I'm just now realizing how terrible the description is for this story. Seriously. I used the word "go" way too many times. But you can only do so much in 255 characters, I guess... *sigh*

Just so you guys know, I am so unbelievably touched by the strong positive reaction to this story. On most of my stuff, I get maybe two reviews a chapter. (Though I take all the reviews I can get.) Day after this story is posted, I log onto my email and I've got five reviews. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It really does make my day to hear your glowing praise. ...Oh, fine, and the criticism too. I know quite well I'm not perfect.

Anywho, onto the story, which is what you really came here for, not my rambling author's notes. Read on!

Rapunzel sighed as she opened the door to the small house she shared with her mother. It had been a long day. After having breakfast, Rapunzel had met up with Alison and Cynthia for what the latter called a "hard-core shopping trip," meaning that Rapunzel was dragged into almost every apartment store in the mall while Cynthia and Alison played dress-up. Luckily the girls had been wise enough to allow Rapunzel to go to the one art store in the mall, or there might have been blood spilt. But despite the hectic nature of the past ten hours, Rapunzel's thoughts kept returning to the annoyingly good-looking waiter at the Snuggly Duckling.

She really did feel bad about turning Flynn down. She did like him, but she was not about to get involved with a boy, not after the debacle with Jordan, and definitely not after what Matthew had done. She knew better now, though it had taken a lot of tissues and a lot of afternoons spent crying at Alison's house to heal from those wounds. Besides, her own father was proof that some stupid guys would leave behind a wife and child without even a by-your-leave.

As soon as she was in the house, she slipped off her shoes. She didn't know why, but ever since she was little, she had had an irrational dislike for any kind of shoes. It was all her mother could do to make her wear shoes outside of the house– if Rapunzel had her way, she'd go everywhere barefoot.

She walked to the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. Today was Saturday, meaning that tonight was her mother's "girls' night out" with her friends. It also meant that Rapunzel was therefore left to her own devices as to how to feed and entertain herself. Entertaining herself wasn't hard– if there wasn't a good movie on, she could always just paint– it was the food part that was occasionally difficult. Luckily Rapunzel was the cook in the house, so she could usually find or make something interesting to eat.

Sure enough, there was a note on the counter in her mother's handwriting. Be back around ten- girls and I are going out to dinner. Went to the store today, so there's fresh vegetables. Love you most. –Mom

Rapunzel smiled at the last line. It was their little ritual- her mother would say, "I love you," Rapunzel would respond with "I love you more," and her mother would finish with "I love you most." It was a modified version of one they used to do with her father, but naturally, after he left, a change had been in order. A lot of changes had been in order, actually, but Rapunzel and her mother had ended up fine. Her mother had to work two jobs to help pay for Rapunzel's college education, but they managed just fine, and they were happy just the two of them.

As her eyes roamed around the kitchen, they fell on the mail pile, where on top there was an envelope addressed to her. She frowned when she saw the return address, but opened it anyways.

Well, she had to give it to him– he at least sent nice cards. That is, when he sent them at all. No matter what, her father never seemed to get her birthday right. But at least the card wasn't three weeks late like last year.

She shook the card, and, as she expected, a few twenty-dollar bills fell into her hand. While she was glad to get a present at all, she wished– as she did every year– that her present was a little more personal than money. You gave someone money when you either didn't know what to get them or hadn't bothered to get them a real present, and she suspected that both were true of her father.

A little trilling sound to her left caught her attention, and she smiled when she spotted her pet chameleon, Pascal, sitting on the counter. She held out her hand and he climbed up her arm, settling on her shoulder and shifting colors to match the shade of her shirt.

"Well, at least he sends me something," she said to the chameleon, though there wasn't much happiness in her voice. "When he remembers to."

Pascal snuggled close to her cheek as a way of comforting her. She smiled, though her eyes stayed sad.

She reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out a well-worn flyer. It advertised the annual Light Festival her town held, a day of merriment that culminated in the release of hundreds of floating lanterns into the April sky. Ever since she had been a young girl, Rapunzel had been dying to go. There was only one problem: the lanterns were released at eight o'clock, and Rapunzel's very strict curfew was seven-thirty. If she wasn't home by then, she'd be grounded for a week at the very least.

She sighed. How was she supposed to convince her mother to let her go? She looked down at Pascal, who gave her a supportive nuzzle.

