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The first snowfall came on November eleventh. It was white and beautiful, even if it didn't last long, and it definitely didn't stick. It was almost time to pull out the winter clothes and Christmas party dresses. I don't know what it is about faculty parties, but even though they are full of stuffy academics who have nothing else to talk about except their curriculum and particular areas of expertise, there's still something nice about them. Maybe it's because they're not about school and classes and what have you; they're about these people coming together to celebrate the fact that we're all...just here. And you can pretend for a moment that everyone is okay with each other.

Funny how we can't act like that the rest of the year.

Funnier yet is how after 1967 was rung in, I no longer had to pretend that I liked Two-Bit Mathews. It was one hundred percent real, and maybe it had been for a while. Maybe we had been pretending that we didn't, just to keep up appearances, but I have a suspicion there was something in those notes, those back-and-forths in class that belied the mutual dislike we were trying to prove was still there.

But I'm getting ahead of myself again.

I was leaving the lunchroom one day, headed towards my locker, when Two-Bit sidled up next to me. "I have a favor to ask of you," he mumbled around his smoke. I glanced around, then back at him. He looked very tired. There were obvious bags under his eyes, swollen and purple. And I could detect the faint smell of liquor on him, but I had heard it wasn't unusual for him to go on a bender every now and then.

"What sort of favor?" I asked, voice low.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I was hoping you could meet me after school."

My eyes bulged. "To do what?"

"I got somethin' to give you."

I rolled my eyes. "A little early for Christmas presents, don't you think?"

"That may be so, Miz Bee, but better early than never, amiright?"

"You are," I shrugged, allowing it.

"So…meet me, then. I'll be here in the school parking lot at seven. Think you can be there?"

I thought about it, but I didn't have to think long. This was serious; his eyes told me so. "I guess I could be," I said.

"Good deal. See ya then."

And then he quickened his pace, separating himself from me.

And that's when I remembered that I had made plans with Jerry that night.

Dammit.

I spent the rest of the school day in a daze, trying to figure out how to explain to Jerry that I wouldn't be able to make it. What would I tell him? Something suddenly came up? That Two-Bit Mathews had to give me something? I eventually decided I could play the Dad card, tell him that I had to go to a university function with him. Yeah. That'd probably fly real well. It was plausible; I mean, my dad wasn't about to go to one of those things alone, no. He had dragged me to a million functions and conferences before.

I was walking from drama to study hall when I saw Jerry talking to Randy and another one of their football buddies. I saw my chance and took it, running up to him and wrapping my arm through his.

"Hey, Bridget," he grinned. I beamed back.

"Hey, Jerry. So, about tonight..."

xXx

I arrived at the school parking lot at six fifty-five, the sun already going down and the air cooling off. And there was Two-Bit, sitting on the steps of the back entrance, smoking a cigarette and playing with his lighter. I parked and stepped out of the T-Bird, walking quickly towards him.

"Hey."

Two-Bit looked up and flicked his lighter shut. He took a drag off his cigarette. "Well, hey. I thought you was never gonna show up."

I shook my head. Even from my distance, I could smell the overwhelming aroma of beer and cheap cologne that seemed to stick to Two-Bit all the time. It's a scent etched into the back of my mind, and I could recognize it anywhere. "So," I began, "what did you want to see me about? What'd you want to give me?"

Two-Bit smiled and reached into his pocket, producing a piece of paper that had been folded over a couple times and carefully pressing it into my hand. "Buck Merrill – rodeo guy – had us clean out the room he was renting to Dallas, and when Steve, Soda, and I were goin' through it, we found that. Ain't sure why, but it was there, and your name and Vickie Harper's is on it. I dunno what it's about. But you're friends with her, ain't you?"

"Um…yeah." I wondered what in the world a piece of paper with mine and Vickie's names on it would be doing in Dallas Winston's old room. "Thanks, Two-Bit," I said, but I didn't know how grateful I was. Confused was more like it. But what's new.

