"In every province, the chief occupations, in order of importance, are lovemaking, malicious gossip, and talking nonsense." – Voltaire, Candide

"C'mon, Ella! Let's see it."

Evie and Beth were sitting on the living room couch, both in their homecoming dresses. When their mother had insisted that Evie included her kid sister in her and Ella's little fashion show, Evie wasn't exactly thrilled, but Beth hadn't made an ass of herself (yet), so she supposed it was alright. As long as she didn't get too nosy with any of their business. Beth had wanted to show off her dress first, what Evie believed to be a pink monstrosity, but Ella seemed to fall in love with on sight. But Ella didn't exactly have the most fashion-forward sense of style, Evie reminded herself. Which was a shame, because she would be really quite pretty if she put a little effort into her style. Then Evie had shown them her green one, and she was very pleased to see both Beth and Ella nodding vigorously in approval.

Now it was Ella's turn, but it seemed as if the girl was having second thoughts.

"Just…give me a moment!" She called, and both Evie and Beth groaned and flopped back, the fabric of their dresses rustling.

"She's such a square," Beth mumbled, and Evie kicked her.

"Shut up. She doesn't mean to be awkward," Evie tried to explain.

"Whatever," Beth sighed. "This better be worth the wait. I thought you guys were just partners for a project. When did you become such good friends?"

Evie shrugged, but Beth did have a point. Since when were she and Ella friends? Who knew, but that's how Evie thought of her in her head. She couldn't say she minded, really. "I don't know. These things just happen."

"So what about Sylvia and Kathy?" Beth asked. "Are you not friends with them anymore?"

That was a fair question. Things in that group had really been in shambles since Sandy had been shipped off to Florida. Not that they had particularly strong foundations to begin with; they were really only friends because of who their boyfriends were, and Kathy and Two-Bit weren't together (at least, for now – who knew where that would go, no matter what either of them said), and neither were Dallas and Sylvia. Sandy and Soda certainly weren't, which hurt Evie the most; she and Sandy had been best friends since grade school, and then that happened, and it had hit Evie like a truck when she'd found out. Really, Evie had been hanging around Bridget and Ella and Cathy a lot more as of late. Sylvia had stayed over that one night a little while ago, but that was probably because she had just needed a place to crash. And Kathy had been hanging around the girls who associated themselves with the guys in her brother's gang more and more. Though, she had spoken to her a little while ago, and it seemed that the girl was still feeling scorned by Mathews, and she had some suspicions about who he was into…and suffice it to say that Evie didn't know quite how to feel when Kathy had told her who. And then when she'd seen them together the other day, they'd both made it pretty clear how they felt about this whole nomination business. Evie didn't particularly want to be nominated, but she knew it would be a whole lot worse if she dropped out. Like that wouldn't look suspicious as hell.

"I don't know," Evie admitted. "I don't know if we ever really were."

"But you and Sandy were."

"Yeah," Evie said quietly. "We were."

"Well, even if Ella is kinda a square, she seems real nice," Beth said, backtracking on her earlier statement. "And I heard you were hanging out with Cathy Carlson? I heard she's nice…her little brother, M&M, is cool. And I heard Steve mention someone named Bridget Stevens?"

Evie raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you talk to Steve?"

"I don't! And trust me, I don't wanna! I just overheard him saying something about her the other day when he dropped you off…he sure seems to hate 'er…I've seen her around school, though, and anyone who can afford that cute plaid dress she wore the other day must be alright."

Well, that was sound logic. "I wouldn't exactly call us friends. But she's alright." That was about what Evie's opinion of Stevens amounted to now: she was alright. And that's all it ever needed to be, right? They were like business partners. They didn't need to be the best of friends to make this work.

"I think I heard Daddy say he saw her father in one of the buildings he cleans," Beth went on. She sure was getting good at this whole eavesdropping business.

"How would you know that was who he was talking about?"

"Because," Beth drawled, and left her reasoning at that. "He seems to think he's a very stressed-out man."

That was just confusing. What would Dr. Stevens have to be stressed about? He had money; a good, real job; and his daughter already had a positive reputation. What would he have to be stressed about? What would anybody from that side of town have to worry about? They certainly didn't have to worry about the same things Evie's family had to. There was a big difference in fretting over a tear in a new dress when you have the money to replace it, and being devastated over a tear in an old dress because the most you can afford to do is try to patch it up.

"Holy cow, Ella!"

Evie snapped out of her thoughts and saw Ella standing shyly before the sisters, hands clasped in front of her. The dress had come out quite nicely, with the new hem coming up a few inches above Ella's knees. Pitch black and sleeveless with a high neck, Ella looked almost refined in it. Evie and Beth both stood up to inspect, while Ella tried not to squirm under their scrutiny.