"This is the year, Pascal," she said. "It's got to be. I'm turning eighteen– she just has to let me go. I'll talk to her as soon as she gets home."

The next morning, Gothel Harriman opened her daughter's door to find the young blonde collapsed on the bed, not even having bothered with changing into pajamas. The little chameleon that Rapunzel loved so much was curled up by her nose, his skin the same color as the bedspread.

With her thick, dark curls, it was clear that Rapunzel had gotten her beautiful blonde hair from her father- probably one of the only good things he'd ever given the girl, Gothel thought with no small amount of venom. Where the brown in her hair had come from, Gothel didn't know, but she had a feeling from one of Rapunzel's grandparents. But Gothel was glad that her daughter had grown up to be such a strong, confident, beautiful young lady– just like her mother.

Gothel padded over to the side and gently brushed her daughter's shoulder with her hand. "Rapunzel," she called softly. The girl jerked awake, her eyes flying open and her body bolting upright. "What?" she exclaimed groggily.

"Breakfast is ready, dear," she said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Rapunzel looked at her mother with a little bit of trepidation. There was a very good reason why Rapunzel did most of the cooking in the house, so on the somewhat rare occasion that Gothel did cook a meal, the success of the attempt was…debatable. Seeing the look of apprehension on her daughter's face, Gothel smiled. "Don't worry, I didn't burn anything this time."

To Rapunzel's relief, her mother had stuck to something simple. As they ate– Rapunzel giving Pascal a few bites every now and then– she mulled over how she would bring up the topic of the Light Festival. To her relief, it was instead her mother who brought up the subject.

"So I wanted to know what you wanted to do for your birthday, flower," Gothel asked. Rapunzel smiled a little at the nickname– fitting, as she was named after a flower.

"Well, Mom, I was actually going to talk to you about it," she said. "I was wondering…" She sighed and started over, the words coming out wrong. "See, what I really want for this birthday…actually, what I've wanted for quite a few birthdays…"

"Rapunzel, we've talked about the mumbling," Gothel said exasperatedly, "it's very annoying. Speak up."

"I want to see the floating lights!" Rapunzel burst out, before she lost her nerve.

Gothel looked at her with an eyebrow raised, confused. "What?" she asked.

Rapunzel pulled out the flyer. "Well, I was hoping you might take me to see the Light Festival," she said, showing her mother the paper.

Gothel gave it a cursory glance. "Sure, dear, we can go to the festival."

Here's the hard part, Rapunzel thought with an inward cringe. "Well, see the thing is, Mom, the part of the festival I really, really want to see is the lanterns. But they're released at eight."

Gothel set down her fork. "Rapunzel, your curfew is seven-thirty. You know that."

"I know, Mom, but this is really important to me! I'm turning eighteen, and I've wanted this for so many years! Can't we just extend my curfew by an hour or so?"

"Rapunzel, I don't want you out and about after dark. All kinds of things could happen- you could be hit by a car, or get sick, or some ruffian or thug could attack you!"

"Oh, come on, Mom–"

"No, Rapunzel. That's final."

"I'll be eighteen. I can do what I want!"

"Fine, then move out. But as long as you live in my house, young lady, you live under my rules, and if you're not home by seven-thirty, then so help me, I will ground you for a month!"

Rapunzel's lip quivered with hurt and anger. "You're not fair!" she yelled, and stormed off to her room.

Gothel sighed and her head fell into her hand. "Great," she muttered. "Now I'm the bad guy."

Rapunzel flung the door to her room open and promptly collapsed on her bed and began to cry. It just wasn't fair! Most of her friend's curfews had been extended to ten-thirty by the time they were sixteen or seventeen, and she was eighteen with a seven-thirty curfew.

She gave a watery sigh and turned her head to Pascal, who turned blue and snuggled against her chin. She looked over at the phone. She could call Alison, but she didn't really feel like talking on the phone, and if she walked over to Alison's house, she'd have to deal with her six younger siblings, which she really didn't feel like doing.

She reached over to her book, where she'd tucked a little slip of paper inside of the cover. She looked at the two lines written there. She could just pick up the phone, but again, she didn't want to talk on the phone. Then the light bulb hit her.

She ran over to one of her three bookcases, where there was a thick phone book squeezed in between her drawing books and her dictionary. She sat down with it on her bed and flipped it open, hoping she could find his number.

It took quite a few minutes of searching, but she came across it and scribbled down the address on the back of the paper that had his number. Thank God for listed phone numbers.

