And The Winner Is...
By TheBucketWoman
Disclaimer: Nope, don't have any claim on LWD, Nirvana, Fall Out Boy, Rolling Stone magazine (outside of the subscription that is). And opinions expressed on any subject are those of the fictional characters alone. Okay?
Chapter Eleven
Part One: Edwin
Lizzie was lying across Edwin's bed while he noodled around on his new computer. He was playing solitaire, but only minutes ago, Lizzie had tried her damnedest to get him to show her what he'd filmed so far. He'd let her see some mild "Marti Trying to do Cartwheels in the Backyard" footage and some of "Dad Barbecuing, Part One!" None of which scratched the surface of what he was really up to. But now he was playing solitaire and listening to the music he'd put on shuffle.
Now and then he caught Lizzie bopping her head to the music as she went through one of Derek's old issues of Rolling Stone. He hoped his bed would smell a little of that stuff she wears, the fruity stuff that Casey gave her for her birthday.
"Why's everyone who writes for this magazine so angry?" Lizzie said, finally closing it and putting it aside.
"Dunno," Edwin said.
A new song kicked in-- Nirvana's "About a Girl."
"Do you realize that this song is older than we are?" Lizzie said, sitting up.
"It's about as old as Derek," Edwin said. That was part of what he liked about it. He couldn't explain why, but he had a soft spot for music more than ten years old. He loved most new stuff, but the old stuff gave him the same feeling he'd gotten going through all of the old attic stuff when they'd been setting the attic up as his room.
Lizzie smiled and wrinkled her nose. "Can't really dance to it, though."
"Maybe you can't..." Edwin said, and did his own, patented, jerky, drunk old man at a wedding dance.
"That" Lizzie said, pointing, "is why no one admits to knowing you at school dances."
"They're jealous," Edwin said. He did a quick cabbage patch, then the snake. He went over to the bed and grabbed her arm.
"Dance with me," he said, pulling her up. He dared to pull her close for a second, then took her left hand in his right, lifted it up, and tangoed her across the room.
"Oh my God," Lizzie said as Edwin's first attempt at a dip went horribly wrong and they both collapsed in a heap onto the floor.
This was the type of opportunity that Derek would have taken, but Edwin's first instinct had been to roll off of Lizzie really fast and ask her twenty different ways whether she was absolutely sure that she was okay.
"Relax, doofus," Lizzie said. "I'm okay!"
He helped her up and she pulled herself together, running one hand through her hair and smoothing her shirt down. Somehow she managed to look freshly pressed. That had to be a MacDonald thing, because no one in his family had ever looked that neat and fresh, not for a minute. Maybe Marti...for a minute.
Edwin himself, for example, was thoroughly wrinkled and his hair was currently flopping onto his forehead and curling a little. He pushed it back and it flopped back down.
"Need a haircut," he muttered to himself. He half wanted to put on a hat.
"No you don't," Lizzie said. She ran both hands through his hair in one quick, almost professional move (another MacDonald thing—Nora did it all the time). "Now don't touch," Lizzie said, her nose almost touching his. Then she moved back again.
Another blown opportunity.
In his mind, he could hear Derek say, "Amateur!"
While Imaginary Derek berated him, his dad poked his head into the room.
"What the hell you two doing up there?"
"Fell down," Lizzie said.
"Sounded like the end of the world," Dad said.
"Sorry," Edwin said.
"Just try not to break anything, 'kay?" With that, Dad turned around and went back down the stairs. Edwin could hear him singing the Nirvana song all the way down.
Nirvana gave way to Fall Out Boy, so Edwin gave a little bow and held his arms out to dance with Lizzie again.
Part Two: Derek.
As he and Casey crossed their lawn, Derek had one massive headache. He needed to stop thinking about what Sheldon had just said to him and he needed to do so now, or his circuits might overheat.
Unfortunately, Casey would be interrogating him as soon as they got inside, he was sure of it.
And Sheldon had asked him not to tell her.
He'd begged, in fact.
"I'm even sorry I told you," Sheldon had said. "I really do have the single biggest mouth in Canada."
Derek hadn't disagreed. Earlier, Sheldon, with his usual tact and grace, had responded to Derek's raised eyebrows with :
"Okay, so Casey is taller, thinner, has better grades, and does everything better than Emily. According to Em herself, anyway. And she thinks that Casey has gotten everything that Emily's ever wanted."
Like what? Derek wrote.
"Like you, for example," Sheldon said. "You so much as wink at her, and I can consider myself dumped. I'd feel the wind of her passing me by and wonder where it came from."
