Alrighty everyone, I forgot someone in the "thank the reviewers" list. I will now thank that person specifically: Thank you very, very much Elaine Dawkins!!! (Yes, I forgot my own sister!) She is the one who deserves the most thanks, so I will leave it at that and continue with the story.
Chapter 37: One-Year Anniversary
The months passed surprisingly quickly. Occasionally someone was shot with guilt for not dreading every moment that the Dodger was gone, but the guilt, too, passed. They all were sad, but they knew they had to move on; so move-on they did. Charley and Fagin would tell the children fireside stories about the Artful Dodger's greatest accomplishments. To everyone, he was becoming a hero out of a tale; someone to look-up to and admire. Shy, little Chelsea was even brought into the spotlight as she told the tale of how on the first day of their meeting, the Dodger had taken her hand and led her to the privy. Even Sam and Thaddeus, with their immaturity and misbehavior, began to respect the Dodger; no one dared to put him down.
The seasons flew by, birthdays came and went; life went on. Everyone was surprised when it again reached the day of December 26th; the one-year anniversary of the Dodger's capture.
Charley, Guinevere, Fagin, and Nancy were all sitting around the dining room table. Charley repeatedly shuffling the deck of cards that once belonged to the Dodger, Guinevere staring at Charley's actions. Fagin and Nancy had just finished the usual conversation consisting of money, drinks, and Bill.
Fagin handed her the requested money. He picked up the book that he used to keep track of their money and entered the amount on a page. After doing the math, he stared at the paper for a moment. He turned to Nancy. "What day is it, today, my dear?"
"It's December 26th. How could you forget, Fagin? It's the day after Christmas!"
"I didn't forget, my dear," Fagin sighed and replace the book into the drawer.
Charley mouthed the words, December twenty-sixth… He dropped the cards onto the table and his eyes grew wide. "The Dodger," was all that he could say.
"What?" Nancy asked.
"He's been in jail for a year now. This very day last year he was taken by the traps," Fagin answered.
Nancy nodded.
"Sure 'ould be nice ta' visit 'im…," Guinevere pointed out.
"It's not safe, my dears. Charley had a close one with the traps just last week; we can't risk it, not even under normal circumstances."
"Oh, Fagin," Nancy spoke, "I do wish you'd allow them to go down there just once. I-"
"Nancy, my dear, you know as well as I do that it's not safe! And," he paused, "Bill won't allow Guinevere to go down there (which I think he is right in doing), so why should Charley be allowed? I won't allow them to risk their lives to see someone who probably has forgotten them! Forgotten everything they ever did for him!" Fagin's eyes glowed and bulged wildly. He looked at Nancy, Guinevere, and Charley in turn and then exited the room.
"I think you hit a nerve!" Charley said to Nancy, chuckling slightly.
Guinevere glared at Charley, immediately silencing him, but leaving him with the trace of a smile. "What if Fagin's right, Charley?! What if the Dodger has forgotten us all?!"
Charley sobered. "He hasn't forgotten me! I know he hasn't! Don't even think it!"
"And so you think he forgot me?!" Guinevere asked, her voice growing louder and higher. "I'll have you know that he kissed me before you ever did! That's right! He kissed me! In town! On the job! And it wasn't a short kiss either! And it was really good, too!" She crossed her arms defiantly and stared determinedly in the opposite direction of Charley.
Nancy stared on in fascination. It was her business after all; it concerned her daughter.
"How come you never told me?" Charley asked, gaping at her.
"I didn't think it mattered," Guinevere said shortly.
Charley tried to put the controversial subject aside; he focused on the more important issue. "When I said that he hadn't forgotten me, I simply meant what I said; that he didn't forget me. I didn't mean to imply that he had forgotten you or Fagin or anybody else."
"I know what you meant," Guinevere said simply continuing to stare in the opposite direction.
"Alright then…," Nancy broke in, "Guinevere, we need to be heading back; Bill's waiting."
Charley got up and lit a candle in preparation for leading them down the stairs. Nancy and Guinevere put on their coats and hats before allowing themselves to be guided to the door.
Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Guinevere turned to Charley and gave him a short kiss on the cheek.
"'Bye!" Charley addressed them both.
"Goodbye!" Nancy and Guinevere said in unison.
Charley watched them walk off for a minute before closing the door.
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Jack and Jem were playing cards in their cell. Jem, who was becoming very skilled at poker under the Dodger's careful instruction, had nearly beat the Dodger in the previous game. Each game became more and more intense; the guards had slowly been gathered around their cell as the game progressed.
Jem laid his cards down on the makeshift table with a grin on his face. "Straight flush!"
Jack slapped his cards face-up onto the table, displaying his hand (four of a kind), before looking up to grin proudly at Jem. "See," he spoke to the cheering guards as he pointed at Jem, "I taught 'im that!" He beamed proudly back at Jem. "Now," the Dodger took on an elegant seriousness, "I'm gonna kick your behind in this game!"
"Ooooo!" Jem said tauntingly. He yawned ostentatiously. "I just might be too tired!"
"Oh, no you're not!" The Dodger shuffled the cards playfully, working in a few card tricks as he did so.
The game went on much in the same way the previous one had; there was joking, bluffing, cheating, and laughing.
"I'll raise ya' two pounds…" Dodger said slowly flicking the chips into the pile accumulating at the center of the makeshift table.
Jem stared for a moment, shuffled his cards uneasily in his hand, and then made a "play" that was completely unexpected – he threw up.
Jack stared at him in shock and concern. The guards looked nervously at them before scurrying off to the ordinary posts.
"What-" Jack started to ask.
"I'm sorry!" Jem interrupted, wiping his mouth on his handkerchief. "I skittled my biscuits! Didn't expect that, really… umm… I'll clean it up then." He turned around looking for the proper accoutrements.
Jack, still in shock, walked over towards the cell door to request some help when he heard a thud behind him. Turning back to face Jem, he found that his companion was lying on the ground, passed out, with sweat beading up on his forehead.
That last part was kind of gross… sorry! As Jem said, he didn't mean to "skittle" his "biscuits". You'll have to excuse this rather gross part because it is IMPORTANT to the story! Now, REVIEW (that is, if you are feeling better than Jem right now).