"There is two things everybody got to find out for theirselves. They got to find out about love and they got to find out about living." – Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

The truth is, Bridget was a hopeless romantic. She'd seen too many movies, read too many books, heard too many stories. She believed there was a One and Only out there for her, waiting. Well, sometimes she believed that. Other days, she believed she'd turn out to be nothing but an old spinster like her Aunt Bea, who had nothing to offer to anybody and lived with three cats. And the other half of this truth was that Bridget longed for this because she'd seen how lonely her father was at times, and she refused to let that same loneliness encompass her.

She absolutely refused.

Logically, she knew that she was young and that in all likelihood, Jerry Thompson wasn't the only boy for her. The irrational part of her, however, anxiously believed that he was, and wanted to run off with him immediately just to make sure she had him secured.

That was stupid, though.

That was really stupid.

For now, she should just enjoy the time she was spending with him. Vickie had told Bridget she'd had her suspicions that Jerry was going to ask her to homecoming, as – as nearly everyone in school had probably noticed by now – the two had been becoming very close. And so he had. Jerry walked her to nearly all her classes now, even to American History, where Two-Bit was waiting to make cracks about the whole thing every day. Jerry and Two-Bit had similar builds, Bridget noticed, but she wondered how Two-Bit maintained his without athletics like Jerry, who would be going straight into basketball season after football was over. Maybe –

"Where'd you go?"

Bridget looked up to see Jerry smiling funnily at her, setting their food on the table. Bridget blushed, but smiled back.

"Nowhere interesting," she shrugged, and bit the end off a fry. And Rusty's really was nowhere interesting. Just a diner. Where kids like Bridget and Jerry and their friends hung out. Bridget had been told to stay far, far away from a place called the Dingo, that the diner on the east side was a greaser hangout. But shouldn't they be moving past that? Johnny Cade and Bob had died….couldn't they all most past that? "So, um. I thought I'd let you know that I'm thinking of either wearing a red or pink dress to the dance, if you want to match your tie."

Jerry nodded, but then his eyes squinted like he was thinking. "Did you already buy 'em, or somethin'?" He asked. Bridget shook her head.

"No, I just placed them on hold. Why?"

"No reason, really," he shrugged, "I was just thinkin' you looked real good in blue, too, ya know." Jerry's expression turned a bit sheepish and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Well. That's just what I think, anyways. You look good in any color, really."

Bridget felt herself blush a bit. "Well, maybe I could take another look."

Bridget was endeared to notice that Jerry had turned a bit pink, too. "Hey, you'll look great in whatever you wear. I don't, I didn't mean – "

"Jerry?"

"Yeah?"

"You're fine. I'll let you know what I decide on," she said, smiling a little. God, a boy was tongue-tied over her. Really!

"Bridget!"

Shocked from her puppy-love daze, Bridget snapped her head up to see Vickie making her way over to their table. Bridget looked at Jerry, who just smirked and rolled his eyes. "Sorry," Bridget mumbled.

"It's cool," Jerry shrugged. "Vickie…demands attention," he sighed. "And it seems like she wants yours."

Vickie had sauntered over to the pair and stood with her back turned to Jerry, who glared at her backside. Vickie was Bridget's friend (at least, she thought she was), but she could see how some people might find her annoying. "Hi, Vickie."

"Bridget, I need to borrow you for a moment." And without waiting for response, Vickie grabbed her by the hand and dragged her to the ladies room. A bewildered Bridget raised an eyebrow at Vickie as she leaned against the (maybe) clean counter.

"What's up?"

"Homecoming is coming up."

Bridget had to try very, very hard not to roll her eyes. "Right."

"Which means nominations are going on. And that means we have work to do."

"What do you mean?"

Vickie sighed. "Bridget. Only juniors and seniors can win queen and king. Anyone can get on the court, but only upperclassmen can win. And I want to win."

"You do?"

"Duh! There are three opportunities throughout the year. There's homecoming queen, snow queen, and prom queen. I'd like to get this one right off the bat. Do you know George Clayton?"

"Not really…"

"Well, we're thinking he'll be king. Haven't you seen him? He's awfully cute. You'd like him."