"No problem."

Two-Bit took another drag on his cigarette and coughed lightly as he exhaled. He just stared at the ground, scuffing his boots against the pavement. The snow swirled around a nearby streetlight, sparkling lightly. The flakes fell to the ground, and my eyes followed them.

"You okay?" I asked.

"I will be." He coughed again. I heard him flick open his lighter, and then he flicked it shut once more. "Too many fuckin' smokes."

"Maybe you're sick," I suggested, but he dismissed the thought.

"Nah, I ain't."

"But what if you are?" I asked, trying to make it clear that I was teasing. "I mean, what if you get pneumonia or something because you ignored it? Be a darn shame if that happened."

"Well, sure. But I ain't gonna get pneumonia."

I sighed. "Guess we'll see about that." And I could have sworn there was a ghost of a smile on Two-Bit's face. But, sick or not, there was clearly something off about him. He had seemed okay, considering the circumstances, but now it was like he had taken a turn for the worse.

It suddenly felt very cold. I was stupid for coming without a jacket. I thought I would just drive out, meet with Two-Bit briefly, and drive home. But no, I had stepped out of the car, and we were having a conversation. I rubbed my arms in an attempt to keep warm.

"Why didn't you bring a coat?" Two-Bit asked.

"I thought this would go faster."

Two-Bit laughed. "Not with me, sweetheart. I can run my mouth like nobody's business. I thought you knew that. Here," Two-Bit shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to me. "You'll catch your death."

I fingered the black leather jacket. It was rough and it smelled exactly like Two-Bit: Cologne, beer, and cigarettes. And it was the best thing in the world just then. But I couldn't let him do that and tried to hand the jacket back.

"Hey-hey-hey! Don't even think about it. I don't need it," Two-Bit scolded.

I took a step back and shrugged the jacket on, letting Two-Bit's essence envelope me. He smiled smugly. "You're quite the gentleman, Two-Bit," I whispered bitterly, and he was. Rides home, giving a girl his jacket…he was a regular Clark Gable. That was the kicker.

He smiled and fingered the bottom of his T-shirt, pretending to be bashful. "Yeah, that's what my mother tells me."

I stared at him with my mouth open. I tried to keep the smile off my face. I really did. But it just happened. It wasn't even the funniest thing I had heard him say, but there was just something about that stupid smile on his face and the way he was watching me with those eyes that got me to break. I didn't even laugh, but I guess the smile was enough for him.

"You're a hard one to crack, Miz Bee," he teased.

"No, I'm not," I insisted.

Now, I guess that was funny because he laughed harder. I tried so hard not to laugh with him, but I couldn't help it. There was really no reason for us to be this happy, except maybe the fact that I acted like I had a stick up my ass all the time, and we were both just relieved to know that it was possible for me to yank it out sometimes.

"Can I…can I ask you a stupid question?"

"Anytime you want, Peach."

I shifted on my feet and couldn't look him in the eye when I asked, "Do you think...well. Do you think…that I'm…well, does it seem like I'm a happy person?" My tone was very serious. I wanted a real answer.

Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. "Uh. Yeah, I think so, sure."

"Oh. I just thought...I dunno."

He sighed. "Bridget?"

I was surprised at him using my real name. It's always a little strange when he isn't calling me one of his million stupid nicknames. "Yes?"

Two-Bit watched me carefully. "Listen – happy is good, kid. Happy people ain't posers, they just got more perspective than your average bear."

"I know that, that's not – "

"Just keep that in mind," he interrupted, leaning in, "next time you think you can't be happy. It ain't a sin. Christ knows I could use some of it right now, but..."

I nodded and didn't let him finish the thought. I didn't think I could bear to hear what he said next. His sadness was already palpable. "I'll keep it in mind."

