumbling them both to the grass. Georgie rolled off Dillon and on to her back.
“Japan?”
“Yep.” There was something in his tone. Georgie groaned, propping herself up on one elbow.
“Don’t tell me you’re in that phase.”
Dillon propped himself up as well. “What phase?”
She looked at him, shaking her head. “Apparently all teenage guys go through some sort of Asian women phase, you know, on, uh...the internet?” She gave him an “if you know what I mean look.”
He knew. “That’s....ummmm...okay....” he drawled. “And wonderfully politically incorrect.”
Georgie rolled her eyes. “Dillon, aren’t we past the point of having to be politically correct with each other?”
He nodded. “Very true. But where did you hear that?”
She shrugged, lying back on the grass. “Heard some girls in the bathroom talking about it.”
He snorted. “About what guys like to-” he hesitated, trying to maintain a modicum of decency, “-look at?”
“Yep.”
Dillon shook his head, flabbergasted. “Man, I want to hang out in the girls’ bathroom,” he commented. “You learn so much.”
Georgie smirked. “Well, you’re rich,” she remarked. “It shouldn’t be too hard to afford the surgery. Really you just need to get rid of one, no two things...no, actually it’s really more like-”
“Hey, look!” Dillon said suddenly, jumping up. “Stupid carnival games. You want a really crappy stuffed animal?”
Georgie scrambled to her feet as well. “Sure thing,” she grinned. “Will you hold my jacket while I win one?”
“Ahhhh!” he caught her in a headlock, mussing up her hair as they walked into the crowd of people.

Georgie stood back as Dillon played one of the carnival games.
"Come on, Quartermaine! I want a stuffed animal!" She teased, and he just laughed before picking up one of the baseballs and throwing it at the three cans that were sitting on a platform, missing them completely.
"Ahh, you suck!" She teased again, hitting him in the back of the shoulder.
The guy that was in charge of the game just shook his head and chuckled, as Dillon picked up another ball.
"Georgie!" Someone called out, causing her to turn around.
"Holly," she smiled. "What's up?"
"Shit!" Dillon cursed as the third and final ball missed the cans once again.
"Not much," she replied, laughing slightly.
"Here," the guy handed him three more baseballs. "Take another shot, this one's on me."
"You sure?" Dillon asked.
He nodded his head. "Win your girl a prize."
Dillon laughed, turning around to face the girls. "Hi Holly."
"Hey," she smiled.
He turned back around; his attention focused on the game once more as the girls continued chatting.
Out of the corner of her eye, Georgie watched as he threw the first ball and knocked down all three of the cans.
"WOOHOO! GO Quartermaine!" She yelled, earning a laugh from Holly.
The guy handed Dillon a stuffed bear with a red ribbon tied around its neck. Turning around, he held it out to Georgie, but quickly pulled it back to his chest, while looking at Holly.
"Here you go," he chuckled to himself as he finally handed the stuffed animal to Georgie, who just looked at him.
"Holly," she said, looking at her friend. "Excuse us for a minute."
"Sure." She replied, stepping aside as Georgie grabbed a hold of Dillon's arm and pulled him off to the side.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" She hissed.
"What are you talking about?"
"Why didn't you give this to Holly?" She asked, holding the bear up.
"Uhh, maybe because I didn't want it to be totally obvious?" He informed her. "Plus, you said you wanted a stuffed animal," he joked.
Georgie rolled her eyes, while smacking his shoulder. "Would you just stop being such a wuss and go for it already!"
"Go for what?" He asked, a confused look pastered across his face.
"Ugh!" She sighed, obviously annoyed. "You have got to be kidding me?"
Dillon shrugged his shoulders, still not getting it.
"You like her and she obviously likes you, do something about it!"
“Like what?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not suggesting a marriage proposal. I don’t know, buy her a lemonade or something!”
Dillon glanced back at Holly. “I don’t know...”
“Oh my god.” Georgie grabbed his arm. “Come on.” They walked back to where Holly stood.
“Hey,” she asked as they strolled along. “Are you guys hungry?”
Holly shook her head. “Not really.”
“I’m cool,” Dillon replied.
Georgie tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “OK, well I need cotton candy!”
Dillon snorted. “You would.” Georgie turned to go. “Want us to come with?”
She shook her head. “No no no, you guys go ahead. I’ll meet you at the bouncy castle thing.”
Georgie rushed off, leaving Dillon and Holly alone.
“So, um,” he began, “what are you doing this summer?”
She shifted her weight. “Uh, camp. I leave Thursday.”
“Cool.”
“And you?” she queried.
He shrugged. “Um, I don’t know. Hang out, I guess.”
“Cool.”
That word was getting infuriating. But it was all that came to mind.
“Cool.”

Georgie hadn’t come back yet, and Dillon was running out of things to say. They’d gone from awkward small talk to uncomfortable silence.
He was kicking himself. He spent more than half his waking hours with a girl and thought nothing of it. Nothing was ever difficult when he was with Georgie. Why couldn’t this be half as easy?
“You kids ready?”
Dillon looked up to see the attendant looking at them.
“Yeah, sounds good,” he replied. He stepped aside, gesturing for Holly to enter the castle first.

Georgie nursed her cotton candy.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing at the carnival alone?”
Georgie’s face lit up.
“Where’s your partner in crime?” Lucky asked, slinging an arm over the back of the bench.
She stuck out her tongue. “He’s with a girl...” Her eyes danced mischieviously.
Lucky raised an eyebrow.
“Well come on,” he said, helping Georgie up. “Elizabeth was supposed to meet me, but she just called to say she had to close the diner, so I need a date.” He bowed. “If Princess Georgie will deign to allow the humble peasant to escort her on the bumper cars.”
She grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “I deign!”

Dillon stumbled over the floor of the inflated castle, falling to his knees. A few feet away, Holly sprawled on her stomach.
“I can’t stay up,” she laughed, crawling to her feet.
“Haha, neither can I,” he agreed. He took a few unstable bounces, falling once again, this time, knocking Holly down with him.
When they landed, him half on top of her, he was about to apologize and roll off, when Georgie’s words rang in his ear.
***
“Stop being such a wuss and go for it already!"
***
Kissing didn’t feel the way that Dillon had imagined that it would, the way that, from the movies, he’d expected that it would. He’d imagined fireworks. Bells and whistles. That surge of electricity in his body that he got sometimes. But this was just kind of...he wasn’t sure, exactly. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it didn’t seem like quite like in the movies.
Holly squirmed slightly. Quickly, Dillon took his lips off of hers.
“Um, are you thirsty?” he asked, sitting up.
“Sure,” she replied, threading her fingers nervously together.
He licked his lips. “You want to get a root beer or something?”
She looked at him. “But what about Georgie?”

Georgie hopped into a red bumper car as Lucky took a yellow one a few cars behind her.
She buckled her seat belt and turned around to face him. "You ready to get your butt kicked?" She asked.
"Bring it on, missy!" He replied, sticking his tongue out at her.
She laughed, turning back around just as the cars began to move.
Almost immediately, Lucky maneuvered his bumper car through a crowd of people and bumped right into the back of Georgie's.
"Hey!" She yelled, once she saw who it was. "That's not fair!"
"And why not?" He asked, laughing as some little kid hit the side of her car, causing her to get pushed into a corner.
"Ugh!" She yelled, trying her hardest to get unstuck. "How in the hell do I get out of here?"
"Someone has to bump you," he tried not to laugh as he hit the side of her car and she started to pull away.
"What, no thank you?" He joked, watching as she tried to get away from him when all of a sudden the cars stopped right where they were.
She looked at him with a confused look on her face.
"Times up, sweetie." He told her, getting out of the car and making his way toward her as she stepped out of the car.
"I was stuck in that damn corner long enough!" She pouted, as they made their way out of the ride.
"Aww, poor baby!" Lucky teased, earning a smack on the arm from Georgie, just before she jumped onto his back.
"I want more cotton candy!" She told him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"No more sugar for you, you've had enough!"

