Day 44
George, technically I am done with Operation 45D. However, it just feels right to continue writing about the 45 days, despite finishing early. After this, you have one page left, and I just don’t know what I’m going to do without you. I feel like you have so much more potential that this, and it’s sad to think that you’ll eventually end up in the attic, full of my documentation of Operation 45D that no one will ever read unless I take you out one day for nostalgia’s sake.
“Still writing in George?” Breton asked, barging into my room after school.
“George,” I read aloud as I wrote, “I have found a new thing to add to the list. Breton must be taught manners.”
The annoying boy paid my words no attention, instead coming over to sit next to me on my bed, resting his head on my shoulder as he gave me a one arm hug.
“George,” Breton narrated, “I am bored.”
“You don’t need to tell George that,” I said, “he’s a journal, he can’t hear you.”
“How do you know he’s a he?” Breton wondered idly.
“Magic.” I looked up from George and made a face at my friend.
“Come on Georgie, let’s do something!” he whined.
“Like what?” I asked, closing my journal and setting the pen aside.
He thought about it, sitting up and looking around my room. Eventually, he spotted my laptop, which seemed to give him an idea.
“Let’s make a YouTube video!” he said excitedly, going over to the portable computer and bringing it back to me.
“Sure!” I agreed, logging into the laptop and clicking to open YouTube. “What will we make it about?”
Breton paused. “I guess we’ll just wing it,” he finally said.
“Works for me,” I shrugged. “Are we going to use my account, or yours? Or should we make a new one?”
“We’ll use mine,” he told me. “Making a new one means a new email to check.” I passed the computer to him so he could log in, and then he set it on my bessie table, opening the camera and setting it to video.
“Ready?” he asked, looking back at me.
“Sure,” I answered, nodding to him.
Breton clicked record, and sat down in the three seconds the timer gave him.
3,2,1…go!
“Hey world, I’m Breton, and this is Georgie,” Breton announced.
“Hi,” I waved.
“Today we are going to…” Breton stopped and looked around, “we are going to read Georgie’s journal to you!” He grabbed George and waved it in front of the camera.
“We are?” I asked.
“You are,” he nodded. “I am going to comment on each entry.”
I frowned, looking at him in confusion.
“I have a plan,” he told me softly, “trust me.”
So I opened George up to the first page and began to read. As I read, Breton told me - and the internet - what he thought about the events that happened. For the first time, I got to hear all of Breton’s thoughts about Operation 45D, all the way from the beginning to this point, me reading it all.
“She’s a little crazy,” Breton said when I finished talking, about an hour later. “She’s naive, very unobservant. She’s funny, and small, and beautiful, smart and kind. She’s compassionate, and fierce.
“Georgie is a helper, and a warrior, a fairy princess who loves to cuddle and a dragon afraid of nothing.
“I love her exactly the way she is,” Breton said to the camera. “And so I was wondering..” he turned to me, “Georgia Talbot, will you be my girlfriend?”
“If I say yes, can we share your car?” I asked, voice choked with emotion.
He kissed me, cutting off any further questions I might have had.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” he whispered, kissing me again.
“Me too,” I told him with a laugh. "But did you really have to make a YouTube video to ask me?"
Apparently, when you’re a couple, you have to do couple-y things. Breton kissed me like, a billion times that day. And held my hand a lot. And hugged me, and touched my hair any chance he got.
He stayed over for dinner, and my mom made homemade cheesy oven-baked macaroni, which is usually reserved for special occasions. We all talked and I told my mom that we were dating. She just casually mentioned she had a feeling we were, and that was that. Of course, I was prepared to get a whole talk later that night.
“Thanks for coming over, Breton,” I said after dinner as we stood at the front door.
“Thank you, Georgie,” he told me, bending down for a kiss. I obliged.
“Goodnight,” I said softly.
“‘Night,” he replied. We stood there for a minute until I snapped out of it.
“Right, right, you’re leaving. Okay, thank you for coming over, bye, goodnight, I said all of that…” I trailed off, noticing Breton’s grin.
“What?” I asked self-consciously.
“I just like that you’re not…changing,” he answered.
“I’m never going to change,” I assured him.
“Good,” he told me, hugging me one last time. “Goodnight Georgie, I love you.”
“Ditto,” I teased. He grinned and walked out the door.
“Ditto?” my mom inquired behind me. “That’s what you’ve got? Ditto?”
“Don’t judge!” I scolded jokingly.
“My little baby, all grown up,” she said. “I guess that means you can give me the talk we’re about to have.”
“You know, that would be really enjoyable,” I assured her, “really I’d like that. But I’m going to trust that you’re mature enough to know what you’re doing, and all the temptations involved in being a relationship at your age. I know when it comes down to it, you’ll do the right thing.”
“Nice try, daughter mine,” my mom told me, “but we’re still having the talk.”
I groaned, following her into the main room where we proceeded to review everything I already knew about the temptations of a relationship and how it’s better to wait.
“Mom,” I said, “I believe in waiting until marriage. And Breton and I aren’t even close to that point in a relationship yet.”
“Better safe than sorry,” she sang. “Make sure you-“
“Don’t say it!” I shrieked. “If anything happens, I will, I promise!”
“I was just going to tell you to make sure you talk it through with Breton before anything happens. And remember that you live with your mother, who is home when you are. And Mrs. Joel works from home most days, while Mr. Joel is usually tinkering away on his hobby downstairs.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I moaned. “I will sufficiently avoid the topic for the rest of my life.”
She seemed satisfied. “Then my work here is done. Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Goodnight Mom,” I muttered. “Love you.”
“Ditto,” she laughed.
“Moooommm,” I groaned as she climbed the stairs, laughing at me. When I thought it couldn’t get worse, Breton texted me.
From: Breton
I’ve just thought of this. Maybe “ditto” will be our always
To: Breton
No. Please, stop the torture.
From: Breton
I “ditto” you
To: Breton
You’re mean
From: Breton
But you ditto me
To: Breton
No. I love you. Drop the ditto. Drop it.
From: Breton
Fine. Only because I love you too.
~~
It's shorter, but this is what I've got.
Photo on the side is an amazing cover done by Wonder-ful, so this chapter's dedication is for Megan a.k.a Wonder-ful. Thank you!!
The story is almost over! Two chapters - possibly three - and an epilogue!