Deciduous
Acepilot

AN - Chapter 9. This chapter is a little strange, and it's actually the last one of the 10 that I wrote - I finished Chapter 10 a few months ago, so expect it in a couple of days. It's a relief to finally be finished this fic, I'll tell you. I thought I was just never going to get there. I hope the first scene works - it was something I really struggled to write but it was one of the first ideas I had while coming up with the concept of this fic. Please review.

Disclaimer - see chapter 1.

---

I run a hand through my hair. Again.

"Stop doing that, you're going to look like a mess," Mom fusses over me.

I roll my eyes. In my opinion, I very rarely don't look like a mess anyway - for which I can blame Uncle Phil. Someone once told me that, if I did my hair right, I'd look exactly like him with Dil's coloration. I tried it once and decided the resemblance was a little too close for comfort, and therefore have sworn to never, ever do it again.

"Sorry, I'm just nervous," I excuse myself, lazily.

It's only half a lie. I actually am nervous. I don't really do dances or anything. For one thing, I can't dance. And for another, my socializing skills need serious work.

But this might be my last chance to fix things with her. My last chance ever. After tonight, I might never see her again.

And I can't go the rest of my life wondering what might have happened if I had never tried.

Andy is leaning against the doorjamb to the living room looking at me with a grin on his face. "Well, well, Mr. Pickles. Don't you look all spiffy." I pit him with a glare but he just continues to smile cockily. "We've got to get pictures of this."

The problem is that Mom probably will.

I like to think that I actually don't look that bad. Well...it's a nice suit, anyway. It's black, mostly, but with a white tie. Formal wear. I just don't think I'll ever get used to it. Good thing I'm not planning on getting married anytime soon. A suit feels bad enough, I certainly am not looking forward to a full fledged penguin setup.

"I think you look dashing," Cassie offers from the couch.

I smile at that, though I realize that it probably doesn't mean much. "Thanks anyway," I tell her.

Mom glares at me, but just says, "Come on, up against the wall. And you look like you're about to throw up."

"I told you I was nervous," I mutter, standing against the nearest wall to let her take my picture.

Just as she's finishing up, Dad dashes into the room. "Sorry I'm late!" he exclaims, grabbing the back of the couch while he tries to catch his breath. "I didn't miss anything, did I?"

"What is there to miss?" I ask exasperatedly.

"How did the family tree project go?" he asks, slinging his backpack onto the couch and digging through it for something.

I raise an eyebrow at his odd behavior but let it slide. "I got a High Distinction for it. It went down a hit."

He nods. "Good. Did anyone on it end up telling the story about you dancing around the backyard in -"

"No, Dad."

"Oh well." He finally seems to find what he was searching for, and withdraws it from the bag. It's a small box with a ribbon wrapped around it. He steps up to Mom and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Look, James, we were going to save this for your 18th birthday, or for Graduation Day, or whatever - but we decided that now was the best time." He sighs, and I see Mom rub his arm seemingly in support. Andy and Cassie have caught on to the fact that whatever's going on is pretty important and both sit up and take notice - Andy drops into Dad's chair and Cassie sits up on the couch.

Dad takes another deep breath. "I should have given you this years ago, I guess. Grandpa gave it to me when I was one, when Dil was born. I didn't understand what it meant at the time, of course. But...all this family tree stuff that you've been doing lately...it's gotten me thinking about family, and what we share and everything. And...as much as I want to, I don't think I can put off giving you this any longer."

He hands me the box, and I can notice a tear in his left eye. Which strikes me as slightly odd - I don't think I've ever seen Dad cry, except when Cassie was born, and he was worried that she and Mom might die.

I untie the ribbon carefully and lift the lid off gently.

Inside is a pocket watch. It's shiny and very evidently well cared for - and restored, recently, by the looks of it. I flick it open and look at the pictures inside. There are three, in total - one in the case, and two back to back in a page - one of me, Andy and Cassie when we were younger, about the age that Dad was on the road most of the time. The second is one of Phil, Kimi, Dad, Mom, Chuckie, Angelica, Dil, Amanda and...Suzie. It's in a park somewhere, but it's too small to tell where, or when. The last is one I realize that I've never seen before - it's of Dad, Dil, Grandpa and...my great-grandfather, it takes me a moment to work out.

It then dawns on me that this watch must have belonged to my great-grandfather, which would explain why Dad is so choked up over it. All I know of Great-Grandpa is that he died before I was born, before Dad and Mom were married. But I know that he and Dad were really, really close, and that - while he tells anecdotes about our family patriarch, it's always done with a sadness lingering in the back of his eyes. This thing must mean a lot to him, and I instantly realize just how much this watch means.

"That belonged to my father, and his father before him," Dad confirms my silent revelation. "It's very old, and it means a lot. And it's yours. It's a part of this family, and some day you're going to give it to your son, too. I hope you learned how strong this family is during your project, James. I hope you found out that we're a very close group of people who, despite all our flaws, love each other very much."

I literally can't speak. I've never seen my father so emotional. I can see Mom rubbing his back in support while he continues to struggle against tears. I step up to him and wrap him up in a hug that he's too stunned to respond to for a moment. "Thanks, Dad," I manage.

He nods against me and when I pull back I'm happy to see him smiling.

I grin and look down at my jacket. "Oh, look, you've crinkled my nice new suit."