“Where did you go off to?” Dillon demanded, as they walked through the park, the carnival fading behind them.
Georgie shrugged. “I ran into Lucky,” she informed him. “He took me on the bumper cars.” It was one of those times when the truth was better than any lie she would have conjured up.
“Cool,” he commented absently.
Georgie regarded her friend. “What’s up with you?” she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
He shook his head. “Nothing, really.”
“You’re so full of crap,” she scoffed, knocking him with her shoulder.
Dillon tossed her a half-grin. “Yeah, well,” he said, sheepishly, “a gentleman never kisses and tells.” He avoided her gaze.
He hit the ground almost as soon as he realized he was falling under the weight of her. Georgie straddled him, pinning him to the grass.
“Oh my god, you slut!” she squealed. She bounced on his hips, making him grimace slightly. “Tell me everything! How was it? Oh my god!” Two cotton candies and a snow cone had caught up with her.
Dillon laughed. “You are such a girl, sometimes, I swear.”
She growled, moving her knee into a threatening position. “And what, pray tell, would you have me be?”
Fearing for his future ability to sire children, Dillon held up his hands in surrender. “Nothing,” he said quickly, “nothing at all, you’re perfect.”
Georgie smiled smugly, rolling off of him. They lay beside one another in the grass.
“So what was it like?” she asked in quieter tones.
He was silent a moment, trying to find the words.
“That’s the thing,” he murmured. “It wasn’t like I thought it would be.” He sounded disappointed, or disallusioned, or both.
Georgie propped up on one elbow, gazing at him. “But I thought you really liked her.”
He shrugged, not quite understanding it himself. “So did I...”
“Are you sure you’re not gay?” She queried, tossing off the words as casually as she would inquire about his preference of ice cream, or school subject.
In a split second, she found herself pinned beneath his weight, the grass pressing against her back where her tshirt had crept up.
“No, I’m not gay!” he scoffed, rolling his eyes down at her.
She rolled her eyes right back at him, bringing her hands up to prop behind her head. “So what then?”
Dillon shook his head. “I don’t know,” he mused. “Maybe...maybe Holly just isn’t the girl I’m supposed to be kissing.”
Georgie closed one eye, then the other, alternating. Above her, Dillon seemed to flicker slightly. “So then who are you supposed to be kissing?” she asked dubiously, almost mockingly.
He looked at her a moment, lying beneath him, and something nudged slightly at him, something almost akin to - but that was ridiculous. This was Georgie. Nervousness wasn’t a part of their code. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?
He rolled off of her, landing on his back in the grass.
“I have no idea.”


Preview:
“Why are you naked?”

[JRK Archiver]

Ch 31

Georgie hated basketball. She didn’t get the point of it. Run up and down a court, throw the ball through the hoop. Dribbling was as stupid an action as it was a word. And no matter how many times Coach Mahon said no fouling, somehow, that idiot Nancy Stillman always managed to ram into her more times than she could count.
Georgie leaned into the streaming water, letting it beat down over her shoulders. She touched a tender spot on her upper arm. There was going to be a bruise there the next day.

“Come on Quartermaine, we don’t want you narcing on us.”
Dillon rolled his eyes. Cutting through the gym on his way back from the library had obviously been a mistake.
“Seriously, this is like a scene out of a bad John Hughes movie.”
“Shut up, dude!” Patrick and John Hardy were pretty notorious at PC High. The Hardy Boys, the Bobbsey Twins, Frick and Frack, or, Dillon thought, watching Pat surrepticiously push open the locker room door, Dumb and Dumbass. Whatever you called them, one always had some dumb idea, and the other always thought the dumb idea was a great idea.
“Move it, dude!” John pushed his shoulder into Dillon’s, sending all three of them stumbling into the room. They looked around.
“Great,” Dillon remarked in a whisper. “It’s the girls’ locker room. It looks just like the guys’ locker room. And guess what, there are no girls here because the bell already rung, so there you go.”
He turned to leave.
“Dude, no way,” John stopped him. “We gotta see what the real inside of the girls’ locker room looks like!”
“What do you think they have?” Dillon asked. He held up his hands. “No, wait, don’t answer that.” He didn’t want to know what John Hardy thought was really inside the girls’ locker room.

Georgie slid her jeans up her legs. She was already into the lunch period, but she didn’t care. Those extra five minutes in the shower had been worth it. Besides, she never was a huge fan of dressing in front of 40 other students, even if it was all girls.
She buttoned her pants and reached into her locker for her bra. It was her favorite one, the white lace with the blue satin bow in the middle.
Puberty happened in ridiculous ways. Almost fourteen years, flat as a pancake, and then all of a sudden....it was crazy. Emily had taken her out on a shopping date and had helped her pick out some pretty new underwear, promising not to reveal the mission to a certain younger cousin of hers. Boys weren’t supposed to know about things like bras, not even Dillon.
As she hooked the garment around her back, Georgie froze. For a second, it sounded like there were male voices in the room.
“Vents must be open,” she muttered, sliding her straps up her arms.
Suddenly, she heard a scuffling by the next row of lockers, a yelp, and a lanky figure was sprawled out in front of her. A lanky figure with brown cargo pants, a green tshirt layered over a white thermal, and electrocution-spiky hair. And, as his eyes left the ground, a gaping mouth. Georgie’s hands flew to cover her barely concealed chest.
“Get out!” She screamed.
“I-” Dillon stammered.
Georgie screamed again. “Out! Now!”
Dillon ran.

Georgie sprawled on her bed, trying to read her history text. Boys were stupid, annoying, useless creatures who did stupid, annoying, useless things. And they were pigs. And perverts. Even the ones who were supposed to be your friends and weren’t supposed to be pervert pigs.
Although.....he had tried to pass her notes in chemistry lecture that afternoon. She’d just ignored them though, and had given him dirty looks instead. Well, he deserved it! Georgie flounced defiantly on her bed. She definitely was not ready to forgive him yet.
I’ll be your crying shoulder
I’ll be love suicide
I’ll be better when I’m older
I’ll be the greatest fan of your life
“What the heck?” Georgie muttered. She climbed off her bed, going to the window.
Dillon stood in the driveway, a boombox over his head, blaring Edwin McCain. Georgie just stared at him, a smile beginning to play at her lips. Her latest musical adoration. He knew it too. The jerk.
“Who do you think I am, Ione Skye?” she yelled out the window.
“No way,” he charmed up at her, the music still playing, “you’re ten times prettier.”
Georgie rolled her eyes. “Nice try Quartermaine,” she scoffed. “You couldn’t be any more full of it if you were stuffed.” But he’d gotten to her, a little. Well, maybe more. She climbed out the window, scaling down the trellis.
“You are so not forgiven,” she informed him as she hit the ground.
“Yeah,” he conceded, setting down the boombox. “I know.”
She faced him, her hands on her hips. “So,” she began. “Defend yourself.”
“I came across the Hardy twins at an inopportune time,” he replied in explanation.
It was sufficient. Georgie raised an eyebrow.
“The prosecution rests.” She flopped to the ground. “But I’m still pissed at you.”
He sat down next to her. “I know.”
They sat in silence. Georgie chewed her lip. Dillon twirled a blade of grass between his fingers.
Presently, she felt his eyes on her. “What?” she growled.
“You didn’t have those last summer,” he replied, gesturing vaguely at her chest.
His comment was met by a barrage of close-fisted whacks.
“I cannot believe you looked!” she yelled. “You perv!”
Dillon tried to defend himself against her blows. “Dude, it was a reflex action!” he yelled.
“Barfing is a reflex action,” she countered. “Looking at me with my top off is being a pervert.”
“Well, at least you’re hot with your top off,” Dillon remarked, trying to make light of the situation. Bad move. Georgie pummeled him harder. “Ow!” he yelled. “I’ll make it up to you! Do you want me to, like, show you my butt or something?”
It seemed like a perfectly fair offer. Tit for tat, as it were.
“Ew!” she yelled, smacking his arm. “You keep your butt to yourself!”
Dillon managed to grab her flailing arm, pinning it to her side and flipping her on to her back. She could hold her own, but he was still stronger. He pinned her down.
“Violence is not the answer,” he informed her preachily.
“Bite me,” she replied sweetly.
Leaning down, Dillon chomped gently on the tip of Georgie’s nose. His eyes gleaming mischieviously, he raised his head up again, meeting her gaze.
For a second, his mouth felt dry.
For a second, she saw the smirk leave his face.
Then the glimmer returned.
"You take the good, you take the bad, you take 'em both and there you have the facts of life, the facts of life,” he sang.
“Idiot!” she yelled, thrashing beneath him. Dillon jumped up.
“There's a time you gotta go and show you're growing now you know about the facts of life, the facts of life!” He ran as he sang, Georgie tearing after him.
“I’m so gonna kill you!”
“When the world never seems-” he dodged as she lunged for him, “to be living up to your dreams-”
“You suck!” He ran around the house, Georgie in hot pursuit.
“And suddenly you're finding out the facts of life are all about you,” he ducked behind a tree. “Ooooh... “
“You’re a dead man, Quartermaine!” He ran toward the hedge.
“It takes a lot to get it right, when you're-” she dove - “learning the facts of life."
And knocked him to the ground.