The neighborhood that Flynn lived in was what some would call a "student slum," which, coupled with what she guessed his age was, told her he was probably a college student. She stared down at her sandals, avoiding the glances of the other people on the sidewalk. She clearly looked too young to be here- most of the people she passed were at least two or three years older than her.

She thankfully came to the address that she'd written down and tentatively knocked on the door. She waited for a minute and was about to turn back, disappointed, when she heard the lock click and the door opened. A man with wildly curly hair, glasses and a wrinkly T-shirt stood there, looking at her with surprise.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Um, I– I wanted to see Flynn," she mumbled, tucking a stray hair behind her ear nervously. Unlike her mother, he seemed to be able tell exactly what she said.

He appraised her for a second before nodding. "Hold on a minute," he told her, and yelled over his shoulder, "Oy! Fitzherbert! Door!"

She heard footsteps before Flynn's head appeared over the other man's shoulder with a surprised expression. "Rapunzel?" he asked.

"Hi, Flynn," she said quietly. "Can I talk to you?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. The other man stepped out of her way as she shyly came inside. Once inside, she could see more of the house– well, apartment, really. The entryway opened onto a large room which she took to be the living room; to her left, a small hallway with a few rooms jutted off. In the living room, a pretty woman sitting on the couch looked at her, then Flynn with a raised eyebrow.

"Teresa, John, out," he told them. "Go find somewhere else to play house."

"Hey, we never kick you out when we have company," John protested, but a warning look from Flynn silenced him. Flynn could plainly see that Rapunzel was upset, and that having his two roommates acting like lovebirds nearby wouldn't help.

Once the other two had exited the room, Flynn sat Rapunzel down on the couch. "So what's up?" he asked. "I'll admit, I was pretty surprised to see you at the door."

"Well, I had your number, but I didn't really want to talk to anybody on the phone, and if I went to Alison's house, I'd get bothered by her siblings, and then I thought of you, and I looked up your number in the phone book and got the address, and…" She sighed. "Sorry. I ramble when I'm upset."

"It's fine," he told her. "But what's got you upset?"

"Well, it's kind of a long story," she said. "You know the Light Festival next week?"

"Yeah. I haven't gone yet, though."

"Well, I've wanted to go see the lanterns ever since I was little, but the problem is that the lanterns get sent up at eight, and my curfew's seven-thirty."

He looked at her with a little shock. "Your curfew's that early?"

"I know. I asked my mother, but she won't budge."

"What about your dad?"

Rapunzel looked away. "He's…not in the picture." They were awkwardly silent for a moment until Rapunzel sighed. "Anyways, the point is that my eighteenth birthday is going to be a complete drag and life isn't fair." She buried her head in her hands, and for a second, he was afraid she was going to cry– and he did not do well with crying women– but she stayed thankfully dry.

Flynn was a little surprised at how young she was. But then again, she looked a lot older when her hair was pulled back. When it was down, like this, she looked more her age. But pretty either way… he thought, then almost slapped himself for thinking it. Now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts, and besides, she'd already turned him down. But she was talking again, and he quickly snapped himself out of his terrible thoughts.

"So," she said, letting out a deep breath and brushing her hair out of her face. "Flynn Fitzherbert."

He laughed a little. "Actually, my real name is Eugene."

She raised an eyebrow. "Eugene? Really? Then where'd Flynn come from?"

"Ah. Well, when I was little, there was this book that I read all the time. The Tales of Flynnigan Rider. It was full of these stories about this swashbuckling rogue who traveled around, fighting off villains and rescuing damsels in distress. To a seven-year-old kid, it was the coolest thing I'd ever read. I picked up the nickname Flynn in elementary school, and it just stuck. Besides, it sounds more dashing than Eugene."

She laughed, and somehow the sound made his heart skip a beat. "Well, just for the record…I think I like the sound of Eugene better."

He smiled. "Thanks."

She sighed again. "Well, I guess I'll work something out. I'll probably go over to Alison's house or something."

"Alison?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. Alison is my best friend. If we're lucky, her mom will ship off all of Alison's siblings for the night and it'll just be the two of us."

A thought was forming in his head. "Have I seen her with you before, at the diner?"

"Probably, it's our favorite place. She's a redhead. But a lot of times she's got band after school, so she can't come with me all of the time."

"Hmm," he said absently. He saw Rapunzel glance at her watch.

