And The Winner Is...
by TheBucketWoman
Disclaimer: I do not have any affiliation with any of the various and sundry members of any production or distribution companies that handle Life with Derek. I do have a Motown CD or three, but no rights to them either. Kay?
Chapter Fifteen
Part One: Derek
Derek and Sam spent most of Sunday morning playing video games, and both were dizzy and overstimulated by lunchtime. Casey, in complete Sunday-afternoon denial, tried to pretend that the cast list would not be posted the next day, and therefore there was no reason for her to be nervous. During the school year, Derek usually spent Sundays ignoring homework that was still undone, and tests that were unstudied for so he knew all about Sunday denial. He had a slight case of his own, actually. He alternated between looking forward to and dreading his appointment with Dr. Trent.
During the week sometime, he'd had a dream about the appointment. Nora had taken him in, because his Dad had a meeting or something, so she'd been the one waiting for him to finish with the doctor. He sat in a dentist-style chair and leaned back while the doctor stuck the probe down his throat yet again. This time she asked him to say "ahhh" and he tried and nothing came out.
"Any time now, Derek," she said. He tried again. Nothing.
"Well," she said. "That's unusual." She looked over at the monitor, punched a couple of keys in the computer, then told him to try again. When that hadn't worked, she slapped the monitor.
"This has never happened before," she said. "It must be you. Let's see if you're still under warranty." She looked into his ear.
Dr. Trent pulled the door open and yelled for Nora to come in. She explained the situation in nonsense terms that Derek supposed he might have heard on medical shows at one time or another, and both she and Nora seemed really annoyed that Derek's father hadn't gotten the extended coverage like he did for Edwin and Marti.
"As soon as the warranty runs out, everything falls to pieces doesn't it," Nora said.
He thought of this dream more and more the closer it got to Monday. He felt downright sick by the time The Simpsons came on.
Dad, Nora, and Marti had managed to be gone most of the day, leaving the other kids with them. It had been a pretty welcome distraction, actually, because Edwin and Lizzie were clearly up to something, and, Derek and Casey spent a good bit of time, after Sam left, on the couch trying to figure out what it was.
"Get rich quick scheme?" Casey wondered.
Maybe, Derek wrote, and put that at the top of another page.
"Or maybe they found a new research topic?" Casey said. Derek nodded and put that down on the list as a possibility. Edwin and Lizzie had been after a new subject since their study of Derek and Casey had come to its logical conclusion. Derek wondered if Edwin would be surprised that he and Casey knew about the "research" that had been going on.
We're no fun anymore, Derek wrote, and then he drew he frowny face next to it.
"Maybe they're trying to find out what's been up with Marti?"
Derek shook his head. Marti's got a crush, he wrote.
"Really?" Casey said. "How'd I miss that?"
"Who's she got a crush on?" she asked.
Derek shrugged. But I know what a Marti crush looks like, he wrote. She liked Sam when she was four.
Casey could see how that could happen. But she was still missing something.
"What exactly does a Marti crush look like?" Casey said.
What does a Casey crush look like? Or a Lizzie crush? Derek wrote.
"Marti's usually more collected than we are," Casey said. "I've never seen Marti pretend to like stuff she doesn't or laugh at jokes that aren't funny."
She's eight. She'll do that later, he wrote.
"I'll see if Lizzie'll help me get the story out of her later, I guess," Casey said.
Derek shook his head.
Bad move. Smarti does not react well to pushing, he wrote. What happens when you tell her to do something?
"Usually she points the remote at me hoping my channel will change or else she points that wand at me and orders me to disappear."
Derek held out both hands, palm up, like "There you have it."
She'll spill when she wants to, he wrote. Casey nodded.
"So back to Lizzie and Edwin," she said. "They're spending more time than usual in the games closet."
Derek smiled. He thought that if it were anyone else, that the games closet would be the perfect makeout spot.
He dropped his writing pad. Holy crap, he thought. It couldn't be. He tried to keep from smiling while Casey picked the pad up.
He gave her a little "thank you" bow.
"What," Casey said. He shrugged.
"What are you thinking?" she asked. He sure as hell had no intention of telling her yet. She'd fly off the handle like she always did.
Nothing, he said. Wondering what's for dinner.
"Uh-uh," Casey said. "Don't buy it. You have a theory don't you?"
He shrugged and shook his head.
"Don't look all innocent," Casey said, starting to grin. "I will find out." She climbed on top of him and held his wrists down. He let her.
She was trying to tickle him when Edwin walked through the living room trailed by an irate Lizzie.
"I told you to leave it alone," Lizzie said.
"Nuh-uh," Edwin said. "Can't stand it anymore." He went to the closet by the door.
"Gotta be a hat in here somewhere," he said. He rooted through it until he pulled out a Blue Jays cap and tucked his increasingly sloppy hair into it.
Lizzie took it off of him and ran a hand through his hair.
"You'll get used to it," she said. She turned toward the couch and noticed what Derek and Casey staring at them from their own highly suspicious position.
"Ew," Lizzie said. "Other people sit on that couch you know."
"Aww, let the kids have their fun," Edwin said, sounding for all the world like their grandfather. He dodged Lizzie's hands as she continued to mess with his hair.
"Quit it, woman!" he said.
"Stay still," she said. "Boy."