[JRK Archiver]

Ch 32

Georgie groaned and blew her nose, pitching the tissue toward the wastebasket.
And missing it by a country mile.
She didn’t care. Her sinuses felt like they were stuffed with woodchips, her nose was running like Vesuvias, and her throat was sore. She had spent the better part of morning sulking on the couch with cups of ginger tea. Alone.
Georgie hated being left alone when she was sick. She wanted to be fussed about and taken care of. But Maxie had to go to school, and Mac was out on an emergency case.
“This sucks,” Georgie complained to no one. She glared at the remote control next to her. The latest attempt of channel surfing had revealed a drought of decent shows to watch, and she’d seen all the movies they had at home. At least someone could have gone to the video store for her.
The doorbell rang.
“Go away,” she croaked. “I’m not buying anything.”
The bell rang again. She dragged herself off the couch, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and moving toward the door.
Opening it, she revealed a red-nosed Dillon, his eyes slack with cold. Even his hair looked lax.
“What’s with you?” she demanded.
“Sick,” he complained, “like you. But I’m too bored to stay in bed.”
She glared at him. He’d made her get up because he was bored? “So why are you here?”
Dillon held up a bag. “Movies,” he replied. “I figured you might want to see some new ones.”
She threw her arms around him, pressing her face to his shoulder. “I love you!” she cried, “you rock so much.”
“Gross, Georgie,” Dillon whined, walking her backwards into the house and out of the cold as he returned the hug. “Don’t snot all over my shirt.”
“It’s an ugly shirt anyway,” she retorted.

“I can’t believe she got on the plane,” Georgie whined.
“Georgie,” Dillon whined back, “you’ve seen this movie like five times. You know what happens!”
She kicked him weakly. “Yeah, but they shouldn’t have broken up.”
He kicked her back. “They weren’t really together,” he countered. “It was like a fling type thing.”
Georgie blew her nose and threw the tissue on the floor, not even trying for the wastebasket. “You have no sense of romance,” she accused. “You’re such a boy.”
“Speaking of romance,” Dillon replied, slurping at the cup of tea Georgie had given him, “did you hear?”
"Elizabeth and Lucky..." Georgie looked at him while shaking her head 'yes'. "I can't believe it..."
"Neither did I when Emily told me." He admitted, pausing to take a quick sip of his tea, which was slowly soothing his sore throat. "But she explained to me how they still love each other, but they're really just better friends than they were a couple."
"Oh, yeah, I guess I can understand that." Georgie smiled. "I remember when Elizabeth would babysit Maxie and I when we were younger, and Lucky would come and visit her. They're really great friends, I can see how they wouldn't want to ruin that..."
Dillon let Georgie's last sentence linger in the air for a few seconds, thinking about what she said. They're really great friends, I can see how they wouldn't want to ruin that... Thinking maybe a little too hard...
"Hey!" Georgie threw a pillow at him, bringing him back to reality.
Dillon shot her a look. "What?"
"Nothing..." She shook her head, and laughed slightly.
"Do you think things are going to be weird now? I mean, they all hung out so much..."
Georgie cut right in. "I hope not, but knowing Lucky, he won't let things be complicated. Plus, they're still friends."
Things were quiet between them for a couple of minutes.
"So, yeah, did you bring any other movies with you?" Georgie asked, taking a sip of her tea.
"Of course I did!" Dillon laughed, jumping up off the couch.

“Saving Private Ryan and Resevoir Dogs?” Georgie scoffed. “Blood and gore movies. Are you trying to make me sicker?”
Dillon reeled, coughing both from the shock and from the tickling in his throat. “What?! These are classics. And,” he added snidely, to retaliate for her sniping at his beloved films, “sicker is not a word.”
She blew her nose defiantly. “Wow, you know that? How impressive.”
He pressed his fingers to his temples. She was making his headache so much worse. Why did Georgie have to be such a....such a.... such a girl?
“Shut up, Georgie!”
“Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up!”
“No you shut up!”
“You shut up and you get out!” She yelled.
“Fine!” Dillon collected his belongings and stalked out the front door.
Georgie flopped back on the couch. “Stupid boy,” she announced to the empty house.

Dillon stomped along the sidewalk. The nerve of her! Imagine calling a couple of great films like Resevoir Dogs and Saving Private Ryan blood and gore movies. And after he’d gone over to see her when she was sick, even though he was sick too. Barely realizing what he was doing, Dillon whirled around, heading back to Georgie’s.

Stupid Dillon. Stupid boys.
Georgie decided then and there that she was going to spend more time with girls. Girls were cool. Girls knew things about makeup and clothes. And girls never tried to get you to watch movies with blood shooting across the screen when you already felt sick and gross.
And girls were petty and catty, and they talked behind your back.
But boys were just stupid. She had proof. Dillon was a boy. He was stupid. Therefore, boys were stupid.
Just then the stupid boy who had reminded her how stupid boys were came barreling through her front door. Without even knocking!
“What are you doing back here?” she yelled. Well, half-yelled, half-croaked.
“You’re a pain, Georgie,” he replied in explanation. “I tried to be nice and come over and bring movies and you just yell at me!” Dillon was aware that he sounded like a wuss, but his sinuses felt like they were stuffed with cotton, so he didn’t really care.
He was right though, and she knew it.
“I bought North by Northwest,” she said meekly. “I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but you want it now?”
It was the sort of apology that meant more to Dillon than an “I’m sorry,” or a wordy speech.
He smiled. “You got Hitchcock?” He asked. “I’m impressed.!”
And that, she knew, meant “Georgie, I forgive you.”


Preview:
“I didn’t know the flu was an STD.”