"Well I'll be damned, Ella Mitchell!" Evie gasped. "Craig won't know what hit 'im!"

"You really redid the hem yourself?" Beth asked, and Ella nodded.

"It's not hard," she shrugged. "And it's not like I was going to wear this anywhere else, and it saved money."

"Ma, come lookit Ella's dress!" Beth called towards the kitchen as Evie continued to turn a circle around the girl, making sure everything was even. It was good work.

Mrs. Martin came out of the kitchen and nodded at Ella's dress. "Very nice. New?" She asked.

Ella shook her head. "Hemmed an old one."

Mrs. Martin looked impressed and walked over to do some inspecting of her own. Ella didn't know how much she could take from the three Martin women. "See, girls?" The girls' mother began, and Evie and Beth exchanged eye-rolls. "Repurposing can work just fine," she grinned, then leaned in and said to Ella confidentially (not), "Those two insisted they needed new dresses."

"It's my first real school dance!" Beth whined. Mrs. Martin waved her off.

"Oh, hush. You girls all look very nice," she said, and sauntered back into the kitchen. Evie turned back to Ella.

"You really look nice," she told her friend. "Seriously. And after we do your hair and everything, Craig won't be able to keep his hands off ya! And if you'd like, you could borrow a pair of my shoes. We look about the same size."

Ella looked to her bare feet, and after mentally going through her shoes, nodded. "That would be great," she grinned.

Evie smiled back, but there was also a pit in her stomach. It had nothing to do with Ella, but with what Beth and her mother had said. Talk of money had always unnerved Evie; she knew that they weren't necessarily the best-off, that nearly everyone she was friends with struggled. Since Steve's mother was out of the picture, Mr. Randle struggled financially, and Steve tried to help, but there was a new tension between them that hadn't always been there. And the Curtis brothers, they'd never really had money, but now Darrel worked two jobs, and Sodapop had dropped out to work fulltime. Two-Bit Mathews' mother worked relentlessly after her husband had up and left. Sylvia and Kathy and even Sandy had never had much. She was used to it. Evie knew the score. But that didn't mean she didn't try to ignore it sometimes. Like when she wanted a new dress just because. Girls like Bridget could get new dresses whenever she wanted, so excuse Evie if she didn't really care about her father being "a very stressed-out man."

But that didn't stop her from being curious.

Later that night, as her father was getting ready for work, Evie asked him if he'd heard of a Dr. Stevens working at the same university where he was a custodian. She mentioned that this would be his first semester, and a bit what he looked like. Her father thought for a moment before perking up just slightly and nodding his head.

"Yeah, think I've met the guy," he shrugged. "Works in one of the buildings I cover. Nice fella, seems to work late a lot." Something twisted in Evie's stomach when he said that. "Why ya ask, sugar?"

Evie swallowed. "I, uh, know his daughter. We're working together on something for school, and she mentioned something about it."

"Yeah, he's a good man," her father went on as he looked for his keys. "Teaches…history, or sum'im…yeah, nice guy. Talked to him once on one'a the nights he was in late, gradin' papers or somethin'. He's worried about his daughter cuz they just moved here and all."

"Oh," she whispered.

"You might give her a friendly word every now and then, since you know her."

"Alright," Evie said, her voice quiet. "Well, if you see 'im, tell him to say 'hi' to Bridget for me."

Her father nodded distractedly and kissed the top of her head, and he was off.

XXXXX

Vickie Harper was cool. Meaning, in this context, unflappable. (Vickie Harper was also just a bit diabolical, but that's not necessarily how she thought of herself.) So juggling a few different conversations at once and keeping her facts straight wasn't exactly her idea of a challenge. So Vickie picked up the phone and leaned back on her bed, phone held to her ear with her shoulder while she went to work filing her nails into that perfect squoval.

"What about Lucy?"

Cherry sighed on the other end of the line. "Probably not? I mean, people still remember that fiasco from over the summer at Peter Schmidt's party. Remember?"

Vickie made a face. Boy, did she remember that. "Yeah," she sighed. "Well, that's probably for the best, then."

"You know, it's just homecoming. It's really not a big deal. Not as big a deal as prom, anyways."

Vickie rolled her eyes. "Doesn't mean I don't want to win."

"Right," Cherry scoffed. "You know, everyone is saying that Evie Martin rigged it so that she was a nominee. You think that's true?"

Well, Vickie knew for a fact that it wasn't true, but she wasn't about to tell Cherry that, especially with Two-Bit Mathews getting suspicious, and that ditz Ella Mitchell. And Vickie knew what Cherry did earlier in the fall after Bob died, how she was their "spy." How much more ridiculous could she get? "Wouldn't surprise me. I mean, c'mon, a girl like that? She'll get whatever attention she can get, whenever she can get it."

