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O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Spinning for Hours

-O-

by Sir Mocha

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

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Chapter 12: To The Rescue!

"Hey, Lisa! You feeling better?" asked a concerned Lee, as soon as I walked into the classroom.

"Yeah, loads. Thanks!" I replied, dropping a huge stack of books on the table.

"Well, that's a relief! We need our fearless leader in top physical condition if we want to win this thing!" remarked Martin.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I replied a little guiltily. "I promise that today, I'll be absolutely focused on studying! I won't let any migraine distract me."

"That's good to know," said Anna, picking up one of the books and flipping through it.

Well, my little reunion with Bart had indeed left me with a raging headache the next morning. Pair that with the exhaustion after only three hours of sleep, and you can see why I was not particularly focused yesterday when we began the big study-a-thon for the Knowledge Bowl. I had managed to organize our study topics, but the information I managed to absorb was not nearly adequate for a whole day of studying.

"Well, even if you weren't feeling so well yesterday, it looks like you still managed to get a whole lot of information," remarked Ralph, who was flipping through one book.

"Yeah. I went to the library yesterday, and got this stack of books. There are books on world history, as well as ones on individual regions, too. They ought to be pretty useful; I looked through all of them."

"Well we all appreciate the hard work, Lisa," said Lee.

I felt another squirm of guilt. The truth was, getting the books had been the only thing I'd done the previous day outside of school. After spending half an hour in the library, I had gone home and crashed on the couch until dinner time, and then after eating, I went to check on Bart, wasted two hours online, and then went to bed. I had done no studying, with the excuse to myself that I still had all of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to thoroughly learn my topic.

"I know how eager we all are to begin learning, people," I said sarcastically, addressing my group, "but before we begin, I think we should just review what each of us is specifically studying, to make sure there's no confusion, and no repetitive studying. Eoh and I are studying North American History, which will be the most heavily emphasized. Eoh, you are doing…"

"Through the Civil War," he replied without missing a beat.

"Yes. And I am doing post-Civil War," I finished. "Lee, you are…"

"Asian history," he said, holding up a book with kimono on the front cover.

"Yeah. And Martin…"

"African. Though there aren't going to be many questions on that," he said.

"Be that as it may, Africa is a big place, and there is still lots of information you need to learn, especially since we haven't really cover African history in school."

"Yeah," said Anna. "South America won't have many questions either, but we haven't learned much about its history in school. Still, it's not as much as most of the rest of you have to learn."

"Yeah," I agreed, "but don't forget that you have Central America too, which, especially in the last century, had a lot of important ties to American history. There are bound to be questions on that, so you need to learn that too."

"Ok," I said, turning to Akila. "You and Ralph have European history, which is huge. Do you two have it worked out, who's going to study what?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I'm doing Eastern Europe, which included the old Soviet Union. Ralph is doing Western Europe."

I turned to Ralph. "Western European history is a huge subject. Do you need help? Martin could help you with that."

He looked at me, offended. "What, you think I can't handle it? European history is an integral part of secondary school history. We've learned European history so much, I think I could do it without studying. Not that I would do such a thing," he amended, when he saw the horror in the group's eyes. "I'll study for this thing, and I'll win it, all for you, Lisa!"

The other freshmen though he was joking, but I was a bit worried that he might actually be serious. I certainly didn't want to go back to dating Ralph Wiggum, whether he was smarter or not. I had my eyes on other guys…

I glanced quickly across the room, to the bookshelves by the fireplace. The sophomores were studying works of literature throughout the ages, from Homer through Tolkien. I didn't know which subject was harder, World History or Literature.

Theo was bent over a large volume of Shakespeare's plays, absentmindedly chewing on a pencil in adorable concentration. My mind began to wander, as I imagined myself as Juliet, and Theo as Romeo. I could almost see myself, sitting on my balcony while Theo expressed his deep and profound love. As he compared my eyes to the stars…

I physically shook myself, trying to get such lurid, sentimental, and very much clichéd thoughts from my head. As much as I wanted to fantasize, I was conscious of the fact that I had already wasted an entire day, and was behind in my studying. After the competition, I would allow myself to daydream…

"Ok," I said, "since you all know your individual categories, I guess it's time to get to work." I sat down, and pulled a thick and dusty volume to me. Ok, brain, I thought, it's time for us to get learning. You need to absorb as much info as you can!

I sat there for a good two hours, trying to soak up the info into the sponge of my brain. After working my way through Reconstruction, I was more than thankful for the 10 minute break from studying. At this time, I would usually be in gym (one of my required classes, and one that I attended with non-Corvid students). Mrs. Finch had convinced my gym teacher, a surly, middle aged, unsympathetic Neanderthal of a woman, that it was imperative I miss class. I have to say, I much preferred studying over having volleyballs and soccer balls flying at me at high velocity.

