Date: December 2, 1989 (Saturday).
Location: The Cooper House.
Event: The Post-Game Recovery / Unexpected Guests.
The Cooper house was not designed for guests. It was designed for arguments, brisket, and Sheldon's strict bathroom schedule.
I was lying on the couch, my leg propped up on three pillows. The swelling in my ankle had gone down slightly, but it still looked like a rotten grapefruit wrapped in duct tape.
Mary was currently vibrating with anxiety. She was vacuuming the same spot of carpet for the third time.
"I don't understand why you invited them, Georgie," Mary shouted over the roar of the Hoover. "People from Highland Park do not come to Medford unless they are lost or buying a horse! They probably think we live in a barn!"
"They invited themselves, Mom," I said, flipping through a magazine. "And they're just people."
"Rich people," Meemaw said from her armchair, knitting a scarf with aggressive speed. "Which means they judge. If she looks at my plastic couch covers funny, I'm tripping her."
"Please don't trip the guests, Connie," Mary sighed, finally turning off the vacuum. The silence was deafening. "I just don't want them thinking we're... well... us."
Sheldon walked into the living room holding a can of Lysol.
"I have sanitized the doorknobs," Sheldon announced. "However, I cannot vouch for the microbial integrity of the visitors. Rich people travel, and travel introduces foreign pathogens. Did you know the bubonic plague traveled on trade ships?"
"Sheldon, put the Lysol away," George Sr. groaned from his recliner. He was hiding behind a newspaper, hoping if he stayed still enough, the rich people wouldn't see him.
"They're here!" Missy yelled from the window, pressing her face against the glass. "Oh my gosh. Is that a spaceship?"
It wasn't a spaceship. It was a Mercedes-Benz 560 SEC. Black, sleek, and polished to a mirror shine. It looked ridiculous parked next to Dad's rusty truck.
Mary frantically smoothed her apron. She looked like she was about to face a firing squad.
"Oh Lord," Mary whispered. "Here we go."
***
The Arrival
The doorbell rang. Mary waited exactly three seconds (to not look desperate) and opened it.
I expected an entrance. I expected attitude.
Instead, I got sunshine.
Serena van der Woodsen walked in wearing jeans that cost more than our car and a cashmere sweater that looked softer than a cloud. Behind her was a boy—slimmer, younger, looking terrified.
"Mrs. Cooper!" Serena beamed, walking straight to my mother. She didn't offer a stiff handshake; she offered a warm, disarming smile. "Thank you so much for letting us drop by. The drive was murder, and I told Eric, 'If Mrs. Cooper doesn't have sweet tea, I might faint.'"
Mary froze. The "Judgment Wall" she had built instantly crumbled.
"Oh," Mary blinked, flustered. "Well... I just made a fresh pitcher. Would you like some?"
"I would love some," Serena said. She looked around the living room. "You have a lovely home. It feels so... warm. Our house feels like a museum. If you touch a coaster, a maid appears out of nowhere to fix it."
She turned to Meemaw.
"You must be the grandmother," Serena said. "Georgie said you're the one who taught him how to play poker."
Meemaw's eyes narrowed. She was holding her knitting needles like daggers.
"He told you that, did he?" Meemaw grunted. "Did he tell you I usually win?"
Serena laughed—a genuine, bell-like sound. "He said you fleeced him for his allowance last week."
Meemaw smirked. She put the needles down. "Alright. I like her. You want a cookie, blondie?"
"Yes, please," Serena said.
I watched from the couch. It was masterful. In under sixty seconds, she had neutralized the two most dangerous women in Medford.
She walked over to me. Her smile softened into something real.
"Hey, Statue," she said.
"Hey, Trouble," I replied. "You realize you're in Medford, right? The air quality here is 50% cow manure."
"It smells like freedom," she teased. She gestured to the boy behind her. "This is my brother, Eric."
***
The Kids' Table
Eric van der Woodsen was about twelve. He had the same blond hair as Serena, but none of the confidence. He looked like he wanted to disappear into the carpet. He was clutching a backpack like a shield.
"Hi," Eric whispered.
"Eric," I said. "Kitchen is that way. Cookies are good. And if you see a kid in a bowtie, don't be alarmed. He's harmless unless you ask him about trains. Or gravity. Or why toast lands butter-side down."
Eric wandered toward the kitchen.
He found Sheldon sitting at the table, organizing his cereal boxes by fiber content.
Eric stopped. He stared at the stack of comic books on the corner of the table. Then he slowly unzipped his backpack.
"I... I brought something to read," Eric said shyly.
He pulled out a plastic-bagged comic.
Sheldon looked up. His eyes bulged. He dropped his spoon.
"Is that... Uncanny X-Men #129?" Sheldon gasped. "The first appearance of Kitty Pryde?"
"Yeah," Eric said. "And the start of the Dark Phoenix Saga. I have the whole run in my bag."
Sheldon stood up. He looked at the comic, then at his own worn-out copy of a lesser issue. For the first time, Sheldon looked genuinely jealous.