Bridget was confused. "I like Jerry…and who's 'we'?"

"I know you like Jerry. And 'we' is everybody!"

Oh. Well, Bridget thought, she should have just SAID that, then. "Oh." Bridget still managed to feel incredibly stupid, however. Vickie seemed to have a knack for doing that. "Well, what do you need help with?"

Now that the attention was back on her and her agenda, Vickie smiled. "I was thinkin' I need a campaign manager, and I'd like it to be you."

Bridget's eyebrows shot up. "Me? You want me to be your campaign manager?" Bridget thought she'd never heard anything so ridiculous in her life. "I mean, you're not running for president, Vickie, it's just homecoming – "

"It's not 'just homecoming'," Vickie said snottily, and Bridget was starting to get the feeling that her friend seriously lacked perspective. "Anyways, I want you to help me."

"Why me?"

"Because Cherry's probably wanting to get nominated, too, and Marcia will help her. And you're organized," she added as an afterthought. "Besides, everyone wants to get a chance to talk to the new girl."

Bridget actually rolled her eyes that time, but Vickie didn't seem to notice, or just didn't care. "What about our other friends? What if they get nominated?" What if I get nominated? She wanted to ask, but she got the feeling Vickie would probably laugh in her face.

"Oh, I doubt they want to." Bridget wanted to tell Vickie that even though she was new, she knew that anybody could nominate whoever they wanted, whether they ran a campaign or not. "So you'll help me. And you might help George, too. We might run a joint campaign. Oh, please, Bridget. You'll help me out, won't you? I'd really like to win this, and I know you can help me. Please?"

Vickie could play her so easily. She knew exactly which buttons to push. So Bridget wasn't surprised when she said yes to her. And she even felt like Vickie actually appreciated it when her friend squealed and hugged her. But Bridget also couldn't help but feel that she'd gotten herself into a bad deal, and that she was just being used.

XXXXX

It was an uncharacteristically warm fall day. Ella and Evie fell into step as they walked beside each other up to Evie's house to work on their project. Ella sure was getting out a lot more these days, she mused, between all these projects and homecoming fast approaching. Evie pushed open the front door and Ella made sure to be careful when she stepped inside, not wanting to risk being stared at by any prying family members. Again.

"Beth, you home?" Evie called into the house.

"Hey!" Her sister called back, then came into the front room. She stopped cold when she saw Ella. "Who's this?"

Evie looked between Beth and Ella. "Beth, this is Ella Mitchell. She came over to work on a project. Ella, this is my sister, Beth."

"Hi," Ella said.

"Hey," Beth said back. She squinted her eyes and studied Ella a moment, then turned her head and looked at her big sister and raised an eyebrow. Evie just shook her head. Ella was confused by the silent communication, but then Beth flounced back into the kitchen. Evie shook her head.

"Let's go to my room."

Well, technically, it was Evie and Beth's room, but that's just mincing words. Evie did feel a bit as if she was letting Ella into some sort of sacred space that only she and her sister and their true friends had ever really seen. It was a meeting place for the Girlfriend Coalition. It was a mess. It was not only sacred, but shared. And now, Evie had brought in Ella, who she barely knew.

"Sit where ya want, make yourself comfortable," Evie said, smiling in an attempt to get rid of her own awkward feeling. Ella sat down at the desk Evie and Beth shared, so Evie sat on her bed. She opened up their notes from the other day and sighed. Time to pick up from where they left off, she supposed.

"Hey, Evie?"

Evie looked up from her notes. Ella had her notes and book out on the desk, but she really didn't seem too concerned with them. "Yeah?"

"Um. So, turns out I am going to the dance after all."

Evie instantly perked up and smiled in delight. "Really? Oh, I'm glad to hear that! So we're back on for doing your hair?"

"I guess – "

"Who's the guy?"

Ella blushed. "Um. His name's Craig Bryant."

"Ooh! Cute! Well, actually, can't say I know him. But I bet he's cute." Evie paused. "Is he cute?"

Ella couldn't even look Evie in the eye when she mumbled, "Yes."

"That's so exciting! Have you thought about what you want to do with your hair? Or, well, have you picked out a dress yet? Because we want the style to go with the dress – "

"That's a thing?"

