4.

"Is it just me or are kids these days getting younger and younger?" Mason asked, genuinely curious as they made their way to the front of the crowd that was gathered on either side of the center aisle. It was a perfect day; sunny, not a cloud in the sky, and the two of them had just successfully crashed one of the most prestigious private schools in the area's commencement ceremonies, otherwise known as graduation.

"Tell me about it." George replied, pulling her sunglasses on both to shield her eyes and to give herself an added disguise.

"Ooh ooh! Look at that one!" Mason excitedly nudged her side and pointed mockingly at one of the kids walking down the aisle in his graduation cap and gown. "Doesn't look a day older than eleven. Am I right or am I right?"

George laughed and leaned in towards Mason, "cruel, but so fucking true."

"So, how are we supposed to know when to expect—"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." She flailed her arms, hushing him as she ducked behind his back. She put her hands on Mason's shoulders, and peeked out from behind his arm, trying to seem as inconspicuous as possible. That is, as inconspicuous as a dead girl who was conspicuously stalking her little sister could be. "That's her," she breathed, as she stared at the young girl – woman, actually – walking down the aisle. Mason looked at her, then at George for a prolonged moment. He smiled, looked down at the ground, then back at the students passing by.

"She's beautiful." He said genuinely, watching her as she made her way towards the seats allotted for the graduates.

"Yeah, she is," George replied with a grin. Reggie wasn't the same Reggie George had always known. This Reggie was tall, slender, and all smiles; a welcome change from the generally morbid demeanor she possessed shortly following her older sister's death. Her hair was relatively long; flowing and wavy. The look suited her, and George couldn't have been more proud of her baby sister than she was at that precise moment. She wasn't generally the sentimental type, but she couldn't help it. "Just look at her."

"Lovely, really." Mason commented as he nudged George back and out of the crowd so other eager relatives could mill about and cheer their children and siblings on as well.

"You know, I really should have enjoyed my graduation more than I did." She commented as they made their way towards the back of the lawn and took a seat underneath a big oak tree. "I was always felt the need to be so fucking nonconformist, I missed my life as it passed me by."

"Hey, nonconformity is a beautiful thing. Fight the man, man!" Mason shook his fists vigorously in the air, sporting his typical punk rock pose. Suddenly he stopped, and looked to his wrist, expecting to find a watch there, but instead finding nothing – not much of a surprise considering he had never owned one. "Bullocks, what time is it, Georgie?"

"11:22, why do you ask?" George replied, briefly looking down at her watch, then fixing her attention back to Reggie in her cap and gown.

"Didn't you say your reap was at 11:30?"

"Fuck!" She anxiously pulled out her Post-It, glanced at it, then jumped up and bolted away.

"Don't worry, darling, I'll save your seat!" He called out in her direction, and she waved in thanks as she sprinted off. "Hold down the fort, if you will." His eyes scanned over the group of elderly folk gathered close to their tree, then narrowed. "Oy, watch it granpappy, this area is reserved so piss off!"

---

George was out of breath when she finally met up with Rube outside a liquor store on 58th. He eyed her suspiciously, then motioned toward the store with a nod.

She rushed in, scanned the scene, then noticed a suspect looking man lurking around the front. Quickly, she grabbed a bottle of whatever was closest, and headed straight to the cashier; an older man wearing a blue shirt with the name "Lester" stitched into the front. She pulled out her Post-It once more.

L. Davies
23 58th Street
ETD: 11:31 AM

She stuffed the Post-It back in her pocket and placed the bottle of vodka on the counter with a smile. He eyed her strangely, then punched some numbers in the cash register.

"Hiya, Lester. Wait, wait, let me guess, I'm good at this…Frank? Lester Frank? I know, I know, its uncanny, right?"

"Davies." He said simply, still staring at her out of the corner of his eye. "That'll be $30.52."

Fuck me! George screamed inwardly, her eyes bulging as she stared at the number on the register. She laughed nervously then handed him the money, swiping his soul while she was at it. He continued to stare at her strangely as he placed the money in the drawer, making her feel uncomfortable under his gaze. He knows. There's no other explanation.

As she took the bag and started to head out, he called out to her. "For future reference, little lady, I don't generally tolerate underaged kids coming into my store, but seeing as you had the balls to come down and get that before noon even, I figured I'd let you get away with it. But don't you think of coming back round here again. Consider yourself warned…And being extra chatty only draws more attention to yourself."

George stared at him quizzically for a few seconds before it dawned on her. After all this time, she forgot. She may have felt like she was seven years older than she was then, but she still didn't look a day older than eighteen thanks to the joys of being undead. She smiled politely at him, nodded, then bolted out of the store.

As she made her way out, Rube stopped her, also glaring strangely at her. Seriously now, do I have something on my face or what?

"What?" She asked, stopping in front of him. He motioned to the bag with a questioning glance. "I should have just gotten a fuckin' candy bar. Thirty bucks, man. Thirty bucks!" Rube continued to stare at her with an odd expression on his face. "What, what, what! Do I have food on my face or something? Why are you staring at me like I'm fucking ET?"

"What's with the duds, Peanut? I thought you had work today." The sound of two gunshots, almost simultaneous, echoed through the air, and the souls of the liquor store owner and the suspect looking man who was lurking in the front walked out.

"Now how fuckin' pointless was that? You couldn't have just hesitated for a split second longer before whippin' it out?"

George turned her attention back to Rube from the two souls they had just reaped. As they started heading down the street, she frantically tried to come up with some sort of excuse for wearing a completely different outfit from what she had been in first thing this morning at Der Waffle Haus, when she specifically told him she had to head out to work otherwise Delores would flip out for yet another late morning.