I got up and stretched, then walked over to Anna, who was also working out the kinks in her spine. I asked, teasingly, "How are the thrills of Central America?"

She rolled her eyes. "I think that if I have to read any more about the Cuban Missile Crisis, I'm going to go crazy."

"I know how you feel," I replied. "I can't focus. I don't know how much of the material I'm actually learning learning. It's in my brain for a while, and then gets pushed out again when I learn new stuff."

She frowned at me. "That's not good, Lisa. You really need to be learning this stuff. It's important; American history is the hardest subject, and you really need to know you stuff well if we want to win."

I was a bit taken aback at the admonishment. Anna was usually quite lax about schoolwork, and normally she would not have cared how much of the material I was actually absorbing. It seemed that the madness had gotten to her, too. Scary.

"Don't worry," I responded. "I'll learn the stuff. I won't let the team down. I'll be a good captain."

"That's all we ask for," she said cheerfully, then left to talk to Lee.

Martin, sitting across the table, rolled his eyes at her, and then said to me, "What was her problem? It's just a dumb contest. There's no need for her to get so serious."

I just shrugged my shoulders, and said, "Evidently, we're the only two who don't really care about this competition. I'll try my hardest, for their sakes, but I really don't like the way they've all gotten so serious about the whole thing."

"Amen to that," he laughed. Then Mrs. Finch announced that it was time to get back to work, so I sullenly made my way back to my seat, picked up a text book, and began to learn about the thrills of the early 1900s.

-O-

"…and you should have seen the cops! They came by yesterday night with a warrant to search the house, on the premises that I was stashing 'illegal firearms' in the basement! I'm pretty sure they were looking for you, Bart, but since I knew you were safe, I let them in. I wasn't worried at all: those bumbling cops never find what they're looking for, even if it's right under their noses! You should have seen them: they went through every room, but they couldn't even manage to find Homer's library of porn magazines, or the boxes and boxes of drug paraphernalia that he collected back in the 70s. Then Chief Wiggum got his head stuck in the banister, and had to be buttered and greased before he got free. They left a fruit basket as a 'We're Sorry' present."

"Ah," he replied, "so that's why you're letting me back in the house again."

"C'mon," I retorted, "it's not that bad living in the Flanders' basement!"

"I beg to differ, dear Lisa. The furniture may be comfortable, the décor may be fancy, and the food may be good, but the entire house reeks of the Flanders. They have a particular pious odor that hangs about them, and, for a damned soul like me, it drives me crazy."

"Oh, Bart," I lamented. "I feel for you! Knowing what you must suffer through leaves me feeling bitter pangs of sorrow!"

He raised one eyebrow, and I said, dryly, "It's sarcasm."

"Whatever," he replied. "Do you know what's on TV tonight?"

"Well, there's that new reality TV show about these people who have to develop romantic relationships with each other. At the end of each episode, all the singles are thrown in the ocean with boulders tied to their feet. In addition, the contestants have been robbed of their senses of sight, hearing, and touch, and what they don't know is that the island they're living on is populated by malnourished cannibals."

"That's boring. There have been too many shows like that already. And anyway," he added, "don't you have some studying to do?"

"Noooo!" I wailed. "I spent hours studying today! I refuse to do any more!"

Just then, the telephone rang. As I went to answer it, I heard theme song of 'Eat Me Up' playing. Humming along, I picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?"

"Lisa?"

"Yes, this is Lisa. Who is this?" I asked. I couldn't recognise the weak-sounding voice at the other end of the line.

"This is Tommy…please, Lisa, I…I n-need your help."

My heart skipped a beat. This was Tommy? Tommy, who was usually so loud and confident? Tommy never stuttered, and he never asked for help. Something was seriously wrong.

"Tommy?! What happened?" I asked, my stomach fluttering.

"I'm…I'm up in S-Scarletville…"

"Scarletville?" I asked. "Tommy, that's three hundred miles away! What are you doing in Scarletville, of all places?" Scarletville was a large city two states away, infamous for its high crime rate and high levels of violence.

"I…I had a job…but p-please, Lisa, I n-need your help!"

My throat was strangely choked, and I could barely get the words out. "What happened, Tommy? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"

"Lisa, j-just… please, help me."

"Tommy!" I said desperately. "You are hundreds of miles away! Can't you just call the police?"

"NO!" he said adamantly. "If I call them, they'll figure out who I am, and they'll send me back to Ned! And when they do that, he'll KILL me! I'm his 'devil child'! I CAN'T go back!"

"It's BETTER than being DEAD!" I yelled back, without thinking. The minute it was out, I wish I hadn't said it. It was like some ominous prediction, and I refused to believe that Tommy was in mortal danger.

"Lisa, you're the only one I trust. You're the only one I believe in. You're the only one who can help me."