"Oh, darn, I should probably go before my mother gets worried," she said. "I didn't really tell her that I left, so she'll probably be calling me before too long–" Just as she said this, her pocket buzzed. She pulled out a battered purple cell phone and flipped it open.

"Hi? …Yeah, Mom…Yes, I know…No, I'm fine…Yes, I'll be home soon." Rapunzel paused for whatever speech her mother was giving. "I'm sorry I worried you, I was just…talking to a friend. …Alright, Mom…I love you more." She smiled at whatever her mother said next, then flipped the phone closed with a little sigh.

"Thanks for letting me vent, Eugene," she said as she got up. "You don't mind if I call you that? I like it better than Flynn."

"It's fine," he assured her. He wasn't about to tell her that she was probably the only one he'd allow to call him that.

"Okay," she said with a smile. "Well, thanks again. I'll see you around." She walked over to the door and quietly let herself out.

Once she had left, Teresa poked her head around the corner, looking first at the door that Rapunzel had just walked through, then at Flynn.

"Oh, you've got it bad for her, don't you?" she asked, not in the way that Addie teased him, but as an honest question.

Flynn sighed. "I honestly don't know, Teresa," he told her.

"I like her. You're not her usual self around her."

He looked at her. "And that's a good thing?"

"Well, considering that you're usually infuriatingly suave and overconfident around girls, yes, that is a good thing. Your ego could do with a little deflating, and she's just the thumbtack you're looking for."

Flynn propped his feet up on the coffee table next to the couch, thinking. If what he wanted to do could work, then he'd have to find a way to get off of work early on Monday or Tuesday…

Eugene was standing outside of the high school on Tuesday, feeling more and more awkward as time passed. More than a few people had given him strange looks, as if they could tell he didn't belong here. Of course, they were right– he'd graduated from high school almost four years ago with no intention of ever going back, and for all they knew, he was some pervert trying to hook up with a girl young enough to be jailbait. But, for reasons somewhat unknown even to himself, he was determined to make this plan work.

To his relief, the doors to the music building opened as the band kids filed out. He searched the crowd for the person he was looking for, and thankfully found her head of bright orange hair standing out like a painfully bright neon beacon. He made his way over to her, ignoring the looks he got from the other band members.

"Alison?" he asked when he came to her. She looked at him with an expression that said "If you come one step closer, I will beat you so bad your ancestors' ears will ring."

"Yeah, and you are?" she said, not unduly hostilely.

"My name's Flynn. I'm a…friend of Rapunzel's."

The hostility in her gaze mostly vanished almost immediately as she seemed to recognize him, or at least his name. "Oh, so you're the guy. I can see why she talks about you."

"She talks about me?" he asked, both flattered and strangely nervous. He hoped it wasn't anything bad.

"Yup. Don't worry, it's mostly good stuff. So what's up?"

"Well, there was something I wanted to talk to you about," he said. "It's about Rapunzel's birthday."

She gave him an approving look. "Walk and talk with me," she told him. "I walk home anyways."

The plot thickens...as Eugene and Alison plot together. Irony. Funny bastard, that.

So...I hope I'm not getting really OOC here, because I really hate that. And I would never stop banging my head against the wall if I had an OOC fic. D:

Again, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I love y'all and I encourage you to do so again! Strongly encourage! Really strongly encourage! And in case you didn't get the hint, I'D REALLY LOVE IT IF YOU REVIEWED. I am so adamant because people usually...don't. At least on my other stories.

Oh, by the way, once we get into Part Four, the story will get SLIGHTLY less kid-friendly. Innuendo is as far as I go in this story, though. I am firmly against Rapunzel/Eugene smut. That couple is just too cute and wonderful to do that. But I thought I'd just warn you. PLEASE DON'T LET THAT SCARE YOU OFF. I do mean slightly.

So, to sum it up, review or DIE. JK! JK! I KID! I KID! But reviews make me very happy. :D

Cheers,

~RAH

EDIT: So right now Part Four is kicking my butt very, very hard. Unfortunately, it's what I call a building chapter- it establishes very important details for the rest of the story- so I can't avoid writing it. :( Basically, I'm just notifying you that it'll probably take me a while to write it, so after I post Part Three (this chapter here is Part Two), you may not see an update for a little while, especially because we are moving into AP, SAT, ACT, and STAR testing season in the next few months, so my life will be degraded to a living, slaving hell. But don't give up on me, please! I will finish the story, I promise.

Cheers,

~RAH