"The One with the Award"

Monica Bing flew down the halls, rapping on doors and walls as she passed. "Get up!" she cried happily. "Come on everybody! Wake up! Back to school in two weeks, and we've got to do some last-minute preparation!"

"No!" came the muffled shout from the room at the end of the hall.

Monica shook her head, smiling. "Not you, Chandler. The kids!"

There was a pause before her husband, Chandler (Muriel…shh!) Bing said, "Alright then." Monica giggled and continued to run the hallway and knock on doors.

"Get up get up getupgetupgetup—"

"ALRIGHT!" Chandler emerged from the master bedroom, his hair disheveled, his clothes rumpled, and with his usual dry wit. He walked passed Monica and headed down to the kitchen, ruffling her hair as he went.

"Okay, I'm coming in!" Monica shouted through the door of her daughter's bedroom. She rolled up her sleeves, hopped a few times on the spot, then ran at the door.

A sleepy Erica opened the door at the same time. She yawned and rubbed her eyes while Monica desperately tried to regain her balance – and fell anyway.

"Umm…it was unlocked, you know," Erica said. "Coffee, anyone?"


Rachel Geller-Green squeezed her husband's hand nervously. She watched as their daughter, sixteen-year-old Emma, calmly sat on the stage while the judges looked over the final results.

A high squeak from beside her caught her attention. Rachel quickly released Ross's hand and crossed her arms. "Sorry," she muttered.

"It's okay," Ross replied. It sounded like he was ready to cry.

"I'm just…I'm so nervous! And look how calm Emma looks, and she's the one up there!"

Ross patted her knee affectionately. "Don't worry so much," he said. "She'll win. I mean, she's really artistic."

"But Ross, those other finalists are really…preppy! God, and such sluts!"

An elderly woman sitting in front of them turned around to face Rachel. She didn't look too amused. "The blonde one," she said coldly, "is my granddaughter."

"Oh…well, I didn't mean her!" Rachel said quickly. She cleared her throat and stared up at Emma, determined not to look at anyone else.

But it was true. Emma, while she had her circle of close friends, was not one of the more popular girls at school. She had the looks and talents for it, but she enjoyed her studies and her "alone time". Much like Ross had in school, though she was not obsessing over a boy like Ross had obsessed over Rachel. She was actually quite shy in large crowds and rejected a lot of the guys who dared to ask her on a date.

"The judges have made their decision," the MC said. "The second runner up, with the 2000 gift certificate to any fashion outlet of their choice is…Carrie Knoll! Congratulations, Carrie! Now, the first runner up – who receives a trip to Paris for a full week – is…Emma Geller-Green!"

Rachel and Ross stood up and applauded as loudly as they could. Emma smiled and stared at them pointedly to sit.

"And the winner of the Design-The-Dress contest, with the 2500 Scholarship to any post-secondary fashion school of their choice, is…Diana Nicholson! Congratulations, Diana! Congratulations too to the runners up, and to all the finalists!"


"Wow, I can't believe I'm going to Paris! This is so amazing!" Emma stared at her plane tickets in awe. "This is so much better than winning the scholarship and the shopping spree."

"Really?" Rachel asked, turning around to face her daughter.

"Oh yeah. My major definitely won't be fashion designing – it won't be paleontology either, Dad – and I can't be in a mall for over an hour. And I always wanted to travel, so this will be like…wow!"

"So when is your flight?"

"Three days from now. I know it's short-notice, but Monica can get me packed quickly."

"True…what time?"

"I have to be at the airport by seven a.m."

"That's early."

"It's international."

"True. So who's coming with you?"

Emma hesitated. "Umm…pardon?"

"Well, am I coming, or is Ross?"

"There's only one ticket," Emma replied quickly. "I'm supposed to meet my guide at the gate. She'll show me everything. And she's my interpreter. So I don't have to learn any French. Yay!"

There was a long silence. "Huh," Ross said at last. "So you're…you're going to France alone. And not just France. You're going to Paris alone."

Emma said nothing. She had a sinking feeling that she would not be going to Paris at all.

"That's like…a big step in maturity."

"Dad, I'm going into grade twelve. I have my own credit card. Three of them!"

"Yes, but…Emma, it's Paris."

"The Fashion Capital—"

"The City of Romance!"

"Oh my god!" Emma snapped. "You're worried about cute French boys who know three words in English and who say them in a sexy accent? Don't you trust me? I can take care of myself! Besides, I'm like you were in high school."

Ross laughed nervously. "How-how was I in high school?"

Rachel stifled her laugh and hastily turned it into a cough. Ross blinked several times, trying to keep his eyes on the road while glaring at his wife at the same time.

"Well…apparently there was a band uniform…and teeny shorts."

Ross didn't reply, and for the rest of the trip home he pretended to ignore them.


Phoebe Buffay-Hannigan sat on her couch, drinking her seventh cup of coffee that day and watching TV. Mike and Lynn had been on a fishing trip all weekend and were due back today. Phoebe had woken at eleven a.m., had her first cup of coffee, and waited for them to burst through the door. And for every hour that they were late she'd had another cup.

Her phone rang loudly and she jumped. "Oh, mother of…ow!" she said, staring at the fresh coffee stain on her yellow blouse. "Nice." She leaned across the couch and pressed the speaker button on the phone. "Yeah?" she said.

