I have retrieved you from the depths of my closet for an important purpose, and you must serve me well. I’m trusting you, George 2. (Hey, that rhymes!)
Today is Day 53, a.k.a. Halloween. Breton has been saved (because you didn’t know that yet) and we’re dating now, and everything is good.
Except Dallas’ life, because he’s moving across the country. But I went with him to have a talk with his parents, and they were completely okay with him, they were worried he would hate them, and so didn’t try to talk to him to give him more space after the time they needed more space. A literal case of miscommunication, because they had no communication.
I’m really not in the mood to tell you more than that, so fill it in with your imagination, George 2. Wait! I’ll start!
Once upon a time, Breton is still a bad boy at school.
I know, those tenses don’t work together, George 2, but you’re just a journal, you can’t judge me for my story telling abilities.
Anyway, Breton’s still a bad boy, I’m still a nerd, although less of a nerd. I’m not bullied anymore, and I’ve started a support group for bullied individuals in my school and my cousin is doing the same in her school because I can’t because I don’t go there. Peter is also still a bad boy, and a single pringle, a macho man, a butcher, a baker, and a candlestick maker. (Well, only the first two after ‘bad boy’, I got carried away a little.)
You already know about Dallas because I just wrote like a whole paragraph up there. He’s still with Lucas, for now. They aren’t going to try the long-distance thing, because Lucas says that it’s not really “his type of thing” but for now they’re still going strong. Speaking of Lucas, he is officially an unofficial member of My Boys. (That’s what I call our group, Georgie’s Boys. They don’t know, which makes it funnier.) He’s okay, once you get used to his weird ways. The dude likes ketchup on his sandwiches, did you know that? Ew. But he’s kind of like Peter, he’s a softie inside. Deep, deep, deep inside.
Currently, Breton and I are trying to think of a funny couples’ costume. And I have the greatest idea ever.
A bad boy and a nerd. Am I right, George 2, or am I right?
Obviously, I’m right. Breton’s a bit upset though, because I want to be the bad boy. But it’s not like he’s not a nerd, because he totally is. I am too, yes, but he also gets to be a bad boy almost every day, and I don’t, which is totally unfair.
“You’re still keeping track?” Breton asked, reading over my shoulder and noticing day fifty-three.
“I sort of have every day on my calendar marked down as a day in Operation 45D, because I missed it so much. It does until day two-seventy-five, which is graduation day,” I admitted.
“Wow,” Breton mouthed. I nodded in agreement.
“So, what’s this notebook then? George is all out of pages,” my boyfriend asked.
“This is George Two, the replacement George from when you were reading George and I still needed to keep track of everything,” I explained.
“And what are you telling George Two?” he wondered.
“That I should be the bad boy.”
Breton chuckled. “How about, you can be the bad boy if you can make a better ‘bad boy’ face than me?”
“Bring it,” I challenged, standing up and preparing myself.
“Right. We show each other our bad boy faces, and the first to crack loses,” said Breton.
I nodded. “Got it. Three, two, one…”
“Go!” we shouted at the same time.
I immediately morphed my face into my best bad boy expression, a serious face with a slight bad boy glare and just a hint of a smirk, while Breton basically just dropped into a serious expression.
“George wins,” commented Dallas as he walked into the room. I didn’t even twitch, which I was proud of myself for.
“What makes you say that?” countered Peter, following Dallas.
“Do you see that face? It’s like she was born to be sassy. Breton just looks bored,” Dallas explained.
“Yeah, but the classic bad boy face is boredom,” Peter countered, rolling his eyes as he sat on my bed. “Breton’s a bad boy. He’ll win.”
I cocked a hip and raised an eyebrow at Breton, my arms crossing expertly. “What do you think, Breton? Do you think you’re going to win?”
“Ooh, trash talk,” Peter said, leaning forward, “now it’s getting good.”
“That depends on what Breton’s comeback will be,” Dallas pointed out.
Breton didn’t have a comeback. His face twitched, and then he sneezed.
“I win!” I cried, jumping up and down.
“No!” my boyfriend protested.
“Yes!” I yelled. “Because you said ‘the first to crack loses’ and you lost!”
Breton tried to defend himself. “I sneezed! That shouldn’t count.”
“Too dang bad, so very sad,” I said in a fake-sympathetic voice.
Peter looked up from whatever exactly he was doing on my laptop. “I don’t think a sneeze should count. So technically, you lose Georgie, for breaking character first.”
“First of all, what are you doing on my laptop, and where did you find it?” I asked him.
“Secondly, we did not set any specific guidelines on our little contest aside from the ‘first to break loses’ thing, which does not include room for technicalities. By Breton’s own rules, I win fair and square, meaning I get to be the bad boy for Halloween,” I pointed out.
“Georgie’s right,” Dallas piped up.
Breton grumbled, but he gave in eventually, much to Peter’s dismay and my great joy.
“I get to be a bad boy! I’m going to look so awesome! This Halloween is going to be epic! I can’t wait for trick-or-treating!” I cheered, bouncing around the room.
“Whoa, whoa, what?” Dallas asked, stopping me from jumping onto him back.