She followed him back upstairs.
Derek looked up at Casey apprehensively. She looked toward the stairs for a minute, continuing to fixate on the spot after Edwin and Lizzie had long since left.
"Oh my God," Casey said. Derek nodded.
"Oh my God," she repeated. She climbed off of him and sat by his knees.
"Did you see the jeans she had on?" she said. "Mom got her new jeans two weeks ago, because the old ones were getting to be too tight, and there she is with the old ones on."
Derek smiled. He was sure Edwin noticed Lizzie's jeans too. The girl was getting hips and a bit of a butt and Derek had begun to keep an eye on boys around her. Who knew he'd been watching all the wrong boys?
"We gotta break the lock on that closet," Casey said. "What're you smiling at?"
Derek laughed.
"Not funny!" Casey said. Derek nodded.
"This has been going on right under our noses!" she said. "For how long?"
Derek shrugged. He wrinkled his nose to indicate he didn't think it was that long. He reached for his pad. It had come to rest half under the couch and when he reached for it, he managed to push it a little further under there and it was a struggle to get a decent grip on it.
This is Edwin. Lizzie will grow old and die waiting for him to make a move, he wrote finally.
"Lizzie's not as hopeless as Edwin is, though," Casey said.
Good, Derek wrote.
"This is so weird," Casey said. Derek laughed some more. His sides were starting to hurt.
Part Two: George
Every week they tried, repeat tried to get most of the week's shopping done on Sunday, and every week they were thwarted. Neither George nor Nora could stand the crowds or the lines of people who'd clearly had the same idea they'd had.
George had tried to put forth the theory that it just wasn't possible to get a week's worth of food for seven people, five of whom were kids each with the capacity of your average dump truck in one trip. Even with the two of them splitting up and filling their own carts. Even when George had Marti's help. She really was indispensable when it came to picking cookies, candy, cereal, and sushi. It made him think: Edwin and Derek were not to be trusted in a store; they jousted in the paper towel aisle and generally made George deny paternity. Casey tended to be a compulsive label reader, to the point where she couldn't pick anything out in good conscience. Lizzie was generally reasonable, but one could not shop without Marti. She picked pasta according to its shape and was always the first to remind them about fruit.
"We need bananas," she said, skipping toward the produce.
"Right," George said. "For Sir Monks-A-Lot."
"No, that's who the sushi is for," Marti said. "Duh."
"Oh, and that reminds me," she said. "We need chocolate syrup."
"Okay," George said. He spent the next twenty minutes wondering about the connection of sushi and chocolate syrup in his daughter's mind.
They crossed paths with Nora in the frozen foods section, and Marti took the opportunity to remind Nora about bacon.
"Smerek's gonna want some bacon tomorrow before you go to the doctor's," Marti said.
"Well, he's not gonna want anything until after he gets back, but BLTs for dinner tomorrow might be good, huh?" Nora said.
"Cool," Marti said. "We gotta go get tomatoes then, Daddy." She skipped back toward produce.
Before he left to chase after Marti, Nora looked at the kaleidoscopic collection of stuff in his cart, smiled, and said. "Meet you at the checkout then, I guess."
Twenty minutes later, after Marti had picked out the best tomatoes she could, as well as some fennel, some avocados, and a pomegranate (George hoped Casey would know what to do with it), they were ready to check out. Nora picked the self-service line and zoomed right through, while George and Marti were stuck in a line that seemed overloaded with hagglers and expired coupon users. Marti amused herself by looking at what everyone else was getting, presumably to give her ideas for next time. George wondered if the ninth circle of Hell had grocery lines.
But finally, they met Nora and Sir-Monks-A-Lot at the station wagon and after they loaded their three days worth of food into the trunk, the four of them shared the little pack of California roll in the parking lot, Marti in particular had a thing for the pickled ginger.
In addition to her indispensability at the store, Marti was also the one who picked out the CDs they played in the car on the way home. She decided that today was Motown day, popping in the CD she borrowed from Edwin, who'd borrowed it from Casey. The Four Tops' "Can't Help Myself," filled the car, and George tapped the steering wheel and sang along a little on the traffic-filled ride home. He decided that Sunday errands weren't so bad.
Then they got home and George was rushed by Edwin, who begged him either for haircut money or for the set of electric hair clippers he'd bought years ago, when the kids were little. Abby'd made him put it away after the time he'd accidentally buzzed most of Edwin's hair off that one time when he was five. Kid was getting a little scruffy, come to think of it.
"Don't let him!" Lizzie said.
"Why not?" George asked.
"Looks cute all scruffy," Nora said, ruffling Edwin's hair.
"I will shave my head, I swear," Edwin said. George believed him. He pulled out his wallet and handed the kid some cash, all the while smiling at the image of Edwin giving himself a reverse Mohawk to the horror of the women in the house.
"Sorry, Liz," George said.
Lizzie shot Edwin a look of disgust and turned on her heel and left the kitchen.
Edwin's in the doghouse, George thought. He'll have to buy her something to fix things. The thought came pretty naturally, and brought him to the same realization that Casey and Derek had had a couple of hours before.
Crap, he thought, them too?
"Is Lizzie finally wearing that lip gloss I got her?" Nora said. "Now if I could only get her to get rid of those jeans. They're way too tight."
George wished he were back in that traffic jam.