---

I'm still checking my jacket pocket for the reassuring weight of the watch as I sit at my table, trying to eat but at the same time trying not to look too much like I want to eat. It's an etiquette thing. It drives me up the wall.

The one thing that makes me feel safe is the knowledge that no-one is watching me. No, everyone is watching the teacher's table, where Phil is making one hell of a racket, telling jokes - most of them probably inappropriate - and acting slightly tipsy. I wouldn't be entirely surprised if Aunt Kimi was going to have to cart his carcass home in their station wagon come the end of the night.

I've thankfully avoided dancing thus far tonight. There was, however, very nearly casualties when Phil insisted that he had to get a photo of me and Sophie standing next to each other, as proof that "it was possible to put us in the same room as knives and have both of us escape intact".

I'm never going to forgive the sneaky bugger.

"If we could just have your attention," Rheese calls from the stage at the head of the dancefloor, a grin on her face suggesting she might be slightly merry. Of course, she's only been drinking softdrinks, so I don't know how she managed that.

Not that I don't have my theories.

"We would now like to hand out some awards," she tells us, "so stay seated and shut up."

We have a brief chuckle at that, and Jess and I exchange glances of amusement across the table before turning back to face the lectern again.

"First up, the award for 'Sexiest Female'. Our nominees were..." she reads her sheet, then reads it again - out of disbelief or blurred vision, I'm not sure. "Jessica Mathieson, Rhonda Porter and Rheese Green."

I still can't believe that's really her name.

"And the winner is...Jessica Mathieson."

Rheese sounds put out, but Jess just gets up, throws her hair back and grins cockily, and strides to the stage very provocatively. Our entire table - mostly males: me, Alex, Luke, Wayne, Matt and just Belinda as our other female representative - applauds the loudest.

The rest of the individual awards go quietly by, except for when I won the "Most Opinionated" award with no-one else even nominated. No surprises there. Phil wins all the teacher awards, from "Best Dressed", to "Funniest" to just plain "Best". I won't be able to shut him up about it for months.

But then...

"And our final award for the night," Rheese, by now sounding very tipsy, to the point that I'm not convinced she's not just faking it, "is the 'Get Together Already!' Award."

And my stomach plummets several metres.

"We only had the one nominee for this one," Rheese tells us, "because everyone other than the couple involved evidently thought the same thing. So, please, welcome to the stage the winners of our 'Get Together Already' Award..."

Oh no...

"James and Sophie!"

Our eyes instantly meet across the room and I swear I can see her trying to kill me with her mind. Neither of us move. Maybe if we just sit still enough, it'll all go away.

The rest of our graduating class, however, aren't falling for that trick. Alex and Matt, laughing and cheering to a point of being deafening, are physically hauling me out of my seat. I see her friends doing the same to her across the room, and they more-or-less drag us to the stage, depositing us unceremoniously next to each other in front of Rheese. I look out over the crowd and I have this eerie feeling like I'm at my own wedding.

Rheese smiles very sinisterly at us before handing us our certificate. "Good luck, lovebirds," she mutters to us, out of the mic's range, before screaming, "Kiss!" into the mic.

My eyes widen as I watch and hear the rest of the crowd - including my treacherous friends - join in the chant.

But, no matter how frightened the concept made me, I'm still somehow disappointed when Sophie turns away and walks - no, flees - back to her own table without a backward glance.

---

I'm sitting at our table, watching everyone - all my friends, my classmates, my colleagues - dance happily on the wooden floor in front of me. They're having a great time, and while part of me is, another part of me isn't. The unfortunate part of me that has a perchance for sulking miserably in corners.

Jess kisses Alex on the cheek and comes back over to the table to sit down opposite me with a strange look on her face. I'm not quite sure what it means. And I thought I'd seen all of Jess' facial expressions.

It becomes something of a game between us. To see which happens first - she says something, or I crack from her staring at me.

Neither, it turns out. Because, just as I was about to say something, she rises from her seat, grabs me by an arm, and bodily drags me onto the floor.

"Hey, I was - "

"Keeping the seat warm?" she quips, forcing me to start dancing. I dredge up a dance that Mom taught me years ago and manage (mostly) to move to the music.

"I don't like dancing."

"I remember," she tells me. "But I had to do something to get your mind off her. You know, I could swear you were almost disappointed when she didn't kiss you before."

Damn. I thought I'd hidden it better than that.

"You might have hidden it from everyone else," she intrudes on my thoughts, "but not from me. I know you too well, Jimmy."

I sigh. "I'm not in love with her. I don't even like her, like her."

Jess shakes her head at me. "That's the thing - I think you do. I think she's just crept in on you. You didn't realize it. Maybe you didn't want to. But it's what's happened all the same."

"What difference does it make? She'll never speak to me tonight. And after tonight, she'll just disappear forever, and that'll be that."

Jess gives me a tight little smile that I learned long ago meant she was up to no good. "You might be surprised."

I arch a suspicious eyebrow at her. "What's that meant to mean?"

Her smile doesn't twitch. "Let's just say I've got operatives working the crowd. Anyway, James, I think you've got to remember that the point of tonight is to have some fun. Don't think too much about what has or hasn't happened. Just...enjoy yourself. You don't do that enough."

I sigh, but she's got a point. I could probably do with a bit of a good time every now and then.

So, with that in mind, I dance with her, not letting the rest of the world trouble me, not thinking about anything else.

But, against my will, I'm not surprised to notice that my eyes keep seeking Sophie out in the crowd.