"Yeah…I don't know, though…"

Vickie scowled, even though she had no one to direct it at except for at herself through her vanity mirror. "Ya know, I just remembered I told Bridget I'd call her…see you tomorrow!"

Cherry tried to stop her, but Vickie hung up and quickly dialed Bridget, hoping she'd pick up the phone and not her father. "Hello, Bridget Stevens speaking."

Bingo! Vickie grinned. "What's up, Bee Stevens?"

Bridget was silent for a moment. "Don't call me that. Two-Bit Mathews insists on calling me that – "

"I know," Vickie purred. "He's your number-one fan. Gonna give Jerry a run for his money."

"Yeah, sure. Do you need something, Vickie?"

"Can't a girl call her friend?"

"Well, of course she can…anything in particular on your mind?"

Vickie sighed. "Well, Cherry's really getting on my nerves…she seems to think that maybe Evie Martin wasn't the one who rigged the homecoming ballot."

Another pause. "Oh. Well, I mean, I'd heard the rumors...maybe she didn't?"

Suspicions confirmed. Vickie dropped her nail file and sat up straighter. "What would make you think that?"

"I don't know. I just don't have any proof."

"Well, just look at the sort of girl she is! That's proof enough. No matter what Two-Bit Mathews thinks."

Uh-oh. That was an unexpected slip-up. "You talked to him?"

"Not because I wanted to! He cornered me. Isn't that what he does to you?"

"I guess…" Bridget sighed. "Well, she probably won't even win. So. Yeah."

"Right." Vickie's blood was boiling. So not only were Mathews and Mitchell suspicious, but she was getting the feeling her beloved campaign manager was, too. "You know, some people think it's odd that you're on the ballot, too, being new and all."

Vickie could practically hear Bridget's shoulders slump. "Oh. To be fair, I was pretty surprised, too. It's a nice surprise, though. I wonder who would even nominate me."

"Yeah, me too."

Vickie could hear Bridget swallow roughly – yuck! "Right. It's a nice honor and all, but I probably have no chance of winning."

No. No, she really didn't.

XXXXX

Bridget knew when to ask for help. She knew it bothered some people, but not her. What bothered her was the situation; this wasn't just asking for help on a calculus assignment, or asking to have a section of a piano piece played for her so she could know what sound to aim for. No, this was all very different, much more…shrewd. Thankfully, she knew someone who had no qualms getting their hands dirty, so after school, she approached Two-Bit, who actually seemed glad to see her.

"You're gettin' pretty bold, Miz Stevens, approaching me like this," Two-Bit said, stance defiant but his expression betraying that.

"Oh, hush up," she said. Then, more sweetly, "Walk me to my locker?"

If she didn't know better, she'd say the surprised look on Two-Bit's face was accompanied with a faint blush. "Uh. Sure. Yeah," he said weakly, and walked with her.

"I have a question for you," Bridget said as she began spinning her combination.

"Shoot."

"Vickie told me you spoke to her the other day. Why?"

Two-Bit's expression darkened a bit. "Right. Well, I had to give her a talkin' to cuz I've got my suspicions she's the one got Evie nominated."

"And I can pretty much confirm that for you," Bridget said coolly, though Two-Bit noticed her shaking hands. "Speaking as her…friend, and all. She wouldn't spread that rumor if she wasn't trying to deflect suspicion – that's what Cherry said."

"Oh, well if Cherry says so…"

Two-Bit raised an eyebrow and smirked wryly, and Bridget returned it with a shaky smile. "I'm trying here, Two-Bit."

"I know you are."

"Are you going to take care of this?"

"Are you?"

"Again – trying. That's why I'm talking to you in the first place."

"But you'd rather I get my hands dirty while you orchestrate."

Bridget closed her eyes and sighed. "Don't say it like that. You make me sound like a crooked mob boss."

"Who's to say you're not?" He joked, and Bridget scowled. "Fine, fine. Look, don't worry about it – Randle is already on mine and Dally's asses about all this, so don't worry, okay? It's handled. Or, it will be. Trust me, I don't wanna see Clayton or Harper win any more than you do after this stunt." And for about a billion other reasons, too.

Bridget gave a short nod. "Good." She pulled out her Lit book, hoping to get some work done on her English project tonight – Dad was letting her use the typewriter. Lucy had really been dragging her feet, especially after she had found out the Bridget had gone on and read Candide. Bridget was stuck doing this project practically on her own. She sighed shakily.

"What's up?"

Bridget considered not telling him, but…he was her friend and all… "This is all just getting exhausting."

"What is?"

She gestured vaguely. "This. Vickie is wearing me out, and Evie…"

"That's another thing – why're you so concerned with Evie anyways?"

Bridget pursed her lips. "We're…acquaintances."

"Uh-huh."