And then came another one of our little staring contests. I wanted him to say something that assured me he was okay because for some reason I was very concerned for his well-being. "Good," he said after a beat. Then he tapped the note. "Be sure to read that for me."

"I will. I should probably be getting home now."

"Yeah. You should."

"Yeah," I drawled, shrugging off his jacket. Two-Bit put his hand up.

"No. No. Keep it for now. I'll be good."

xXx

When I got home, I sat at my vanity and carefully opened the little scrap of paper, smoothing it out and reading Dallas Winston's chicken scratch.

Bee Stevens & Vickie Harper know each other. Here's to hoping Vickie won't tell that big mouth about what happened – god knows she'd spill the whole damn thing.

Oh, no. Whatever this was, it couldn't be good.

xXx

"Hey. Stevens."

I looked up and saw Evie staring at me intently. The bell had just rung to end third period, and Evie hadn't spoken to me in months. Just gave me dirty looks in the halls as she passed by with her group of friends, which had shrunk down from four members to three. The news about Sandy Baxter's pregnancy had gotten lost in the whirlwind of deaths, but I figured it must be hard to have a friend go through that and for them to be sent off. Who knew when Evie would see her again, if ever.

"Yes?"

She pulled something from her blouse. "This is from Mathews. He asked me to give it to you." She narrowed her eyes. "I don't even want to know what the two of you are getting into."

I wanted to tell her that we weren't getting into anything, but I knew she didn't really care. I was more focused on the fact that she was acting as messenger; that Two-Bit wanted to say something to me but hadn't just told me so in history. I opened the note and read it.

Bridget -

Meet me again in the parking lot. Seven.

- Two-Bit

I crumpled it up in my hand and gave her a wan smile. "Thank you, Evie. And don't worry – it's nothing."

xXx

I barreled home after school. I needed to get started on my homework so I wouldn't have too much to do after meeting Two-Bit because I figured we might end up talking for a while again. I flung the front door open and ran inside the house, but my father poked his head out from his study.

"Bridget!"

I paused on the staircase. "Yeah, Daddy?"

He came out of the study with a smile on his face. "How was school?"

Seriously? Small talk? "Um. Fine. It was fine."

"Good. I just got off the phone with your grandparents. How would you feel about going to visit them for Thanksgiving?"

Nothing sounded better, truly, but Thanksgiving was the furthest thing from my mind. "Sounds great," I said.

He raised his eyebrows. "That's all? I thought you might give me a little more than that."

"Dad," I sighed, exasperated, "it really is great. It's just been a long day, and I have homework, and then I need to meet Missy at her house for a project at seven. Can I?" That last part was a lie, of course, but it would get him to lend me the car so I could meet up with Two-Bit.

My father looked absolutely caught off-guard by how brusque I was being, but he nodded, and I was free to escape to my room. I felt bad, sure, but I really couldn't think about my grandparents and going back to New York when I had problems here in Oklahoma. I could barely focus on my homework as I wondered what the note could be referring to, and why I hadn't just read it with Two-Bit the last time we had met. But maybe he was looking into some theories of his own, of which I had none. I couldn't come up with a single idea, had no clue what Dallas and Vickie would want to keep from me – or why the hell Dallas Winston had been concerned with Vickie in the first place.

As I got ready to leave and rummaged through my closet for a coat, I came across a black leather jacket sitting on the floor.

Right.

I still had that.

Which was perfect, because then I could wear it there and give it back. It wasn't mine, it was his, and he needed it. I had a million coats, I didn't need another one, no matter that it was – well. I'm not going to finish that thought. So, I threw it on over a sweater and drove off towards the school, note in my pocket.

And there again was Two-Bit, sitting on the steps in a brown leather jacket and a bottle of some sorts in his hand.

"Oh my god, Two-Bit."

"Don't say a damn word," he cut in, his voice dry. "Not a damn word."

I slumped down next to him on the steps. Someone was pissed. "The hell is wrong with you?" I blurted.