"And now she wants a certain part, and when Casey said she wasn't trying out, Emily thought she had a shot," Sheldon continued. "Now she thinks that's gone poof, too."
It took a few blinks for Derek to process this. He raised a finger, then lowered it. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He picked up the pad again.
Why the hell do you put up with this, Schlep? He wrote. He wanted to be able to yell at Sheldon so much right then.
"I love her?" Sheldon said.
This was about where Derek's headache started.
This was really not something Derek wanted to share. So, on their couch, a few minutes later, when Casey turned to him and asked just what the hell was going on, he'd shrugged.
"Derek," Casey said. "I know you know something, so just tell me."
He looked at her pleadingly.
"Come on, this is serious, isn't it?" Casey said. "If there's something that I should know about, you can't let me go around completely ignorant of something everyone else seems to know. Now what's going on with Emily and Sheldon? It's important right?"
Why do you want to know? Derek wrote.
"I don't know!" Casey said. "Maybe it's something I can help with?"
Derek shook his head.
"Then is it really bad?" Casey asked. "Is Emily pregnant?"
Derek burst out laughing. It was getting to be a real chore to laugh quietly. Especially if people were going to continue to be so ridiculous.
"Okay, not pregnant," Casey said. "A simple no would've done the trick, Derek."
Sorry, he mouthed.
"So then why did Emily turn so psycho and secretive on what seemed like a perfectly nice little pool party? And you know, and Sheldon knows and I don't know. What is wrong with that picture?" Casey said.
She was figuring it out. Sherlock Holmes had nothing on her.
"So," Casey said. "It's about me?"
Derek raised his eyebrows and said nothing.
"Why would Emily be so pissed at me that she'd attack a poor defenseless blender?"
Derek shrugged.
"But I didn't even freakin do anything!" Casey said. "What'd I do?"
Derek shook his head.
"Okay," Casey said. "You're obviously not going to tell me. So I can drive myself nuts about it or I can get ready for tomorrow..."
This made Derek bite his lip. He was so lucky that he didn't play poker.
"Oh crap," Casey said. "I'm such an idiot."
Derek knew enough not to nod his head at this.
"It's because I've been so busy getting ready for this audition and Em and I have barely spoken all week. I didn't even ask her what she was going to sing! She must think I am so self-involved!" Casey said. She couldn't really be this dense could she?
Sorry Sheldon, he thought.
You two are going for the same part, he wrote.
"That's what she's mad about?" Casey said. "But that's so stupid! Probably neither of us'll get the part, and we can be in the chorus together! God, what a drama queen!"
Casey got up to change before dinner, and Derek started to bang his head on the arm of the couch.
Part Three: George
Derek had a look on his face that George knew well. It was a mix of confusion, exasperation, abject misery and the tiniest dash of exhaustion.
Welcome to your first serious relationship, son, George thought. He ruffled Derek's hair as he passed the couch.
"Dinner's almost ready," he said. Derek nodded, but for a change, looked a little less than enthusiastic. That wouldn't last. All George would have to do is open the oven and release the meatloaf scent into the air and kids would come out of the woodwork.
He was, of course, breaking in the new potholders Marti made at day camp this week, just as the whole family had been making use of the lanyards and the paperweights. One week at day camp and the girl turned into Marti Stewart.
"Can I do the garnish, Daddy?" Marti asked when she came down.
"The, um...garnish?" George said. He didn't even think he had parsley.
"Cuz Tony's going to cooking school and he says that you gotta make food pretty, otherwise people won't eat it. I told him he never met Smerek and Edwin, but he does make the food pretty." Tony was one of her camp counselors. She talked about him a lot.
"Anyway," Marti continued. "He put ketchup squiggles on the burgers the other day, and I thought that meatloaf would be good with some ketchup squiggles."
So he let her pre-ketchup the meatloaf.
"Pretty," Edwin said when he saw it.
"Well, Miss Smarti," Nora said. "You must help with dinner more often."
"I would need a raise in my allowance, though, cuz top chefs don't come cheap."
Derek and Edwin snorted in perfect unison. Both had taught her well over the years. Casey clapped a hand over her mouth, having just taken a sip of her milk. She got up and headed to the sink, where it was a full minute before she could even spit it out. Lizzie and Nora laughed openly.
"Good one," Nora said.
"Who's kidding?" Marti said, holding out a hand.
"Need I remind you of the new bike, new sneakers and assorted new other stuff?" George said.
"Oh yeah," Marti said. She turned to Derek. "Smerek, finish your meatloaf." He'd barely touched it thus far. He really was in a bad mood.
But he ate when she told him to.