"We are!" Bridget insisted. "But…but all of this is ridiculous, this entire fall. What with…with Bob and…and your friend…" Then, more quietly, "I didn't even want to come here in the first place."

Two-Bit bit his lip and watched this poor girl standing next to him. Of course, he'd never tell her that it's turned out that he's actually happy to have met her, but he got it. This whole fucking town…it was like some sort of disease. "Here's what we'll do." Two-Bit leaned up against the locker next to Bridget's, hands spreading before him as he launched into his grand scheme, eyeing the distance and grinning like the dickens. "You and I will skip out, hop into my truck, and run off, just you an' me, and find someone who'll marry us –"

"Two-Bit! I do not want to marry you!"

Two-Bit reared back as if he'd been hit, but he was smiling like he thought she was just the funniest damn person. "Oh, Bridget. You wound me! How could you even think of turning down such a decent proposal? You don't know how many more you'll get," He said sternly, wagging a finger in her face. Bridget playfully scowled.

"I'm sure I'll find somebody," she assured him. "Are you going to homecoming?"

"Homecoming?" Two-Bit repeated. "Hell no. I've just about had my fill of it."

"How's that?"

"Well, ol' Dally got into some trouble and got stuck on the design committee" – Bridget raised an eyebrow, and Two-Bit huffed – "I know. Anyways, he started bitchin' about it, so I says to him, 'Hey, I'll join ya, keep ya company,' which I don't think he fully appreciated, but what's done is done. It's all over and ready for ya now, peach. 'Sides, they mostly just used me for grunt work." Two-Bit then proceeded to roll up his sleeve and flex, and then actually grunted. Bridget laughed (which made him laugh), but yeah, she had to admit, he wasn't exactly a slouch. She shook her head, again marveling at the fact that she had a type. Two-Bit was built much the same as Jerry, who was Will Rogers' star quarterback. It confused her to no end.

"Unbelievable."

"I know!"

"No, not Dallas! You. You're such a bum, I don't see how you stay so…so…"

"So fucking ripped?"

Bridget slapped his arm hard, which sent Two-Bit into hysterics. "You should watch your mouth."

"Oh, yeah? Like you're a saint," he laughed. "Good God. Oh, I wasn't always a bum, Stevens, that gene didn't rear its ugly head 'til recently. These days, it prolly has somethin' to do with all the twerps I dole out beatin's to. You should see my buddy Darry, though. That guy's built like a brick house. Couldn't knock 'im over if ya tried."

Bridget finally closed her locker. They were alone at the end of the day, the two of them in this empty hallway, and he was grinning contentedly down at her, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the lockers. At that moment, Bridget recognized that even for as annoying as he was, he was really and truly her friend, and she didn't doubt that.

"You oughta take a picture, it'll last longer."

"Huh?"

Two-Bit bit his lip, trying and failing to cover up a grin. "You're staring, kid."

"Oh." She blushed. "Sorry."

"Aw, don't be. I know I'm a sight," he drawled. "Hey, can I give ya a lift? Since we're both on our way out, and all."

"Sure." Bridget didn't even think twice about it, just followed him. "Yeah, sure. Jerry has…" She sighed, "football, and I don't have to stay after today – "

"Hey, you don't have to justify it to me. If you want a ride, I'm willin', but the train's leavin' the station, peach."

So Bridget followed him out of the school and to his truck, wishing desperately for a car of her own (while also secretly hoping he'd never stop offering). "Two-Bit?"

He was busy putting on sunglasses and starting the car. "That's my name."

"Do you know who Angela Shepard is?"

Two-Bit was laughing before she even finished saying the mysterious girl's name. Bridget furrowed her brows in confusion – what was so funny about Angela Shepard? "Do I know who Angela Shepard is?" He repeated, still laughing. He was probably going to run them off the road the way he was going on. "You're real funny, honey – I knew I kept you around for a reason."

Bridget scowled. "I'm serious! Do you know who she is? Because she's supposed to come over to my house – "

Suddenly, things weren't so funny. Two-Bit shot her a look, trying to look at this poor, naïve girl next to him and the road at the same time. "You invited that li'l' vixen over to your house?"

"I didn't invite her – Evie Martin did."

"Why the hell is Evie invitin' people over to your house? Y'all ain't friends."

He went on to say something about how Angela was somehow dangerous, but Bridget crossed her arms and tuned him out. She wanted to tell him that wasn't true, that they were friends, that she and Cathy and Ella had come over to her house and they'd sat on her bed and talked about normal things – about fashion and music and boys and dances – and that they were, they were friends, that all that she was doing for this "salon" must be enough to get Evie's forgiveness, and all of their friendship. Because one day, Bridget knew, she may not lose Cherry or Marcia or Missy – God willing – but one day, Bridget would probably lose Vickie. And maybe that would be for the best, but she wanted someone waiting in the wings. Selfishly, so selfishly, she did not want to be alone ever again.