"Phoebe?"

"Mike! Oh, yay! Where the hell are you?"

"We're just heading out now. We should be home in three hours."

"What? No! Why are you so late?"

"Hello?"

"Lynn? What happened to Mike?"

"He got scared and gave me the phone. Listen, there was a bear outside our cabin and we couldn't leave. He just left."

"Oh my god! Are you alright?"

"Yeah…" Lynn laughed over the phone. "Yeah, we're fine. We didn't even have to hurt Clarence."

"Clarence?"

"I named the bear. That's a good name, right?"

"It's fine!"

"Oh, yay! Anyway, we've got to go. See you later! Bye!"

Phoebe, smiling, said her goodbye and poured herself more coffee.


And then there's Joey, over at the Bing household, teaching Jack the more important things of life.

"No, you're saying it wrong! You've got to make your voice deeper, and you have to look her up and down before you say it! Like this: Hey. How you doin'?"

"Joey, I don't think I need this." Jack smiled appreciatively and made to leave the living room, but Joey stood in his way.

"Don't need it? Listen, Jackie-Boy, you've got the looks and the talent to play sports and all…but you need the charm! You got it, but you abuse it. I don't have any kids of my own, and you're my only nephew, so I gotta learn you all I know."

"Learn me?"

Joey grinned. "It means teach you."

Jack blinked very slowly. "Alright."

"Great!" Joey clapped his hands together. "Now let's try it again."

"JACK!"

"Oh, no."

A very angry Erica stomped into the room, tightly clutching a skirt. "Jack, this was my favorite skirt!"

"…And?"

"And LOOK!" Erica pointed to the singed edges. "What were you trying to do?"

Joey cleared his throat, mumbled something, and quickly left the room. Jack watched him leave, hoping that it would distract Erica.

No such luck.

"Well? What were you doing?"

"I was trying to cook!" Jack said. "I wore it as an apron, and it burnt! I didn't know it was a skirt!"

"Oh, so you just decided to wear a very pink and purple flowery 'apron'? What were you thinking?"

Jack gulped and laughed nervously. "Well," he began, very slowly. "Well, I thought it would be nice if you and mom could relax…and I could cook supper once…and I was so upset when I couldn't cook right."

"Jack, you were making a grilled cheese sandwich."

"How did you know that!"

"The cheese on the tag. And you've gone supersonic again."

He hated it when that happened. His voice would go all high and squeaky and…Monica.

"Alright. I'm sorry. I'll buy you a new skirt."

"You bet your ass you will!"

He laughed. "Yeah, right. I was bluffing!"

Erica threw the skirt at his head. "If you don't buy me a skirt just like that, I'll tell Mom and Dad about how you went to third base with Johanna Muller last weekend when they were gone!"

"Oh yeah? Well, I'll tell them about how you made out with her older brother the weekend before that!"

"Call it even?"

"Okay!"


Three days later/At the airport

"I can't believe you're going to Paris!" Erica said, giving Emma a tight hug. "Phone me everyday! And do me a favor."

"Anything."

"Hook up with a hot French guy."

"Erica! I'm not like that!" Emma gasped, though she was grinning at the same time. "Fine, I'll try."

"Oh, yay! Alright, see you in a week."

Emma gave everyone else their hugs and kisses. "I'll call as soon as I land," she promised. "And when I get to the hotel. Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

"Promise me you won't have sex," Ross said. Emma felt her jaw plummet to the floor.

"Excuse me, Father?"

"Well, it's—"

"ROSS!" Rachel hissed, stomping on his foot. "Have fun, Emma!"

"Okay, Mom." She waved goodbye one last time and headed toward the plane. She didn't have a first class ticket, but that was alright. She always slept on planes anyway.

In fact, she slept right through the flight – and her stop. When she woke, she knew right away that she wasn't in Paris. Especially when she heard the accent of the stewardess who helped her off the plane. And the people were dressed totally different than they should have dressed in Paris.

"Oh, my god." She stood in the middle of the crowded baggage claim, wanting to scream. "Phones!" she cried, seeing them by the washrooms.

"Finally!" Rachel said. "I hope that's Emma!" She hurriedly picked up the phone. "Hello? Hello?"

"Mom?"

"Emma, thank god! Why didn't you call when you got off?"

"Because I…I just got off the plane."

"I thought it was a straight-through trip."

"Well, for me. Paris was the first stop, and I…I slept through it."

Rachel slowly sat down on the couch. Ross looked up from the paper questioningly. "Is it Emma?" he asked.

Rachel didn't answer him. "So…so where are you?"

"I think I'm in Australia."


A/N: Oh my god. PITIFUL chapter on my part. It was rushed and really, really the worst opening chapter I have EVER WRITTEN. The rest will be better, I promise. I wanted to introduce the characters a bit more, and just give background information to the next few…episodes. I also wanted you to sort of see the relationships between the characters, WHICH WILL DEVELOP AS THE CHAPTERS INCREASE IN QUALITY, I SWEAR TO GOD. Please, I already know how poorly written this chapter is. So if you review make it somewhat positive. Like, "Oh my god, Emma's in Australia! What will she do?"