He laughed, but nothing was funny. "I dunno, Bridget. I dunno." He smeared a hand down the side of his face, looking more tired just then than I had ever seen him. "All I know is that I'm sick of people askin' me if I'm okay, and if I'm feeling down about Johnny and Dallas dyin'." He shook his head. "'Cuz ya know what? All they're gonna find out is that I'm not okay, and I am down about my friends dying. Because they're fucking dead."

I didn't know what to say. He looked so miserable about it all, and before I could think, I was saying, "Two-Bit, please, please don't start crying." Like I wouldn't be able to handle it. And maybe I wouldn't have been able to – it would just be too weird to see a big tough guy like him start bawling. But as soon as I said it, I blushed, and he – of course – laughed at me. I put my hands up to my face to try to hide the redness, but it was no use.

"You're a funny girl, Bee," he chuckled.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."

He cleared his throat. "But not funny like me. I'm ha-ha funny. You're the weird kinda funny."

I shook my head. "Yeah. You're…you're an idiot, Two-Bit."

"An idiot that makes you laugh. I mean, does Jerry Thompson make you laugh?"

He eyed me, and the thing is – no. Jerry wasn't one for one-liners and stupid jokes, so no, he didn't make me laugh. Two-Bit was annoying, but he was funny. But I wasn't about to tell Two-Bit that. Didn't need to feed his ego. "Yeah, I guess you do."

"Well, good. I like makin' you laugh." And he seemed to mean that.

"Well – you're easy to laugh at."

"I could say the same thing about you, ya know."

"I know." I pursed my lips. "You're not okay. Are you?" I whispered.

He shook his head. "No, I'm not. I'm really not. I mean, Christ, how could I be?"

I don't even know why I bothered asking.

"Prolly just gonna get trashed tonight. God, why am I telling you this? I shouldn't be telling you this."

I didn't know either, so I just changed the subject. I wasn't about to tell him how to cope with his losses. "I read the note," I said.

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "I have no idea what it could be referring to. I had no idea Vickie even knew him. Did you?" He did not. "Well, any theories?"

Two-Bit shook his head. There were more holes in this mystery than Swiss cheese. "Not a clue. Guess we're gonna have to investigate."

"Sounds like a plan." I smiled at him, and he smiled back. I looked away, a bit embarrassed about what I was about to say. I nudged him with my shoulder. "Look, Two-Bit. Lemme take you home. If you'd like. I really don't mind," I insisted, annoyingly polite.

"Now why would I let you do that?"

I shrugged. "You deserve a break. After...everything." Which was an understatement.

I expected him to say no, pull his man card and say he would never let a girl drive him home, but he patted my shoulder and smiled. "I love this change in attitude you've had towards me, Bee Stevens. Sounds like a plan, Peach."

We made our way to the car, not saying anything to each other, except when I told him that I insisted I drove. He let me, but I could hear him grumbling.

"Guys are s'posed to drive," he told me as we drove. So he did have an issue with this. "I'm s'posed to give you my jacket, open your door for you, then make small talk as we drive. The gal ain't s'posed to drive."

"That's too bad then," I shrugged, enjoying this. "Because you aren't in any condition to be driving. What, you think I'm gonna let you drive when you've been drinking? Besides, I figure I owe you a ride or two."

He ran his hand across the dash. "I ain't ever been in a car this nice. This your car?" He asked.

"My father's," I said simply. Then we were quiet again, the only sound being Two-Bit giving me directions, the absence of sound surrounding us.

"Which one's yours?" I asked as we came to his street.

"This'un right here," Two-Bit slurred. I stopped in front of his house. It was right down the street from the Curtis house.

Then I remembered.

"I'm wearing your jacket."

"So you are."

"I'd like to give it back." I slipped out of his jacket and handed it to him. He stared at it like he had never seen it before.

"Thanks, Bee."

"Don't mention it."

Thanks for reading!