"I told you - I'm helping her with something," Bridget explained. "I offered up my house to do it at. She's doing a bunch of girls' hair. For homecoming."

At a stoplight, Two-Bit groaned and dramatically threw his head back and ran his hands through his hair. "Somebody call up Lyndon Johnson. We don't need no more troops over in Vietnam - come Saturday night, we gon' need 'em here."

XXXXX

Bridget didn't call Lyndon Johnson.

But she did call in reinforcements.

XXXXX

It was only her second visit, but Cathy knew that Bridget's house was the sort of place she could get used to being at. Going to Bridget's was probably like going to the Louvre, Cathy figured, with all the stuff that her father had. All those books and paintings and expensive-looking things…she could easily picture herself living in a house like this and being completely comfortable. Bridget had invited her and Ella over after school, and now Cathy and Ella were going up the front walk again. Evie was conspicuously missing.

"Do you think they're mad at each other again?" Ella asked.

Cathy snorted. "They stopped being mad at each other?"

"They weren't the other day…"

Ella just trailed off. Cathy knocked on the door; they could both hear music playing on the other side, something about a garden that wasn't such a paradise just a moment ago. Dr. Stevens again greeted them at the door, and he seemed to recognize them, too; he went ahead and told them to go upstairs where Bridget was. The two girls found her in her room, playing her own record. Dr. Stevens had been playing Kismet ("For some most mysterious reason, this is not the garden I know…"); Bridget was playing Irma Thomas. ("I'll never, never, breakaway from you!")

"Why didn't you invite Evie?" Cathy asked, right off the bat. Bridget sighed and stood up, turning off the record.

"Because we have to talk about her, that's why."

That would explain the urgent SOS both Ella and Cathy had received. Bridget had frantically made phone calls to each girl (she had been very frustrated when Mrs. Carlson picked up at first instead of Cathy), telling them to come over immediately. Bridget could be very no-nonsense and intimidating when she wanted to be, so Ella made quick time in getting over to the Carlson's and picking up her friend, probably breaking the speed limit on the way over to the west side.

Bridget flopped down on her bed with a long exhale. "I talked to Two-Bit Mathews today."

Cathy raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't like him."

Bridget stared at Cathy for a moment, nearly fessed up, but thought better of it. "He's…well, he's good in this sort of situation."

"What sort of situation would that be?" Ella asked. Bridget rolled her eyes.

"This whole situation," she said vaguely, gesturing around her with her hands. "With homecoming! I…well, he and Dallas Winston, they're cocksure that Vickie rigged the nominations to get Evie on the list. What none of us knows exactly is why."

Cathy snorted and found a spot at Bridget's vanity, and Ella awkwardly lowered herself into the rocking chair. "Of course we know why. Vickie knows what Evie's doing, with the hair and makeovers for the dance, and she knows that you're helping her and letting her do your hair, and she's mad about it," Cathy explained simply. Bridget sighed and started twirling a finger around a ringlet.

"I don't understand it here most days. I don't know how you all live in this limbo. I don't know why Vickie cares so damn much…even after…" Bridget pursed her lips; she really didn't understand. What made here different? There were poor and rich people everywhere you went. What did it matter? "Well, I guess that explains it," she sighed. "And I guess I knew that, probably."

"Probably," Cathy agreed, sounding wise beyond her years.

"So…you're not mad at Evie?" Ella asked. Bridget smirked.

"No," she assured the two girls. "I'm not. But I don't know what to do! Two-Bit said something vague about 'taking care of it', but I don't know what that means," Bridget explained miserably. "He didn't even know that I had suspicions of my own, you know?"

"Why don't you ask him and Winston to fix it so that you win?" Cathy suggested. "That way, Vickie doesn't get her way, and Evie won't get embarrassed."

"It's not that simple." Bridget smeared her hands down her face, and was mortified to realize that she was actually starting to cry. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. God, she thought (prayed?), can you let me get through one day? One fucking day? One day without having to deal with this overblown high school bullshit? But of course, she'd never say that out loud. "I started all this," she whispered into her hands.

Ella and Cathy exchanged confused, worried looks. That was ominous. "What did you say?" Ella asked, voice gentle.

When Bridget pulled her hands away from her face, both girls could see the tears rolling down her cheeks. But even when crying, Bridget seemed to be able to remain poised and unruffled. Talk about a (fairly) stiff upper lip. "I started all this," she repeated, voice thick. Then she nodded, like it was all coming together for her now. "Yeah, I did. If I had never been mean to Evie in front of everybody, this never would have happened."

Cathy was confused. This wasn't just Bridget and Evie who were in this, it was Cathy and Ella, too. "That's just not possible," she insisted. "Because we all still would have met each other."