"Well, you know Rube, that's a good question, and quite perceptive of you, actually! I did – I mean, do – have work today, but it turned out that it was actually casual Friday, and I forgot, and Delores let me run home to change." She straightened out her posture, proud that she was able to come up with such a fantastic lie off the cuff. Something told her if she told Rube the real reason she wasn't dressed for work was because she had told Delores she had a relapse and desperately needed a day off, then proceeded to crash her little sister's graduation – one of the biggest reaper no-no's in the book – he wouldn't exactly jump for joy.

Rube continued to stare at her strangely, and she knew he wasn't buying her, as Roxy would say, "freeze dried bullshit" for a second.

"I see. And the late entrance? That's not like you, Peanut. Something I've come to expect from Mason, but definitely not you."

"I guess he's rubbing off on me," she said distantly, not taking the time to consider how true that statement may have been.

"Not the answer I wanted to hear." Rube deadpanned, staring at her seriously.

"Hey, I'm sorry to cut this short Rube, but I told Delores that I was heading home to change – which I did, as you so aptly noticed – and if I don't get right back, she'll call the police, then local hospitals…You know how employers get. So yeah, if you could take my dude's soul, show him to the light and what not, that would be fantastic. Thanks, Rube! Bye!" She bolted off before he could even get a chance to speak. She knew full-well she'd have a lot of explaining to do come dinner time, but that was a good seven or eight hours away, which gave her plenty of time to come up with a convincing back story.

---

When she finally made it back to the school, Mason was sitting at the base of the tree, dabbing his eyes with his sweatshirt.

"Mason? Are you crying?" His head immediately snapped up, and it took all her energy to stifle the mocking laughter that so desperately wanted to escape from her mouth.

"No. Yes. No…Bullocks. So the fuck what? Maybe I am, alright? Maybe I fuckin' am! Little Joanie just overcame so many obstacles to get here, and now look at her! Now she's vale-fuckin'-dictorian of her class. If you heard her speech, you'd be fucking bawling your eyes out too, so leave me the fuck alone!" She continued to hold back the laughter as she plopped down beside him.

"It's an art really; how many fucks you can fit into a sentence never ceases to amaze. Now that speech must've been pretty powerful seeing as they've already gotten a quarter of the way through handing out the diplomas and you're still sniffling over here."

"Thank you, and yes, it bloody was."

Just as George was rolling her eyes, she heard the name. Regina Josephine Lass. Suddenly, it was like everything was happening in slow motion. She stood up and watched as her little sister walked across the stage, shook the dean's hand, raised her diploma in the air, and waved it to the crowd. Her parents were standing and cheering; they were happy. So happy.

She could have sworn that Reggie looked at her and smiled, but George knew that was a ridiculous thought. It had been a long time since the sisters had shared a moment like the one by George's grave the day after Halloween more than five years ago. Despite her better judgment, she liked to believe that Reggie knew she was there keeping an eye out on her. She sat back down slowly, dazed, with a hint of a smile plastered on her face. She was proud of her. George was proud of Reggie, and she liked the feeling. She liked seeing her sister grow and change and move on with her life; it somehow made her feel more alive. She looked at the ground, then up at Mason. He smiled widely back at her, then motioned for the two of them to get up and out.

"Whaddya say we head out for a celebratory lunch?"

"The day is young, and so are we. Well, kind of…" She responded, almost happily.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Mason asked, clearly baffled.

"It's a yes. Definitely a yes. And since you were so clever as to think of it, lunch is on you."

"Oh lovely." He replied sarcastically, lifting his arm over her, then resting it across her shoulders. "Glad to see you're back to your normal self, Georgie-girl." He rubbed her arm affectionately, and she just smiled.

---

"Do you ever wish you went to college, Mason?" George asked before taking a bite out of her burger. After arguing for nearly half an hour about where they should have lunch, they ended up sticking with their tried and true home away from home: Der Waffle Haus.

"Oh bloody Hell, no." He responded in a heartbeat as he reached across the table to swipe a few fries from her plate.

"Really?" She asked, surprised – but at the same time not – by the quickness of his response. "Not even the slightest bit?"

With that, Mason stopped in mid-chew and looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. "Well, if I were to go, it probably would have been for my mum, not for all that higher education, get a degree and steady job bullshit."

"I wish I stayed in." She contemplated wistfully, "I mean, if I had, I probably wouldn't be here."

"Or you would. You know what Rube says: if you have an appointment, you have an appointment. You can't think about what ifs and I wish I dids."

"True." George nodded, pointing a fry in his direction. "Like, what if I hadn't…" Suddenly, Rube walked through the doors, startling her out of her reverie. Quickly, she leaned over the table, and grabbed Mason. "…Lied to Rube. FUCK! What do I tell Rube!"

"Um, that you went to your sister's graduation ceremony?" Mason suggested, shrugging with a confused expression on his face before, looking over her shoulder and raising his hand to wave at Rube, who was now hovering over the two of them.

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't just hear what I just heard."

"What you just heard?" Mason laughed nervously, fumbling for words as George simply glared at him angrily. "What you just heard? Rubey, old chap, I had no idea you took such offense to two people…Bowling."

She sighed exasperatedly and slammed her forehead on the table. Why was bowling the only thing he could ever come up with? She really should have known better.

"You know you can't be pulling that shit, Peanut." Rube said, taking a seat next to George in the booth. "I could care less about you ditching Happy Time, but going to your sister's graduation? As lovely as that sounds, you know more than I how incredibly wrong and inappropriate something like that is."

George rolled her eyes at Mason, and he mimed being hung, all while Rube was intently discussing the various reasons why interacting with relatives was completely and utterly verboten. Finally, Rube looked up, catching Mason in mid-mime. He glared at his British booth-mate, not amused in the least. Mason simply laughed nervously.

"My sincerest apologies, Rube. Please, by all means, continue with the verbal lashing."

TBC