[JRK Archiver]

Chapter Thirty-Three

Where the hell was she?
Dillon stood impatiently by Georgie’s locker, waiting. It wasn’t like her to be so late.
“Damn it,” he muttered as the bell rang. Rushing down the hall, Dillon slid into his seat in American History.
“Welcome back, Dillon,” Mr. DiMezza greeted him. “Recovered well?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good.” The teacher surveyed the room as students filled their seats. “And it looks as though Miss Jones is still not with us. Must be a nasty bug.”
“Hey Quartermaine,” piped up Ted Rossi, “what’d you give her?”
“Yeah,” snickered Darryl Hall, “I didn’t know the flu was an STD.”
“Oh sorry,” Dillon shot back. “The only STDs I’ve been around have been from your mom.” He immediately wanted to bang his head on the desk. He couldn’t believe that he had just made a “your mom” joke, and a bad one at that. Is this what high school really dragged a person down to?
“Ahem.” Mr. DiMezza cleared his throat loudly. “You gentlemen can behave yourselves or else you’re welcome to pay a visit to Vice-Principal Roth.”
Hall and Rossi shut up fast. Dillon pulled his history text out of his backpack, rolling his eyes. He scowled at the empty seat next to him. Darn Georgie, where was she?
“Okay,” Mr. DiMezza began, “I know how thrilled you all are about the test on Friday, so let’s review…”
Dillon’s eyes shot open. Test?!

“Maxie!” He ran down the hallway, grabbing her by the shoulder.
“What?” She was slightly, understandably, annoyed.
“Where’s Georgie?” He had a slightly hysterical look about him.
Maxie fixed him with the kind of smile usually reserved for the insane. “She’s sick, Dillon. She’s at home.”
He bolted.

“Do you try to be annoying or is it just natural?” Georgie whined at him as she opened the door. She was very cranky when she was sick, Dillon noted.
“Only for you,” he retorted, following her inside as she shuffled back to the couch, collapsing against the cushions.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” she asked, peering at him.
He shrugged, gingerly tossing aside a tissue. “Yeah, but I bailed.”
She rolled her eyes. “Freak.”
“Likewise,” he replied, patting her on the head like she was a cocker spaniel puppy. She scowled at him.
“I’m sick,” she groused. “Be nice to me.”
He stuck his lower lip out at her. “How come you’re still beat down,” he asked. “I’ve been fine since last night.”
Georgie propped a pillow behind her head. “Doctor says it might be mono.”
Mono. Kissing disease. Highly contagious. Test on Friday.
Dillon grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Georgie, kiss me.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“Kiss me.”
“Kiss yourself, Dillon,” she complained, pushing him away.
He grabbed her back. “Georgie, come on. DiMezza’s giving a test on Friday, I’ve got to get out of it. Just kiss me.”
“We tried that once,” she reminded him. “Remember? We decided it cannot be done?”
He wanted to bang his head against the wall for the second time that day. “Oh my god,” he yelled. “I’m not asking you to marry me, or even to enjoy it, just exchange fluids in the name of getting me out of the history test.”
“I am not frenching you, Dillon!” she yelled hoarsely.
“Why not?” He was growing impatient.
“Because it would be too weird!”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh. My. God. You are such a girl! Will you just kiss me, so I can get mono too? Come on!”
Yelling out in frustration, Georgie grabbed his head, pressing a loud, rough kiss to his cheek. “And that’s all you’re getting, so shut up already!” she informed him.
“Oh yeah,” he grumbled, “like that’s going to transmit any diseases.”
“Have you ever considered just studying?” she asked.
“I figured avoidance was more efficient,” he replied.
Georgie rolled her slightly-reddened eyes at him. “Get out your book,” she told him. “I’ll help you study.”
“You rock.”
She moaned softly. “And I wanted to wallow in my sickness.”
Dillon pulled his textbook out. “Well,” he pointed out, “if you were less of a prude…”
“If you were less of a moron….”
“Okay, better comebacks, Georgie,” he retorted, earning another scowl.

Dillon screwed the top back on the bottle of ginger-ale, replacing it in the fridge. Picking up the two glasses, he walked back into the living room.
The history textbook was still open on the coffee table. The yellow highlighter had fallen to the floor. And Georgie was asleep on the sofa, one arm hanging off the edge.
He walked back into the kitchen, pouring one glass down the drain and placing the empty glass in the dishwasher.
Going back into the living room, he placed the second glass of soda on the coffee table and replaced his book in his backpack. He knelt down to pick her arm up off the edge of the couch.
“Charming, Miss Jones,” he whispered, seeing that she was drooling slightly in her sleep. He made a mental note to tease her about that at a later date, when she was feeling better. Until then, maybe Emily could help him study for the history test.
“Sleep tight, Georgie girl,” he said softly, placing a throw blanket over her. Dillon slung his backpack over his shoulder, and walked through the living room, exiting the house.

Hours later, he fell back against the pillows on his bed. Emily was a good tutor, but history was still boring. Now he had only one important decision to make. Sullivan’s Travels on AMC or Splendor in the Grass on DVD?
“Natalie,” he decided, reaching for the DVD remote.
As he was about to press play, the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey.” Georgie’s voice was a little weaker than normal, but she didn’t sound as disgruntled as she had earlier. “Sorry I passed out on you today.”
“No,” he assured her, shaking his head. “You’re sick. You feeling any better?”
“I’m tired,” she replied.
“Go to sleep,” he suggested.
In her bedroom, curled up in her pink flannel pajamas, Georgie nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Thanks for the blanket, Dillon. You’re a good friend.”
So was she. “Get some sleep,” he ordered her. “I’ll call you soon.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”

[JRK Archiver]

Chapter Thirty-Four

“Georgie Porgie Snorgie Lorgie Borgie!”
Georgie held the phone away from her ear to dull the sound of Dillon’s shrieking.
“Have you finally cracked up?” She queried, holding the receiver gingerly. “Are the men in the white coats coming to take you away?” She could hear him bouncing.
“I had six snomade hinnamon buns for breakfast!”
She snorted. “Or six homemade cinnamon buns?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he agreed, antsy. “Georgie Jones…Georgie Jones….Georgie Jones….Georgie Jones, come out and play with me! We’ll go to the movies!” He sounded triumphant, as if the movies were a brand new revelation. Georgie stuffed material from her t-shirt into her mouth, stifling her laughter.
“As fun as it would be to watch you try to sit still in a dark theatre right now, I promised Mac I would rake the leaves today.”
Silence. Dejected silence. And then the epiphany.
“I’ll help!”
He sounded like such a cartoon hero that Georgie nearly fell over. Tears were streaming down her face. And they said she was bad on sugar!
“Dillon,” she gasped, “you’ve never raked before. And you’re…well, you’re off the deep end right now.”
“I’ll help!” He insisted.
It was like trying to explain the concept of no more cookies to a three year old.
“Okay,” she agreed. “You can help.”
“Yay!”
“But first, for the love of God, please run laps around your house and drink a gallon of water.”
“Aye aye Captain!” He saluted. She couldn’t see him through the phone, but she knew that he saluted.
“Good lord.” Georgie hung up the phone, falling back on the couch. “Boom boom ain’t it great to be crazy, boom boom ain’t it great to be kids like us?” she sang quietly, laughing to herself.
Dillon…Dillon…Dillon…

When she answered the doorbell, she found him on the front stoop, bouncing slightly.
“I have to pee,” he greeted her.
She stepped aside, letting him into the house. “Thank you for sharing.”
“So Cook made these cinnamon buns,” he informed her as he rushed toward the bathroom, “with this really gooey homemade icing, but they were like the ones in the airport, you know…” his voice grew louder as the bathroom door closed, “…and I was so hungry, so I ate like six of them and had coffee, and Ned said I was going to be sick but I just felt kind of ha…”
“Dillon, stop talking right now,” Georgie commanded loudly, from her spot in the living room. He obeyed. She pressed a throw pillow to her face.
The toilet was flushed. The water ran in the sink. The door opened.
“Happy,” Dillon continued, emerging from the washroom, and coming to join her on the couch. “And then I called you, and you told me to run laps, and Alice yelled at me…”
“I meant outside!”
“And then I drank water, like you said, and then by the time I got here, I really really had to pee,” he finished logically.
Georgie patted his arm. “Overshare, darling.”
“I’m still hungry,” he admitted.
Georgie nodded. “I’ll make turkey sandwiches.”