"Maybe," Bridget allowed, "but then I wouldn't have felt guilted into paying for everything and letting her use my house."

There it was. It was out there, in the open now. Bridget's face crumpled a bit, and she bit back a sob, knowing that if her father heard her, he'd come barging in and start demanding details. Ella and Cathy sat there miserably, too, letting the statement sink in, wondering if all of this had been a façade after all, at least between Evie and Bridget, that things were getting better between them. Maybe they were being friendly just for business matters. Did she actually like any of them? Or was she just feeling guilty, and trying to make up for it? If Bridget had just said "I'm sorry", then none of them would probably be in this mess. Vickie would have left them alone, and everything could just be normal, as messed up as normal was.

"Why wouldn't you want to be homecoming queen?" Ella suddenly asked. Cathy and Bridget shot her odd looks. "Well, I mean, doesn't it feel nice to be nominated?"

"I guess…"

"Then why wouldn't it feel nice to win?"

Because then they'd all hate me. Vickie and Evie and Two-Bit and probably the two of you, too. "It's just…it's just a popularity contest," Bridget sneered. "Really, I don't care if I do or don't win, but people like Vickie want it more. That's how she is. Let her have it! And nobody knows me…they'd all just start whispering about how Bee Stevens pulled off the upset of the century."

"Bee?" Cathy snorted. "Who calls you that?"

"Two-Bit Mathews," Bridget said quietly. "But don't you go callin' me that, or I'll slug you." There was a tense beat of silence, but then Bridget smiled through her tears and the other two girls relaxed.

"But we can't let Vickie have it now," Ella said quietly, thinking back to the last unfortunate conversation she'd had with that firecracker. "Not after she cheated to get it, and not after trying to humiliate Evie."

"Bridget, I'm sure you could do something," Cathy implored. "Vickie seems to trust you, so maybe you should use that to your advantage."

"But there's only a couple days left to vote," Ella said. "And Vickie's rumor seems to have picked up a lot of traction already. What's left to do?"

Bridget ran her thumb over her lips as Cathy and Ella went back and forth, trying to find a plan to counteract Vickie's. Her thumb came away covered in glittery lip gloss. She thought of it all, of all these girls coming to her house on Friday and Saturday, of cheering at the game and riding in the convertibles and in the parade, and having to stand up on stage in front of nearly the entire student body and either have to endure the feeling of utter defeat of watching Vickie win, or the secondhand embarrassment of Evie winning. And she and Cherry and Lucy would stand by, helpless to it all. Bridget was happy enough being a homecoming princess, she didn't need to be queen. Vickie needed it for whatever reason – or maybe she just wanted it; thought she needed it. Nothing could be further from the truth, though; she didn't need it, would never need it.

She wouldn't need it in a million years.

"Bridget?"

Bridget looked up. "Hm?"

"There's nothing left to do…is there?" Cathy asked, looking hopeless. Bridget wanted to start crying again at the sight of her face.

"I don't think there is," Bridget whispered. "She'd never pass up winning, but…but she already got what she wanted. She got Evie nominated and framed her for it. She's already won."

Which felt like the biggest let-down of the century.

"Why can't you stop her?" Ella asked, sounding confused. "Why…why can't we stop her?"

"Because it's already done," Cathy answered for Bridget. "Like, I get it's not the end of the world, but…but Evie never deserved this."

Steve Randle is going to kill me, Bridget thought. He is going to pin this on me somehow, and he and Dallas Winston are going to kill me. Steve will have good reason to – Dallas will be there just for kicks. "Have either of you ever thought of telling your parents about this stuff?" Both girls shook their heads. "Because I sure have. It's like none of them notice unless it's brought to their attention! Vickie shouldn't be able to get away with something like this, and that whole fiasco with Bob Sheldon wouldn't have ever happened if any of them had just paid attention!" Bridget was getting heated. "But I can just picture it, me telling my father, and then him telling me that this is just what girls do, that this isn't important, but it is. It's important because Vickie wants to humiliate Evie. And what would he know, anyway?"

"My parents wouldn't get it," Cathy said. "But if what's happening to Evie was happening to me and I told my parents, my father would probably go off."

"My father is much too reasonable for anything like that," Bridget said, snorting at the thought of her father going off. "He'd probably just march down to the front office and demand to speak with Principal Vernon."

"That's still something," Ella said.

"What would your dad do?"

It got very silent for a moment. Cathy exchanged a look with Ella. Ella just looked up so she wouldn't have to look anyone in the eye. "I don't know my father," Ella whispered to the ceiling.

Well. This visit certainly wasn't anything like the last one, Cathy mused.

"I don't know my mother," Bridget said quietly in response.