Evie stared at her. "Of course it's a thing."

Silence. "Oh. Well, truthfully, I haven't really put a whole lot of thought into it because I don't know where to start."

Evie hopped off her bed. "Well, that's what you've got me for. Alright, lemme see here." Evie stood before her partner, and began studying.

The thing was, Ella was a clean slate. Yes, her hair was a bit of a mess. But the natural color was nice, so that was a perk. Her eyes may have been a bit big, but Evie thought it actually somewhat suited her demeanor. Her actual complexion was good, if a bit freckly. And, Evie noticed, "You've got great nails."

"What?" Ella sounded stupefied.

"You've got good nails," she repeated. "Really. They're a good shape, and not all short and wide or too thin."

"Oh," she said. "Well. Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem," Evie said distractedly. "Alright. But mostly, we need to talk about this hair. Good color, we won't have to dye it." Ella's eyes bugged out a bit, but Evie kept rolling. "But it may be a bit long. So we'll cut a bit off the length…"

"Wait. I thought you were going to do my hair! Not cut it!"

Evie raised her eyebrows. "What? I'm not cutting off that much. Just so it looks cleaned up. C'mon, don't act like you've never got yer hair cut before."

Ella sighed. "Well, as long as you don't cut off too much…"

"I won't," Evie said hastily. "So, after we get it all healthy again, then we'll actually do your hair. We can do it however you want. Maybe flip through Cosmo of Seventeen and bring me some pictures."

Ella nodded, which made Evie looked pleased. But as they turned back to working on their project, Ella got the feeling that she was getting into more than she'd bargained for.

XXXXX

"…'There is a concatenation of all events in the best of possible worlds; for, in short, had you not been kicked out of a fine castle for the love of Miss Cunegund; had you not been put into the Inquisition; had
you not traveled over America on foot; had you not run the Baron through the body; and had you not lost all your sheep, which you brought from the good country of El Dorado, you would not have been
here to eat preserved citrons and pistachio nuts.' 'Excellently observed,' answered Candide; 'but let us cultivate our garden.'"

Bridget shut Candide gently and let it rest in her lap. The girl – who knew she was naïve and ignorant of many, many things – could plainly see the correlation. Both books were journeys, spectacular in their own ways. And my god, Candide was barely over a hundred pages! It was ridiculous enough to be a children's book, almost. That sonuvabitch Voltaire couldn't have made his message plainer, and Lucy had still missed it. Lucy hadn't even finished it, either! Was Bridget going to have to do this whole project herself? Goodness gracious. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. (Insert desired exclamation.)

Bridget closed her eyes and leaned back on her bed against the pillows. Eating preserved fruits and pistachio nuts on her own little farm with everyone she had in her little world right there with her sounded nice right about then. She imagined her father would be there, of course. Maybe some of her new friends, if Bridget was right and they really did like her. And for some reason, Two-Bit. Probably just to annoy her, but this was her fantasy world! Why was he there?

XXXXX

"…I'm tellin' ya, Miz Bee! It's not to be missed!"

"Two-Bit," Bridget sighed. This was the one time a day Jerry didn't walk her to her next class, but Two-Bit always seemed to end up doing so. "A rodeo sounds like the last place on Earth I'd want to spend my time."

"Wrong. You're just wrong," Two-Bit shook his head. "Tisk, tisk, Stevens."

The two of them together was an unusual sight, and Bridget was always on the lookout for anyone who might notice her. Usually, people let them go with just a few odd glances. Oh, but not today. Oh, no. Today it seemed the entire school walked up to talk to her at her locker while Two-Bit Mathews stood by, chattering away like he always did. He seemed to get off on bothering her.

"Hi, Bridget."

Oh, what she wouldn't give for people not to sneak up on her. First Vickie, and now…Bridget whipped around. Catherine!

"Oh! Hi, Catherine. How are you?"

Catherine gave her a nice smile. "Fine. Um. I was wondering if I could talk to you."

"Oh! Sure – "

Behind her, Two-Bit cleared his throat. Bridget turned around and scowled at him. He just raised an eyebrow. "Mind introducing me to your friend here?"