An hour later, fully satiated and significantly calmed, Dillon stood in the Jones backyard, holding a rake.
“How come you get to use that,” he demanded of Georgie, who had a small leaf blower strapped to her back.
She smiled sweetly. “Because it takes more muscles than I really have to actually do the raking, so it’s good that you’re strong.”
“Oh, well, sure,” Dillon flushed slightly.
He actually bought it. Georgie pretended to scratch her cheek in order to hide her smile behind her hand. She made a check on her imaginary scoreboard. Georgie one, Dillon zero.
“Why don’t, um, why don’t you start around the edge, and I’ll start in the middle,” she suggested. Dillon saluted her and took the rake.
They worked silently, save for the hum of the leaf blower, for a while.
“Hello Georgie!”
She was pretty certain there was a boy underneath the pounds of padding speeding down the street on a green ten speed. And she was pretty certain she knew who it was.
The figure waved, wavering precariously on the bike. “Hello Georgie!”
“Hello Sherman!” she called back.
He flew by the yard, barely keeping his bike under control. “See you Monday!”
Dillon was barely standing, holding on to the rake for support. “What?” Georgie snapped as Dillon’s peals of laughter reached her ears.
“Sherman loves Georgie!”
“Shut up, you socket-headed troll,” she threatened, advancing toward him.
Dillon giggled. “Mrs. Georgie MacDougal…”
“You’re a whore…he’s my lab partner, because someone couldn’t get into AP chem…”
“Hey Georgie,” Dillon teased, “maybe Sherman MacDougal can be your very first kiss!”
She stopped and stared at him disdainfully. “Blow me, slut box.” She stalked back to the center of the yard, turning the leaf blower on again, her back to Dillon.
Was she actually angry? He walked over to her. Georgie kept her back to him, sensing his presence, but intentionally ignoring him.
“What is your damage, Heather?” Dillon called over the hum of the leaf blower. She stiffened her shoulders, continuing to ignore him. Okay.
He tried again, nicer this time. “Georgie! Please!”
She turned off the machine, whirling to face him. “You know, you can joke,” she accused him. “At least you’ve had a first kiss, so why don’t you get off my back about…”
“Whoa whoa whoa!” He interrupted, grabbing her by the shoulders. “That’s why you’re being so pissy with me? Jesus, Georgie, I was just kidding.”
“Well, it’s not funny,” she bitched. She glared at him.
He stared at her. “Are you on your period?”
“Dillon! God!” He was disgusting.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He begged for mercy, showing his hands. Girls were so infuriating. Dillon sighed. “Look, Georgie, the only thing, the only thing at all, that kissing a girl proved is that I have no freaking clue what I’m doing and I probably ought to join a monastery, okay?”
She sniffed in response, but didn’t answer. It occurred to him for the second time in five minutes just how infuriating girls were.
“Georgie, come on,” he wheedled.
She relented slightly. “It just sucks, okay,” she said. “The girls talk in the bathroom the same as the guys talk in the locker room, and there’s this big competition thing, and I hate it.”
She had a point, but – “You’re not a guy,” Dillon pointed out. “And I’m not one of your girlfriends.”
“Yeah, but…”
“And there’s no competition,” he went on. “Not with us. Not with this.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. There’s always competition with friends when it comes to sex-esque stuff.”
“Well, not with us,” he said again. “We don’t have to one-up each other. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
He couldn’t resist teasing her. Even when he wanted to be nice, he couldn’t help himself. “Unless you’re covering up because you want me.” He winked at her.
That ego-centric little…he is such a Quartermaine! Well, two could play this game.
Georgie pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Desperately,” she breathed. “I dream of you.” She wrapped an arm around his neck, running her fingernails through his hair. “I pine, I perish.” She blew warm air on his neck.
She sucked. Did she really think she could beat him?
Dillon moaned loudly as Georgie pushed her fingers through his hair, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her close to his body. He licked his lips, inclining his head toward hers. She opened her mouth, his breath hot on her face as his lips descended toward hers…
“Haha!” Georgie laughed triumphantly as she turned the leaf blower on again, sending a swirl of leaves blowing up all around them. She pulled out of Dillon’s grasp, moving backwards, blowing leaves in his direction.
“Yes!” He yelled, raising his arms over his head. “I am the king of sexual tension chicken!”
“You are the king of nothing,” Georgie screamed back. “I rule all!” She sent a small pile of leaves streaming in his direction.
“Come here,” he yelled, making a grab for her. Georgie ducked, laughing. “Oh, I’m gonna get you!” He dove for her again, but at the last second, she changed directions, sending Dillon flying into a pile of leaves.
“Klutz!” Georgie yelled, running. Dillon scrambled to his feet, pitching an armload of leaves in her direction. They only got about three feet of distance. “Pathetic, Quartermaine!”
“You’ve got the advantage!” He yelled, pointing to the leaf blower.
“Yeah, I do!” She blew leaves at him to prove her point. He threw another armload at her.
Georgie ran. Dillon chased her around the yard. Or maybe she chased him.
And the leaves swirled all around them.

[JRK Archiver]

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Remember! Ze man is ze frame, and ze woman is ze Art!”

"Why, God, why?” Dillon groaned, struggling to maintain his posture.

“Why what?” Georgie mumbled, clutching him as they butchered a waltz. “Why do we have to learn this, why is Miss Crain using a French accent, or why is your hand sweating like you’re an adolescent boy who just saw his first boobs?”

“Yes, yes, and I am an adolescent boy, and there’s a pretty nice set brushing up against me,” Dillon countered. Georgie broke frame to punch him in the shoulder, causing him to yelp loudly.

“My darling Miss Jones and my dear Mr. Quartermaine, do transfer that lovely flirtatious energy of yours into the dance!”

Lovely flirtatious energy. Miss Crain might as well have just yelled out “Dillon, throw Georgie down on the ground and make passionate, unabashed love to her.” The snickers and cat calls seemed to echo in the high-ceilinged gymnasium.

“You see what being friends with a girl is costing me?” Dillon whispered.

“Well, it’s me or solitude,” Georgie countered, “’cause I’m the only one who can stand your sorry butt!”

“Silence, mes enfants!” Miss Crain clapped her hands loudly. “And now, assume the proper frame!”

There was shuffling as the roomful of untrained tenth graders tried to assume classical ballroom positions.

“Elbows up,” she called. “Gentlemen, the lady’s arm should rest on top of yours. Backs arched, heads back. No eye contact.” She demonstrated, holding an imaginary partner. “I love you….I can’t look at you….” She moved a few steps, whipping her head as she turned. “I love you….I can’t look at you….”

Georgie stuck her nose in the air and moved her head around. “I….like you as a friend…you’re too goofy to look at…”

“….I tolerate you….why are you wearing clown makeup?” Dillon joined in.

“Heyyy! I like it!” Georgie had taken care in applying the hot pink eyeshadow and turquoise liner that morning. She thought it looked fun and exotic.

“Dude, you look like a reject from Seventeen magazine.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Look who reads Seventeen…”

“I do not!”

“And,” called out Miss Crain, “let us commence….the dance!”