Ella met Bridget's eyes. Those eyes of hers were saying something, too: I understand, Ella, and I understand that it's the worst feeling in the world. I understand what it means to be left behind, too. And I'm sorry I don't know what to do about any of this. I'm sorry I don't know how to fix this. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to know how. Cathy could read that, too, but instead Bridget said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

Ella shook her head. She knew her friend would understand when she said, "Don't be. There aren't any memories, anyway."

The air seemed to get sucked out of the room. Cathy and Ella could see that Bridget stood up, but it was like she was moving through water, and her voice sounded that way to Ella's ears when she again said that she was sorry, but she didn't know what to do. She just didn't.

XXXXX

Back in the day – "the day" being not so long ago, really, just late last year – the Curtis household could have any given combination of nine people in it at one time, give or take. A real hub of activity, the house was, for any number of reasons. But things change, and what used to be now almost never was. Dallas was avoiding the house like the plague – or, more accurately, like every member of the house had the plague, and he was either the next victim or the doctor in the strange mask that was coming to bleed them out, suck them dry, and leave them for dead, even if he meant no harm.

Things change.

"Wish it weren't rainin'," Soda observed, watching out the window. "Cruisin' just ain't fun when it's rainin'."

"So come play cards," Steve called, already two games in with Two-Bit. Oklahoma Gin was the favorite, though Steve had learned Euchre, a Midwestern staple, from his parents, and tried to get the guys in on it sometimes. None of them really went in for it. They were all notorious cheats, too, Two-Bit and Soda especially, even if they could play honest and clean up. It was just a way to pass the time. Because what the hell else were they supposed to do?

Soda sighed in defeat and joined the rest of them at the table. "Deal me in," he said, and they did.

Darry wasn't in the greatest of moods, either, the rain having canceled his work earlier in the day, but leaving him wide open to head in for his second job that evening. He couldn't decide if working all day or being teased with a day off was worse. And Steve, well, he was pissed about this whole homecoming fiasco with Evie and this Vickie Harper bitch. Vickie was sure getting under Two-Bit's craw, too, but not completely for Evie's sake – if he had to watch her boss around Bridget much longer, he might really have to throw hands with a chick. Then there was Ponyboy, who was blissfully unaware of just about everything, especially now that his mind could dwell on better things, like Cathy. It seemed the universe had cut the kid some slack – finally! So while Dallas was missing and Pony was off in one of his forty-six daydream universes, everyone else was just pissed.

"I've got a few minutes," Darry sighed as he sat beside his brother. "Deal me in, too."

Two-Bit obliged. "Glad to have ya, Darrel."

"Yeah, yeah."

The four of them played in near silence while Ponyboy sat on the floor in front of the fireplace with the comics spread out in front of him. The Peanuts gang sure had their hands full with Linus and his Great Pumpkin business. Pony shook his head and glanced over at the table of card players; he knew what it was like to have ridiculous friends.

"Y'all think it's kinda stupid to have homecoming the same weekend as Halloween?"

The four at the table glanced over at Ponyboy. Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. "What? Ya worried the Great Pumpkin won't stop by your patch if there's a football game in the way?"

While everyone else laughed, Pony just rolled his eyes. It was like he was living out his life perpetually at the kid's table in this proverbial Thanksgiving. "Homecoming's the twenty-ninth and thirtieth, dummy. Halloween's on Sunday."

"Well, my bad," Two-Bit sighed clearly not caring. "But Lordy, if Sadie plays You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown one more time, I'mma end the whole damn production."

"Happiness is morning and evening, daytime and nighttime too-oo-oo!" Sodapop sang, making himself laugh. "Which production?"

"Mine," Two-Bit snapped, then smacked his card down on the table. This rain seemed to be making everybody restless.

"Speakin' of homecoming," Steve began, "Two-Bit, did you and Dally, uh – "

"We're workin' on it," Two-Bit said shortly, glancing over at Steve. "Ponykid, you got any cigarettes?" Pony tossed him his pack, and the boys around the table lit up. Darry didn't, but he bummed a few drags off Soda's. The air above them turned blue in the dim, yellow light.

"What's Evie think about the whole thing?" Soda asked.

"Man, I don't know," Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair and then smearing it down his face. "I guess she's pissed, but…well, she's got this whole business goin' on top of it all – "

"Business?" Darry cut in.

"She's doin' a bunch of gals' hair and makeup or whatever before the dance. Friday night and Saturday afternoon at that soc girl's house."

"Bee Stevens?" Two-Bit 'guessed', remember his conversation from earlier with the girl and feeling the pit in his stomach grow. Steve snapped and pointed at him.

"Yeah, that bitch. She offered it up. Hell if I know why, they ain't friends. But she's been hangin' out on the west side, and now she's got this whole nomination…thing to deal with – "

"They're all gonna end up votin' for that Harper chick," Darry said tiredly, having seen a list of nominees in Janine Johnston's glorified gossip column, and knowing Vickie Harper's rep. "I don't see why you're so worried 'bout it."