If looks could kill, Two-Bit Mathews would've been a dead man. Bridget turned back around and gave Catherine a tight smile. "Two-Bit, this is Catherine Carlson," she introduced. "Catherine, this is Two-Bit Mathews."

Bridget heard Catherine mumble "Two-Bit Mathews?" under her breath, but she turned back around to Two-Bit and said, "Alright. You're introduced. Now, she and I have something to talk about, so maybe it's time for you to go?"

He just ignored her, sidestepping Bridget and turning his attention to Catherine. "Don't mind her, she's a real bore, ain't she? Anyways, Catherine Carlson? You got a brother called M&M?"

It was as if Bridget had been entirely forgotten when Catherine's brother was brought up, and Bridget felt a bit bad that she hadn't known that about her. And how did he know that? Two-Bit had just met her and he already seemed to know more about Catherine than she did! At least, that's what it felt like. Not that she knew Catherine all that well, yet.

"Yeah! I mean, his name's really Edwin, but that's what everyone calls him."

"Ah. I'm in the same boat, ya see. Pretty sure my mother and sister are the only ones who call me by my real name anymore."

"What is your real name?"

"Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" He grinned, and Cathy laughed. Bridget just stood behind them, fuming a bit. "Well, I oughta get going. It was wonderful meeting you, Catherine!"

He waltzed off, and Cathy turned to Bridget. "Who was that?"

Bridget rolled her eyes. "That was Two-Bit. He's that boy I told you about, the friend of Dallas Winston's."

Cathy's nose scrunched up. "Oh." She sounded a bit let down now. "Well. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about homecoming."

Now this was something Bridget would much rather talk about. "Right! Have you found a date, or – "

"Bridget!"

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Bridget just wanted to finish one conversation! For the second time that week, Bridget turned to see Vickie walked towards her with a purpose in her step, this time with a tall, good-looking boy walking along with her. Catherine shrunk back a bit. Vickie cut quite the dramatic figure, and so did her friend.

"Hi, Vickie," Bridget greeted, her voice already small. She felt embarrassed to act like this in front of Catherine, but this boy was…intense.

"Who's this?" Vickie asked, like it was any of her business. Bridget cut her eyes to Catherine.

"Um. Oh, Vickie, this is Catherine Carlson. She just transferred here from Graves Academy. Catherine, this is my friend, Vickie Harper and…"

"George Clayton," Vickie said, tipping her head towards the boy next to her. So this was George. Bridget supposed he was cute, but he seemed more Vickie or Cherry's type. "It's nice to meet you, Catherine."

"Nice to meet you, too."

Vickie turned back to Bridget. "Bridget, George and I wanted to talk to you about homecoming."

"Oh! That's funny. That's what Catherine and I were just talking about. What was it you were saying, Catherine?"

Catherine really looked caught in the middle here, and Bridget felt bad for making her feel awkward, but what else was she supposed to do with these two bearing down on her like this? Catherine shifted on her feet and offered a tight smile. "Right. Well, I was just about to tell Bridget that I know a girl that can do hair real well – I think I mentioned that to you the other day, didn't I? – and I was going to ask if maybe she'd like for her to do hers, too. For homecoming," Catherine added. Vickie raised an eyebrow.

"Really? And she's really good?" Catherine nodded, though she didn't really know. "Who is it?"

"Um, Evie Martin. My friend Ella Mitchell told me about it."

Uh-oh. Bridget might have been the only one who noticed the almost imperceptible change in Vickie's expression upon hearing Evie's name. "I didn't know that she was such a…beautician. Interesting."

"Isn't she dating Steve Randle?" George asked, finally saying something. Both Bridget and Vickie nodded. "He's friends with Ponyboy Curtis, ain't he?"

"I think so. And that Two-Bit Mathews," Vickie drawled, smirking at Bridget, a gesture the girl didn't quite understand.

"That guy's a dumbass," George spat.

Bridget felt her face heat up, and there was a small part of her that wanted to defend Two-Bit. Yeah, he was a dumbass. But…but…but she didn't like hearing anyone else saying that! "I guess he is," she shrugged.