I've been meaning to tell you
I've got this feelin' that won't subside
I look at you and I fantasize

“Is she kidding?” Georgie whispered, as Dillon led her clumsily. “Aren’t you supposed to waltz to, like, classical music?”

“Heads up, darlings, up up!”

You're mine tonight
Now I've got you in my sights

“I’d like to put my foot up up her ass,” Georgie muttered. “Zee waltz says…romance, beauty…what does Eric Carmen say?”

With these hungry eyes
One look at you and I can't disguise
I've got hungry eyes
I feel the magic between you and I

“Nobody puts baby in a corner?” Dillon suggested.

“Have you…been…with many women?” Georgie demurred.
Dillon snorted.

The music changed, and the strings of Sous Le Ciel de Paris sounded through the room.

“And now,” called out Miss Crain, “you are in Paris, dancing on the Left Bank, the lights sparkling, darlings, sparkling over the Seine! You are in love…and you dance! You dance!”

“Christ on a cracker,” Dillon muttered. “But at least this is better than Dirty Dancing.”

“Frame up, darlings.” Miss Crain had moved next to them, tapping both Dillon and Georgie on the lower back to straighten them up. “Count with me. One, two, three, one two three…”

“One, two, three…one, two, three…” they parroted obediently, trying to step properly.

“Magnifique!” Miss Crain floated away, still counting. “One, two, three, one, two, three…”

“Fourteen…twenty seven…sixty two…”

[JRK Archiver]

Chapter Thirty-Six

“Mom, do you think we have enough pies?”

Lucas surveyed the kitchen counter, bedecked with pies of every autumn variety – apple, pumpkin, pecan, cranberry….it was a sugar addict’s dream come true.

“You have to have pie,” argued Georgie, placing marshmallows in neat rows on top of a dish of sweet potatoes.

“Exactly,” Bobbie agreed. “It’s Thanksgiving.”

“Holiday of the many calories,” added Maxie, whisking gravy near the sink.

“And speaking of calories, here are some more.” Lucky entered the kitchen, holding a platter of brownies.

“Hello! Where is everyone?”

“In here!” Bobbie called out.

Audrey entered the kitchen holding a bouquet of flowers, followed by Elizabeth, a plate in her hand.

“More brownies?” Lucas joked.

They looked from the plate in Lucky’s hand, to the one in Elizabeth’s, and back again.

Georgie could almost hear Dillon’s voice in her head, scripting out the moment. “The former lovers look at each other. Awkwardness ensues.”

“Well, you can’t have enough chocolate, right?” Bobbie asked brightly.
“Right!” Audrey replied cheerily, too cheerily. She knew it too, and laughed at herself for how hard she was trying to make everyone feel at ease.

“Thanks, Audrey.” Lucky took the brownies from Elizabeth and placed both plates on the counter. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Elizabeth squeezed him. “Happy Thanksgiving.”


“Where’s your boyfriend?” Lucas asked, handing Georgie a cranapple juice.

“Ew, gag me,” she replied. “You know he’s not my boyfriend.”

Lucas barely hid his smirk.

“We’re friends,” she said. “Just friends. And he’s with his family.”

Lucas nodded.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” She asked. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t have one!”

“Oh ho, look at Georgie-with-an-attitude!” Lucas chortled.


“Lucky,” Tony called. “You want a brew?”

“Uh, I better not,” Lucky replied, glancing at Mac. “I’m working tonight.”

“You’re not on till midnight, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s only five,” Mac said. “It’ll wear off by then. Go ahead, have one.”

“Thanks.” Lucky accepted the beer from Tony.

“Can I have one?” Lucas asked.

“Sure,” Tony replied, tossing Lucas a can of diet soda. “When you’re 21.”


“Shall we all say something we’re thankful for?” Lesley asked, once they were all seated around the table.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Bobbie agreed. “Lesley, will you begin?”

Lesley smiled. “I’d like to give thanks for the people we love who aren’t able to be with us today in person, but who are here in spirit and in our hearts.”

“I hope you’re not including me on that list, Les.”

“Luke!”

“Daddy!” Lulu scrambled from her seat and ran to her father as he strode into the dining room. She jumped on him, giving him no choice other than to scoop her up in his arms.

Luke’s family rose to greet him. From her spot across from him, Georgie could see a hint of wariness behind Lucky’s smile.

“Some men, even good men, have restless spirits, and could not survive in domesticity.” Georgie wasn’t sure if she had read that somewhere, or if she had made it up, but she understood it. Luke was like her own father, always on the move, never able to settle down. It didn’t make them bad men, or even bad fathers; it was just who they were. Maybe that’s why she had always felt so safe with Lucky, because he’d grown up not always knowing where his father was either, and he’d turned out happy. Of course, Luke came back from time to time, but Georgie had a fulltime father, even if it wasn’t her biological one. Even if he could be the bane of her existence. She was thankful for –

“Ponies!”

Georgie was broken from her pensive daze by Lulu’s excited squeal. Everyone laughed.

“She’s been obsessed by ponies, lately,” Lesley explained.

“Nikolas offered to buy her one,” Lucky chimed in, rolling his eyes slightly at his brother. Nikolas held up his hands in surrender.

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t let him,” Elizabeth reminded him from across the table.

“Hey, my little sister is not going to grow up thinking that you can have anything you want handed to you on a silver platter,” Lucky objected strongly.

“Cowboy,” Luke chimed in, “don’t you know not to fight with your lady love? She’s always right. Learn that.”

In a movie script, Georgie thought, the stage direction would read ‘an uncomfortable silence’.

“But Lucky and ‘Lizbeth aren’t in love,” Lulu piped up. “They’re brokened.”

“My humblest apologies, I was not aware of the current situation,” Luke said grandly. “However, Miss Webber, let me take this opportunity to apologize to you, on behalf of my only son, for whatever jackass thing he may have done to you.”

“Daddy said a bad word.”

“And my apologies to you as well, Princess Lulu.”

Lulu beamed. She loved being called that. Luke could say as many bad words as he wanted, so long as she got to be Princess Lulu.

“Lucky didn’t do anything, Luke,” Elizabeth assured. “There are no bad feelings-“

“We’re still close, everyone’s still friends, it’s all good,” Lucky added in a rush. “Now can we please discuss anything other than the state of my romantic life at the dinner table?”

“Yes, let’s get back to saying…” Audrey tried to help.

“At least you have a romantic life,” Maxie said yearningly.

“Had,” Lucas countered. “He had a romantic life. They broke up.”

Lucky’s nostrils flared slightly. Elizabeth blushed uncomfortably.

“That doesn’t mean…”

“I’m thankful for my dad,” Georgie almost shouted, interrupting whatever Maxie was about to say.

Lucky and Elizabeth shot her grateful looks. Mac swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I’m thankful we can all be here as a family,” Tony said.

“I’m thankful for microwave ovens,” Lucas added. “I don’t like cold sweet potatoes.”

Someone had to say it…


Georgie grabbed the phone off her night table before the first ring had finished.

“So what kind of pizza did you get?”

Dillon laughed. “Squid,” he replied. “In honor of you.”

“Really?” She was touched. Sort of.

“No!” He laughed. “Man, you’ve got some ego, Jones, you know that?”

“Screw you,” she replied. “Did you sing the song,” she added quickly, before Dillon could say “in your dreams” or “you know you want to.”

“Of course. And how about you,” he countered, “did you go around the table saying what you were all thankful for?”

“Of course.”

“And what did you say you were thankful for?” Dillon queried.

“You.”

“Really?” He sounded touched. Mostly.

Georgie laughed. “No! Man, you’ve got some ego, Quartermaine, you know that?”