He was so goddammed manipulative! After hearing that, how could I do anything else but help him? And I told him as much. He gave a feeble chuckle, but it turned to a hacking cough. He sounded awful, and unless I was very much mistaken, he was in serious, serious trouble.

With tears welling in my eyes, I made a very abrupt decision. "Shit, Tommy, I'll be down there as fast as I can. Just try to stay out of trouble until then, please. Where will I be able to find you?"

He took a deep, wheezing breath, and said, "Th-there's a pub called The Brass Monkey. I'm at a convenience store next to it, and after I'm done with this call, I-I'll probably go hide behind the d-dumpster next to this store."

"A dumpster?" I shrieked. "Tommy, where have you been living?!"

"Please, Lisa, just get here! I'll explain everything when I see you."

"You bastard, you're the only one I'd do this for."

"I know," he said hoarsely. "And I love you for it."

Tears began to roll down my cheeks. "Dammit, just be careful. I want to see you in one piece!"

"Don't worry, I'll be fine until then."

"You better be, or else," I said, and hung up.

"What the HELL was that all about?" asked Bart. He had turned the TV off, and was looking at me, concerned.

I sniffed. "Tommy is in really bad trouble, and I promised that I would help him." I wiped my eyes, then said, "but Bart, he's in Scarletville! How am I supposed to get there, at 9 o'clock at night?!" I started to cry in earnest, even though I knew that I looked weak and silly in front of Bart.

"It'll be ok, Lis," he said, patting my back. "I'll help you get to Scarletville."

"Bart, you're hiding from the police, remember? You can't help me! And even if that wasn't a problem, we have no car, and you have no driver's license."

"Lisa, Lisa, Lisa," he said, shaking his head. "You don't spend three years in juvie without learning how to hot-wire a car. Marge's is still in the garage, right? We can take that. Just give me a second, and I'll have that baby running."

While he was out in the garage, I managed to regain composure. I got a road map, a first-aid kit (though I wondered how useful that would be), some money, and a blanket and some of Bart's clothes, in case Tommy needed them. I was not going to go all the way to Scarletville without being adequately prepared for the worst.

I heard the engine roar to life, and I smiled. Of course Bart would know how to hot-wire a car. Some things hadn't changed over the years. And it truly touched me, that he was willing to avoid getting re-arrested to help me. I walked out into the garage with the supplies, and put them in the car. But before I got in the car, I hugged Bart tightly.

"What's that for?" he asked suspiciously.

"For being such a good brother!" I replied, and then burst into tears again.

"Ah, I see," he said uncomfortably. He was not used to having girls, even his sister, clinging to him and sobbing. He pried me off him, and led me to the passenger side of the car. I got in, and grabbed some tissues to try and stem this flow of unusually expressive emotion.

In five minutes, we were driving down the street (at the speed limit, I might add. There was no sense in getting caught for being careless). I stared broodingly out the window, wishing with all my heart that my best friend was safe, and unharmed.

-O-

I looked over at the luminous clock, which read 12:25, and I yawned. "Wow, did I fall asleep? It was just 9:30…"

"Are you kidding," asked Bart. "You've been out like a light since we left Springfield. You didn't go to bed too late last night, did you?"

"Would you consider 12 o'clock too late?" I asked sheepishly.

He looked at me inquisitively. "Don't you get migraines if you stay up too late?"

"I took medicine before I went to bed, and took some more this morning. And the two liters of Buzz Cola before school may have helped, too," I explained. "But I couldn't make myself go to bed, because I was reading this really interesting story online, and—"

"Ok, ok, I really don't care how late you stayed up. I'm not your dad," he said.

"Hah," I laughed bitterly. "Homer doesn't care. He calls once a week, but the rest of the time, I'm all alone in the house, just sitting in front of a computer screen, watching my lonely life go by.".

Bart rolled his eyes. "I've forgotten how ridiculously angsty teenage girls can be."

"Hmph," I replied. After a few silent minutes, I asked, "how much farther?"

"Well," he said, looking at the road signs, "we're about halfway there. So I'd say another three hours."

"Good," I said. "The sooner we get there, the better."

"Lisa, you have to explain to me. What's up with Todd Flanders? When I left, he was still a nerdy wuss who would spy on you from his bedroom window. I find it very hard to believe that you're friends with something like that."

I smiled, remembering. "Not long after you left, he went kinda crazy. Long suppressed feeling were screwing him up, and finally they got to be too much. He rebelled against everything he had once been, and changed completely. And you know I had never had many friends, and once they became interested in clothes and makeup, the friends I had were not friends anymore. Tommy had never had friends either, because he was a nerdy wuss, and I guess the two of us just sort of gravitated towards each other. And we were the best of friends for three years."

"Just friends?" asked Bart skeptically, "or was there something else going on?"