"Right," Vickie said. "Well, ya know what, I'll just talk to you later, Bridget. The bell's about to ring. Nice meeting you, Catherine!" She chirped, and then she and George were off. Bridget turned back to Catherine.

"What was…that?" Catherine asked. Bridget could only sigh.

"My friends," she grumbled.

"Oh." Bridget winced. "I really think you should think about letting Evie do your hair," Catherine moved on cheerfully. "I bet you wouldn't even have to pay too much!"

Bridget wanted to tell her that payment wasn't the problem with that plan, but the bell rang.

XXXXX

"Hi, Evelyn."

At first, Evie didn't recognize the voice. And who the hell called her Evelyn? Evie stopped on the school steps, a breeze blowing up her skirt, and turned around. She was more than surprised to see Vickie Harper standing there, with her sunshiny-blonde hair perfectly done in her beehive hairdo, posturing herself like the queen bee she was. Evie barely knew Vickie. They'd been in school together their entire lives, but they only really knew each other's names, and that all-important matter of which side of town they were from. Evie knew some of those west side girls, didn't exactly like them, but Vickie had alluded her. She knew just enough about her to know she hated her. And now she was standing before her, with a pleasant smile on her face. Evie had no idea what Vickie truly thought of her, but she knew it couldn't be anything good. Not a chance. Not when she was friends with Bridget Stevens.

"Vickie, hi," Evie greeted warily. "Do you need somethin'?"

Vickie shrugged. Her heels clicked as she came down the steps. "Walk with me?"

This was suspicious, but Evie agreed, and the two started walking out towards Vickie's car. It was odd to see her alone without her flock of friends. Surely that prude Bridget would be tagging along, right? Or that Cherry girl that had gotten all mixed up in that mess when Johnny died.

"Seriously, Harper, do you need something? 'Cuz I've got places to be…"

"So do I," Vickie snapped, stopping abruptly. She studied Evie's face for a moment. "Are you friends with Catherine Carlson?"

Evie narrowed her eyebrows. Catherine Carlson? She knew a Kathy, and there was a Cathy at work… "No, I don't. Why do you care?"

"You don't?"

"No…why, should I?"

"You ought to, she says you're doing her hair for homecoming."

What? Who was this Catherine Carlson, and where did she get off telling people that Evie was doing her hair? "Well, I've never heard of her. Where did you hear this, anyways?"

Vickie shifted on her feet, adjusting her books in her arms. Perhaps stalling. "Oh, well George Clayton and I were talking to our friend Bridget Stevens – you know her, don't you? – and Catherine mentioned something about it to her. Said she should consider having you do her hair, too."

Oh, hell no! It was one thing to do a stranger's hair on top of the challenge that was Ella's. It was an entirely different one to do Bridget Stevens' hair, and not just because of how long and wild it was. No, Evie didn't want to spend a second longer with that bitch than she had to. One period a day was enough as it was.

"I'm not doin' her hair," Evie said, disgusted. Vickie looked pleased.

"Good. Look, I know the people you hang around with, who you're dating. You best leave Bridget alone. And Catherine mentioned Ella Mitchell – "

"Yeah, I am doing her hair," Evie said, getting a step closer to Vickie and standing up defiantly straight. Vickie pursed her lips.

"Right. Well. She's going to the dance with one of George's friends, Craig Bryant. Did you know that?"

"I did."

Vickie straightened as well. She really was intimidating. "I don't like that boy you hang around with, Evelyn. Or his friends. And neither do my friends. So I'd be careful if I were you, getting mixed up with them."

Evie's face contorted. "Is that a threat?"

"No," Vickie said innocently. "I'm just saying you might want to be careful."

"Really? You're looking out for me, huh?"

"No," she said again. "I was just curious about the whole situation. That's all." She looked Evie hard in the eye one more time, then grinned. "See you tomorrow, Evelyn."

Vickie drove off, leaving Evie standing stupid in the parking lot, dumbfounded. And feeling vaguely threatened. And very, very confused. First things first, though: she needed to find out who the hell Catherine Carlson was.

XXXXX

AN: Thank you guys for all your support! It means the world to us :)