[JRK Archiver]

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“Hold out your hand”

“Why?”

Georgie rolled her eyes as she and Dillon walked out of the darkened theatre and into the lobby. She breathed in deeply for a moment, loving the smell of the Moroccan. Somehow, the scent of dusty velvet and burned popcorn made her happy. Dillon, at the moment, did not.

“Don’t be a pain in the whoziwatzis,” she warned him. “Just hold out your hand.”

He peered at her. “You don’t have whoziwhatzis,” he informed her. “So how can I be a pain in them?”

Georgie glared. “Hand, dickhead.”

“Tsk, tsk, language Miss Jones!” Dillon lisped slightly, but held out his hand.

“Language this.” She shoved a handful of green gummy bears into his palm. “Next time I’ll eat them myself.” She stalked in front of him. “You are such a pain in my ass.”

Dillon grinned to himself, popping a gummy bear in his mouth. He ran to catch up with Georgie, opening the door for her. “Let me.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, stepping through the door. “Oh my god…”

As they stepped outside, they were greeted by the curtain of tiny white flakes falling from the sky, landing on their coats in stars, and becoming hidden in the already-forming blanket on the ground and the hedges.

“Dillon, it’s snowing!”

He looked around him at the quick-falling snow. “It is?” He gagged as Georgie punched him in the stomach. “Oh! Was that necessary?”

“You deserved it,” she replied calmly. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“What moment?” He groaned, still slightly doubled over.

Georgie stood with her head titled back, her eyes closed. “The first snowfall. It’s finally here.” She almost whispered. “Make a wish.”

She held her hand out to Dillon. He looked at her oddly, but slipped his hand into hers. They stood in silence.

“Now what?”

“Shhhhh…” she whispered. “Close your eyes.”

He did, feeling the cold coming down on his eyelids and cheeks. Georgie’s fingers were cold, but her palm was warm next to his. He could hear her breathing through her nose, in and out.

“White Christmas,” she murmured. “It’s perfect.”

“Not Christmas yet,” Dillon teased, risking another barrage of fists from Georgie. Fortunately for him, she was too caught up in the reverie of snow to bother violating him further.

“Less than 24 hours,” she murmured, opening her eyes and looking at him through snowflake-dusted lashes. Dillon absently traced circles on her palm with his thumb.

“Are we still on for midnight,” he queried.

Georgie nodded. “Midnight.”



“Okay,” Dillon asked. “Are you all ready?”

Georgie snuggled back against her pillows. She could smell the apple cider on the nightstand next to her. “I think so,” she replied. “How much time do we have?”

“T minus four minutes.”

“What does that mean anyway,” she wondered. “T minus? What does the T stand for?”

“No time now,” Dillon instructed. “Get the lights.”

Georgie hopped out of bed to shut the lights off, and rushed back to the sanctuary of her pillows and comforter.

“You set?” He asked, when she picked the phone up again.

“Yep,” she replied. “You?” She leaned against her headboard, her cider in one hand, the cordless in the other, the remote control by her side.

Dillon leaned against his headboard, his hot chocolate in one hand, the cordless in the other, the remote by his side. “All set. You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?”

“No,” she promised. “Are you?”

“No way!”

Georgie giggled. “This is so ‘When Harry Met Sally’ watching ‘Casablanca’ ”

Dillon beamed. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Shut up. I swear, you are such a…”

He shushed her. “No time. Midnight. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“One…” he counted.

“Two…” she replied.

“Three.” They pressed Play.

“I owe everything to George Bailey. Help him dear Father...”

“Merry Christmas, Dillon.”

“Merry Christmas, Georgie.”

[JRK Archiver]

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“Mac, you promised,” Maxie whined. “I’ve been looking forward to this party for weeks.”

“Maxie, I’m concerned,” Mac rationalized. “There are a lot of crazy drivers out tonight.”

“So I have to be punished for other people’s bad choices?” Maxie demanded. “That’s not fair.”

Georgie could hear them from upstairs. She lingered in the hallway.

“You can go,” Mac assured her. “But you’re not taking the car. I’ll drive you and pick you up.”

“Oh no,” Maxie yelled. “No way. I am not going to be treated like some infant with my father carting me to and from the party.”

“I’ll drop you off down the street,” Mac promised. “No one will see me.”

“This sucks!”

“Keep up the attitude, Maxie, and you won’t go to the party at all.”

“And what,” Maxie demanded, “go with you and Georgie to the Quarterlame shindig? Woohoo.”

“And stay here alone,” Mac countered. “Your choice.”

“Fine,” Maxie scoffed. “But you’re not picking me up before one.”

She stomped toward the stairs. Georgie beat a hasty retreat to her room. Maxie had mellowed out a lot lately, but she still had a temper, and when it flared – look out.

* * * * *

“Look at you,” Bobbie squealed. “You look so grown up! I can’t get over it.”

Georgie squirmed, smoothing down her dress. It was orange-red, with a flared skirt and a low cut neckline designed to show off her newly-acquired cleavage, but not too much.

“Doesn’t she?” Bobbie demanded of Lucas. “Doesn’t she look grown up?”

“Bobbie!” Georgie protested.

“Aunt Bobbie, are you embarrassing the poor girl?” Lucky to the rescue.

“You be careful, Lucky, or I’ll go on about what a man you’ve turned out to be,” Bobbie threatened sweetly.

“I’m gonna go get a soda,” Lucas said, starting to escape quickly. He nodded at Georgie. “You do look pretty great, though.”

“Thanks,” she blushed.

“I’m bored.”

Georgie turned around.

“Dillon,” she said patiently. “The party just started.”

“Yes,” he concurred, “but it’s boring. Stuffy adults pretending they like each other, for some sort of pomp and circumstance.”

Georgie looked around. “Em and all are here,” she pointed out. “So is Lucas.”

“Lucas hates me,” Dillon reminded her. “Em is caught up with Zander, and Lucky and Elizabeth are busy pretending that they don’t feel awkward being dates by default for New Years’ Eve.”

“Okay,” Georgie agreed, “what do you want to do?”

Dillon winked. “I have a Doris Day box set in my room.”

Georgie put a hand on her heart. “Dillon! I’m so honored that you chose me to come out to.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks. Say it with me ‘I’m here, I’m queer, get used to – Dillon!”

Dillon raised his gaze from Georgie’s chest. “What?”

“Pervert!”

“Dude, what do you expect in that dress?”

Georgie gaped at him. “You said something about movies?”

Dillon gestured grandly. “After you.”

* * * * *

“Are you ready?”

Georgie sighed, kicking off her shoes and flopping down on Dillon’s bed. “For the movie? Yes, Quartermaine, lose the fanfare and shove it in.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your future lovers will be just so lucky.”

“Heh heh.”

“But,” he said dramatically, “that’s not what I meant.” He reached beneath his sport jacket, pulling out a bottle. “Ta da!”

Georgie’s mouth dropped. “You swiped champagne? Dillon!”

He took a swig from the already opened, but still full bottle. “A little bubbly, my dear?”

Georgie laughed at his put-upon airs. She hesitated a moment and then realized, when else would she get to drink champagne from the bottle.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

* * * * *

“People are counting,” Georgie giggled. She lay on her back on Dillon’s bed.

“But they’re doing it wrong,” he pointed out from his spot on the floor.

Celebratory shouts came from downstairs.

“Happy New Year! Happy New Year!” Dillon repeated.

Georgie sat up, gasping. “Dillon!”

“What?”

“Maybe it’s New Year!”

He sat up as well, opening his mouth wide. “Cool! What do we do?”

Georgie thought hard. She scratched her head. She rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand, like the Rodin statue.

Then it came to her.

“We drink champagne!”