Steve pursed his lips. "Hey, she's my girlfriend, ya hear? And I'll be worried about her if I wanna be, alright? And there ain't no way in hell she got on that list on her own. Nuh-uh. Vickie Harper put her on that list, and since Two-Bit and Dally have access to all that shit, they're the ones gonna fix this situation."

Two-Bit narrowed his eyes at his buddy. This whole goddamn situation was starting to really piss him off, and he was really regretting tagging along with Dallas on this one. Sure, it sounded like a great way to annoy Dally at first, but it was all turning out to be way more complicated than that. "So what the hell do ya want to happen, exactly?" Two-Bit asked, directing his gaze at Steve. "Seriously, what the fuck do you want us to do? We can't take her off now – the whole damn school knows she was nominated! They're sure as hell gonna notice if she ain't ridin' around in one'a those goddamned convertibles Friday night. So even if Dally and I make sure Harper don't win, whatta we do then? Huh? It's a fuckin' popularity contest, Stevie, so you can bet your ass that even if Harper don't get it, Evie sure won't either."

"I don't want her to!"

"It's prolly gonna be Cherry Valance or Bridget Stevens, then," Pony added, trying to be helpful, even though he really had no idea what was going on. Steve and Two-Bit's expressions darkened, and they both rolled their eyes.

"It's gonna be Cherry, then," Two-Bit mumbled around his cigarette, shuffling his cards. "Dal and I ain't fixin' it any further then what we're already doin'." Which was true – if Vickie didn't win, and Evie didn't win, then it would probably be Cherry. She was pretty popular on her own, but it would probably be a pity vote more than anything, what with her beau being dead and all.

The entire conversation, Darry and Sodapop had been ping-ponging back and forth, sitting back and listening as the game and the conversation went on. And hell, the table talk was more interesting than the game was, anyways. The brother had exchanged several looks; stuff like this almost made Sodapop sorry he left school. This was some good shit!

"Since when are y'all so concerned with homecoming?" Darry asked. "I mean, of all things. I know Two-Bit and Dallas are dumbasses and got themselves into this situation, but why the hell are the two of you so caught up in who wins what and who does whose hair and where they do it at?"

"Since now!" Steve snapped.

What Steve didn't know was that he wasn't the only one who cared. Because Two-Bit cared – he cared a lot. He cared enough about Bridget Stevens (and yes, even grumpy ol' Steve Randle) to fuck with something he couldn't care less enough, and for what – to have Vickie Harper and George Clayton and the rest of the jet set on his ass for all eternity? Sounded about right. And Dallas, too, cared in his own fucked up way. Because of course, George Clayton not winning homecoming king would certainly atone for everything that happened to not only Dallas, but to Johnny, too, and maybe even a little bit for what happened to the Curtises. And Ella Mitchell cared, and Cathy Carlson cared, and Bridget Stevens cared, because of course they cared. Hell, Cherry Valance had probably put two-and-two together by this point, and she probably cared.

And no matter whose plan this all went according to, by Saturday night, all of Tulsa would probably find a way to care about the 1965 Will Rogers High School homecoming.

That fucking football team. Two-Bit glared at Darry, who just raised confused eyebrows. "What'd I do?"

"Nothin' yet," Two-Bit hissed. "But you best watch yer ass."

Darry sighed and shook his head. "Whatever you say, Two-Bitch."

"Man, I thought y'all we're s'posed to be learning at school, not tampering with homecoming."

"Aw, shuddup, Sodapop. You ain't even been outta there a full year, don't go talkin' like you're some eighty-year-old man who had to walk five miles to get to school and went to school in a one-room schoolhouse and had to stand up in front of the entire class and recite Bible verses."

"Jesus H., Steve, just cuz your gramps only has one story don't mean you gotta rip 'im for it."

Steve glared at Two-Bit while the rest of them laughed, and that seemed to momentarily lift the tension. Then Steve sighed and sat back, throwing his cards on the table. "Two-Bit?"

"Yeah."

"You and Dally better take care of this, okay? Because I'm sick and tired of seein' how these clowns treat my girl."

Quiet again. Even Ponyboy, who usually couldn't stand Steve, felt sorry for him. Two-Bit could only nod. "Yeah, man. We're on it."

That is, as long as Vickie didn't have a contingency plan.

XXXXX

AN: "Stranger is Paradise" is from the 1954 Broadway play Kismet. Bee is listening to the song "Breakaway" by Irma Thomas. Sadie is Two-Bit's little sister from the Don't Think Twice series, and the song Soda sings is "Happiness" from You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown, which was still just a concept album in 1965. Of course, we own none of these!

Thank you all for sticking with us!