A vivid blush spread across my face. "Of course just friends! We were not romantically involved, whether you choose to believe it or not!"

"I believe it," said Bart. "I know you don't like him, because I know you like someone at school."

"H-how did you know?" I sputtered, my blush deepening.

"Every time you talk about school, and especially when you talk about your class, you get this faraway, dreamy look in your eyes," he said smugly. "I've seen that look from you before, like when you were going out with Nelson, or that time you had that substitute teacher, or that time we went to the dude ranch, and you fell for that Luke guy."

"That is impossibly perceptive for you, Bart! Since when did you become so observant? And all those things happened so long ago…how were you able to remember so well?"

He gave me a sidelong glance. "I was imprisoned for three years. Believe it or not, I have changed in a lot of ways, and, I'll admit, some of them are for the better. Though," he added, "I remembered all those things so I could tease you about them later on."

I just stuck out my tongue.

-O-

"Well, that clerk gave me directions to the pub," said Bart, coming out of the all-night convenience store. "But he suggested that it was too late for me to be out, and said that I should 'toddle home to mama—'"

"You can gripe about threats to your maturity later," I grunted. "We have to find Tommy now."

"The pub is about fifteen minutes away," said Bart, starting up the car. "And the sooner we get Flanders, the better. This is a rough city at any time of day, and especially bad at night. The clerk was wearing a bullet-proof vest."

"I agree," I said. "Let's go."

I spent fifteen minutes staring out the window, looking amidst the many neon signs for The Brass Monkey. When I saw it, I shrieked, "There it is! Bart, there it is!"

"I see it," he winced. "I'm not blind, or hard of hearing,"

"Sorry," I said, only half-concentrating on the apology. I was peering into the alley, trying to see Tommy. All I could see was the dumpster he said he would be taking refuge behind.

As soon as the car stopped, I threw the door open, and sprinted towards the dumpster. "Tommy?" I yelled, listening for an answer.

"Keep it down, Lisa," replied a sickly-sounding voice from the two-foot gap between it and the wall, "or else you'll attract unwanted attention."

"Tommy!" I yelled, only more quietly. "Come out, I'm here with Bart to bring you home."

"Thank Buddha," he said weakly. I could hear rustling, and then he emerged, crawling.

If he hadn't already warned me not to, I would have shrieked. Dried blood encrusted his bruised and cut face. His lip was split, and one eye was swollen completely shut. Aside from these obvious injuries, I noticed other things about him, like how gaunt his face was, and how his curly brown hair was dirty and bedraggled. He looked like he had been through hell and back.

"Oh, holy Buddha, what happened to you?" I breathed.

He replied softly, "I got m-mugged…I was looking for a place to sleep, and f-found an abandoned house, except I…I didn't know it b-belonged to those guys…"

"Oh, Tommy," I sobbed. I bent down, and wrapped him in a fierce hug, but pulled back quickly when he gasped. "What is it?" I asked with trepidation.

"It's my-my ribs, I think they're broken…" he winced.

I bit my lip, then said, "I'll get Bart—"

"No need," Bart said, walking up behind me. "I'm here, and we can carry him to the car." He studied Tommy for a moment, then said to him, "You look like shit."

"Tell me about it," said Tommy through gritted teeth.

As carefully as we could, Bart and I picked up Tommy, carried him to the car, and put him gently into the back seat. Despite the care we took, he was out cold as we laid him down, and spread the blanket over his shivering body.

"Bart, we need to get him to the hospital ASAP," I ordered.

"I agree, Lisa," he said, "but do you really want to bring him to a Scarletville hospital?"

"No, not really," I said, thinking of the skanky hospitals in the dingy city. "But he is in dire need of medical help."

"Hey, hey, don't get all melodramatic on me!" protested Bart. "I know he needs help, but not half-assed help! There was a fairly big city about an hour away, and the hospital looked clean and orderly, at least on the outside. He's been out all night, and I think he'll last another hour, ok?"

"But Bart—" I protested.

"If you absolutely insist on taking him to a dilapidated hospital run by people completing their community service sentences, then I will take you there. I strongly recommend that we go to the hospital that will give him the medical care he needs."

Bart had had me convinced at 'dilapidated'. "I know, I know, you're right," I acceded.

"Well then, instead of standing around, talking, let's get a move on!" he said.

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O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

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October 6, 2004

Well, it did take quite some time, but I gave you all a longish chapter, with an exciting new plot twist. But don't think that this event will not connect to everything else that's been going on. In my stories, everything (or nearly everything) has relevance to the plot.

Haha, for my birthday today, one of my friends gave me a singing and dancing Homer, and the other gave me a pillow case with a picture of a naked Homer on it. O.o Everyone else was disgusted/horrified by it; I laughed at it. Now what does that say about me…?

Thanks muchly to everyone who reviewed! We're up to about 145 now! Incredible!