“It’s all gone,” Dillon whined.

Georgie’s shoulders slumped. She thought hard again.

“Oh, I know! We kiss! That’s what you do!”

Dillon grinned. “Okay!” He kissed his hands loudly, and gestured wildly at Georgie. “MWAH!”

“MWAH!”

They threw, or perhaps whipped would be more accurate, kisses at each other from across the room, giggling incessantly at their brilliance, until they heard Mac’s voice calling for Georgie.

“Ooopsie,” she giggled. “That’s my daddy. I gotta go.”

She skipped out of the room, forgetting her shoes. Dillon followed her.

They tripped down the stairs, waving. “Hi!”

“Oh…”
“My….”
“God…”

At least half of the guests, gathered in the foyer, stared at the barely teenage kids, shocked.

“Georgie?” Lucky sputtered.

Dillon?” Emily sighed, concerned.

“Hello!” They called out, thrilled by their captive audience. “Merry New Year!” Georgie cried.

Dillon hit her. “Happy!” he corrected. “It’s happy, not merry!”

She pouted. “Oh. Sorry.”

Mac stormed over to them, pushing Ned to the ground as he tried to stand in his way. He grabbed Dillon, pulling him close. “What the hell did you do to my daughter?”

“Mac, wait!”

Lucky, Zander and Elizabeth rushed forward to try to pull Mac off of Dillon. Emily and Skye moved to help Ned up. Still on the bottom step, Georgie wavered precariously.

“Ooooh….” She moaned, suddenly dizzy.
“Hey…” Lucas, standing by the staircase, darted to support Georgie, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her arm over his shoulder. “Careful.”

She stared at him. “You’re nice, Lucas. You’re so…”

And with that she promptly threw up down the front of Lucas’s blue dress shirt and patterned tie.

“Oh!” Lucas let out a disgusted groan. “Georgie!”

Mac nearly threw Dillon at Ned. “Keep him away from my daughter,” he snapped, moving toward Georgie and taking her protectively to his side. “Come on.”

He guided her out toward the door, shaking his head and apologizing to Monica and Alan as he passed them.

“Go on,” Alan gestured to Lucas. “Go clean yourself up. You can borrow a shirt out of A.J.’s room. He won’t mind.”

Lucas looked inquisitive.

“Bathroom six doors on the left, bedroom across the hall,” Monica filled in.

“Thanks.” Lucas rushed up the stairs.

Dillon, leaning against Ned, looked around at the people. “Where’d Georgie go?”


“She went home,” Ned replied evenly.

Dillon nodded, accepting this. “Happy New Year!” He shouted.

Ned sighed, nodding. “Happy New Year,” he replied. “You’re grounded for a month.”

[JRK Archiver]

Chapter Thirty-Nine

February 2002

“I refuse. I protest. I will make picket signs,” Dillon insisted, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest.

Georgie rolled her eyes at his histrionics.

“Stop being such a guy, Dillon! You said I could pick the movie, and this is what I pick, so deal with it.”

He groaned loudly, not caring about the stares that he was eliciting from the other patrons walking by the mall Cineplex.

“Geor-geeeee,” he whined. “The Thin Man is playing at the Moroccan, can’t we see that?”

She shook her head stubbornly. “No. I want to see A Walk to Remember.”

Dillon pouted and sputtered. “But it’s a chick movie!”

“I’m a chick, Dillon!” She gestured haphazardly to her feminine attributes. “Hello!”

He looked like he was about to stomp his foot. “But it’s Mandy Moore. Mandy “I’m missing you like candy” Moore. Why don’t you just stick bamboo shoots under my fingernails?”

Georgie smirked. “Well, if you know the song, you can’t think she’s all that bad, now can you?” she teased.

“F…”

“Tsk tsk, language!” she mocked, cutting him off. “Besides, I’m not seeing it for her, I’m seeing it for him.”

Dillon groaned again. “Shane West? Come on, Georgie, he’s got no depth. He just looks quasi-pretty. He’s like in the boy band of actors, like Josh Hartnett or James Van Der Beek.”

“He’s hot,” she scoffed.

Dillon rolled his eyes. “Please, I’m hotter than he is.”

Georgie rolled her eyes. “I say this as your best friend, please believe me when I tell you that you are nowhere nearly as hot as he is. Not even close.”

“Like you’re so hot?”

“Did I ever say I was hot?”

Dillon snorted. “You are not making me see this.”

Georgie nodded. “Oh you bet your butt I am.”

He crossed his arms, his bargaining face on. “Okay, fine. If I see this, you buy tickets and snacks.”

She smirked. “I already said I would.”

“And you owe me the 12 hour John Wayne marathon next weekend.”

She shook her head. “4 hours!”

“Ten,” he countered.

“Six.”

“Eight, and I throw in pizza and ice cream,” he negotiated, final offer.

Georgie stuck out her hand. “Deal. But no heckling the movie.”

“I make no promises,” Dillon retorted, shaking on the deal.

Georgie narrowed her eyes at him. “No heckling and I’ll buy you an ice cream sundae at Kelly’s”

“Ten heckles and a extra thick milkshake.”

“Three heckles and root beer float, final offer,” Georgie told him firmly.

Dillon nodded. “Fine. I’ll take a large orange soda and peanut butter M&Ms.”

“Oh good, Technicolor vomiting is in our future,” she muttered, walking toward the box office.

“Please,” he called after her. “I’ve seen you put away twice that without blinking.”

* * * * *

“If there is a greater power, why is it he can't get you a new sweater?”
”Because, he's too busy looking for your brain.”

“Ooh, score one for preacher girl!” Dillon whispered loudly, tossing an M&M in the air and catching it in his mouth.

Georgie held up one finger. “Two to go,” she warned him, her eyes on the screen.

Dillon smirked.

* * * * *

“Jamie... I love you.”
“Now would be the time to say something.”
“I told you not to fall in love with me.”

“But why not?” Dillon whispered, and answered himself, “because I’m really a man, baby!”
“That’s two,” Georgie whispered. “And your Austin Powers sucks.”
“Do I make you horny, baby?” he mocked.
“You make me ill,” she retorted, throwing a snowcap at him. “Now shut up and let me watch the movie.”
Dillon stuck his tongue out at her and made kissy faces at the screen.

* * * * *

“Jamie saved my life. She taught me everything. About life, hope and the long journey ahead. I'll always miss her. But our love is like the wind. I can't see it, but I can feel it”

“Can’t…contain…myself…” Dillon gasped, his hand to his heart. “Must…weep…openly…”

Georgie swiped a quick hand across her eyes to avoid his imminent mockery and slugged him in the gut.

“Ugh!”

“Can’t…contain…myself…” she mimicked. “Must…beat…Dillon…”

“Hey, you said I get three,” he protested. “That was three. You owe me the sundae for hitting me.”

Georgie shook her head as they walked out of the theater. “No way.”

“You reneged,” he informed her. “I want my sundae.”

She glared. “The float stands. And I’ll throw in a plate of fries to offset hitting you.”

He shrugged. “Acceptable, I suppose.”

“Acceptable, I suppose,” she mimicked as they reached the door.

He held it open. “After you, Rambette.”

“Dumbass,” she shot back, walking through the doorway and heading down the street. Dillon followed her, wondering what on earth she’d seen in that excuse for a film.

As he plodded along the slushy sidewalk, Georgie suddenly spun around and marched back to him.

“What?” he asked, stopping in his tracks.

She reached up and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek.

Despite the cold in the air, Dillon suddenly felt his face heating up.

“Thanks,” Georgie said, and then added “loser,” for good measure before she continued walking.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, “retard.”

If she noticed that his cheeks were red, he could just blame the cold.