"It is in Near Mint condition," Sheldon whispered, trembling slightly. "The corners... they are sharp enough to cut glass. My mother will not purchase back-issues for me. She says they are 'dust collectors.'"
"My mom says they're clutter," Eric said, smiling a little. "But I keep them in Mylar bags."
"Mylar!" Sheldon breathed. "Archival quality protection. You are a serious collector."
Sheldon pulled out a chair. "Please. Sit. Do not let the sunlight hit the ink. We must discuss John Byrne's artwork immediately."
Missy walked in, holding a Dr Pepper. She looked at Eric, then at his clothes.
"You're the rich kid?" Missy asked bluntly.
Eric flinched. "I guess."
"Cool," Missy said. She sat down backwards on a chair. "Is it true you guys have a butler?"
"We have a house manager," Eric admitted. "Her name is Magda. Well, she's a maid, but she runs everything."
"Does she wear a uniform?" Missy asked.
"Yes."
"Does she call you 'Master Eric'?"
"No," Eric laughed nervously. "She mostly tells me to clean my room in Polish."
Missy grinned. "I like him. He's rich, but he's sad. That's my favorite kind of character on TV."
For the next hour, the impossible happened. Eric, the lonely boy who was ignored by his socialite mother, found his tribe. He was the only person in the world who had the comics Sheldon wanted, and the only rich kid Missy didn't hate. He was laughing.
***
Roots and Wings
In the living room, the adults had relaxed. George Sr. had come out of hiding and was actually telling Serena a story about a fishing trip.
Serena sat on the edge of the coffee table, looking at my ankle.
"So," she said, her voice dropping so only I could hear. "The doctor says you're grounded."
"For now," I said. "But I can still throw. I just can't run away."
"You never run away, Cooper," she said softly.
She looked over at the kitchen, where Eric was loudly arguing with Sheldon about whether Superman could beat Thor.
Serena smiled, but her eyes looked a little sad.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For Eric," she said. "He... he doesn't have friends back home. The kids at his school are cruel. If you don't wear the right shoes, you're invisible. Here... nobody cares about his shoes. They care about his comic books."
"That's Sheldon," I chuckled. "He judges you on your IQ and your inventory."
"My mom is in Houston," Serena confessed. "Some gala for the Arts. She didn't even notice we left. She thinks Eric is in his room and I'm shopping."
"Lily?" I asked.
"Lily," Serena nodded, rolling her eyes. "She thinks Eric needs to go to boarding school in Switzerland to 'toughen up.' She doesn't get him. She thinks he's broken because he's quiet."
"He's not broken," I said. "He just hasn't found his team yet."
Serena looked at me. There was a shift in her eyes. She wasn't looking at the football player or the business partner. She was looking at the person.
"You're lucky, Georgie," she said. "This house... it's loud. It's messy. Your dad is drinking beer at noon and your grandmother just threatened to trip me."
"I know," I sighed. "It's a circus."
"It's a home," she corrected me. "I'd trade the museum for the circus any day."
She leaned in closer.
"That's why you're going to win," she whispered. "You have something to fight for. The guys back home? They're just fighting for their inheritance."
I grinned. "You calling me scrappy?"
"I'm calling you real," she winked. "Don't let it go to your head."
***
The Invitation
As the sun started to set, the mood in the house was lighter than it had been in weeks. The tension of the Lufkin game had faded, replaced by the smell of fried chicken.
"Hey," I called out to the kitchen. "Sheldon! What's the plan for tonight?"
Sheldon marched in, looking serious. "Tonight is the scheduled session of Dungeons & Dragons. However, we require a balanced party. Tam is unavailable due to a family engagement at the Happy Palace."
Eric stood up. He looked at Serena, pleading with his eyes.
"I... I've played D&D before," Eric said. "I'm a Level 4 Elf Rogue."
Sheldon's eyes widened. "A Rogue? We are in desperate need of a Rogue to handle traps! My Paladin keeps walking into pit falls!"
Eric looked at Serena. "Can we stay? Please?"
Serena looked at Mary.
"Oh, stay for dinner!" Mary insisted, wiping her hands on a towel. "It's just fried chicken and mashed potatoes. It's not fancy, but it's hot."
"We would love to," Serena said. Then she looked at me. "But I've never played Dungeons & Dragons. I don't think I'd be very good at it."
"Nonsense," I said. "You're perfect for it."
"What class would I even be?" she asked.
I looked at her—the girl who walked into a strange house and charmed everyone in five minutes.
"A Bard," I said. "Definitely a Bard. High Charisma. Talks their way out of everything. Inspires the team."
"A Bard," Serena grinned. "I like it. Do I get a lute?"
"We can imagine the lute," Sheldon interjected. "Imagination is efficient."
I grabbed my crutches and hoisted myself up.
"Alright," I said. "Let's kill some dragons."
[Quest Update: Social Links]
* Serena van der Woodsen: Ally Confirmed. (She fits the family).
* Eric van der Woodsen: Befriended by the Twins (Sheldon respects his collection; Missy likes his tragic backstory).
* Mary & Meemaw: Neutralized by Charm.