I decided to sum it up for him. “Bad boy, awesome, epic, trick-or-treat.” I bounced up and down in place, nearly vibrating. “This is gonna be fun!”
The boys all exchanged looks, and then huddled up, speaking softly to one another as I twirled around them.
“I get to be a bad boy!” I sang over and over. After a minute, I stopped spinning and fell back onto my bed, watching the ceiling rotate above my head until my dizziness wore off.
“This is going to be so much fun,” I sighed. “I’ve never gone trick-or-treating with other people before.
“Well, I have, because in elementary school my friends and I had the greatest costumes. But then in middle school they didn’t want to go out anymore and started going to parties, but I was never really invited so I still went trick-or-treating. I mean, it’s free candy! And then in my freshman year I promised myself I’d trick-or-treat until my senior year, unless I couldn’t think of a good enough costume. Because a teenager trick-or-treating without a good costume is creepy, let’s be honest here.
“But we have costumes this year! And I’m gonna be a bad boy, and Breton will be a nerd, and I don’t know what Dallas and Peter are going to be, and I’m talking to myself again!” I groaned and slapped myself on the forehead. “Bad Georgie. Remember your school year resolution.”
I looked up at the boys to see them staring guiltily at me. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Let’s not talk about that,” Peter winced. “Let’s talk about your school year resolution. What is that, exactly?”
I knew he was trying to change the subject, but school year resolutions were so fun to explain.
“You know how everyone usually has one big resolution for the new year?” I asked rhetorically. “Well, by that time, school is ending in a few months and then it’s summer, and by the time school restarts, no one remembers their resolution anyway. So I make school year resolutions, something I really want to try and do during the school year,” I explained. “Because it’s a school year resolution, I don’t have to worry about forgetting it in the summer. Over the course of the nine months we receive our eduction, I try to stick to my resolution that I specifically designated for the school year. Ta-da! School year resolution.
“I have a few this year. Do not talk to myself, make some friends, get out of the house more, and do one significant thing,” I finished.
“Those are all very nice resolutions,” Peter told me. “I have one too. I told myself that this year I would go to a Halloween party with all of my friends.”
I gave him a look. “That’s weird. That’s the one big thing you wanted to do this school year?”
“Says the girl who wanted to stop talking to herself!” he retorted defensively.
I stuck out my tongue at him.
“Alright, how about we just take a step back here,” Breton said, pulling me away from Peter and onto his lap.
“He’s being mean to me,” I pouted to my boyfriend.
Breton sighed and instructed Peter to, “Stop bullying Georgie.”
For a minute, everything froze.
Then I looked up at Breton in confusion. “Wait a second, is Peter trying to say that you all want to go to a party instead of trick-or-treating?”
A few hours later and we were almost all in costume. I was wearing one of Breton’s flannel shirts with a black long sleeve V-neck shirt under it, along with a pair of dark jeans (ripped at one knee), and my TARDIS blue converse. The flannel’s sleeves were rolled up to my elbows, leaving the black shirt visible along the rest of my arms. My hair was tied up in a ratty side pony tail and I wore a bandana like a headband. Breton had drawn a few little stars on my neck and collar bone with Sharpie, so they looked like a tattoo, and then another little design on my inner wrist. A few string bracelets, and I declared myself ready.
Peter disagreed, and called Hayley. She came over not even five minutes later, armed with a large bag.
“What’s in there?” I asked warily.
“Makeup,” she replied.
“WHAT?!”
“Hold still,” Hayley commanded, and proceeded to color all over my face.
When she was finished, I didn’t look that bad. Dark mascara, black and silver eyeshadow, dramatic eyeliner, and some dark red blush made me look more mean than I am.
“I love it,” I declared.
“I don’t,” grumbled Breton. He was sitting on a chair next to me, watching the transformation.
“You don’t like my costume?” I asked, slightly hurt. “I guess it’s not too late for me to be the nerd…”
“You look amazing,” Breton told me, “but I prefer your other look.”
“Cliché line alert,” Dallas called, pulling himself away from Lucas. Now that Hayley was here, we were a crowd of six people. Thankfully we had moved out of my room long ago and were not comfortable in Breton’s living room.
“That was cliché,” I agreed, “but still cute.”
Breton groaned. “I’m not cute.”
“Fine,” I shrugged, still totally disagreeing with him.
He wore a Marvel shirt featuring the Avengers, along with a pair of dark jeans that were kind of like mine, but in a men’s style cut. His hair was a mess on the top of his head from how many times he had run his hands through it while Hayley was working on my face. A pair of fake glasses perched on his nose, and the frown on his face was absolutely adorable. He wore a pair of converse like mine, but bigger. My boyfriend, whether he likes it or not, is cute.
“I still think he should wear suspenders,” Lucas said. “Aren’t suspenders like a typical nerd thing?”
“Way to give in to stereotypes, Lucas,” I replied. “Although we totally would have gone with suspenders, except we couldn’t find any for nerd boy.”
“Can I please wear a jacket?” whined the nerd boy we were talking about.
I grinned. “I have something better.”
“An oversized zip-up hoodie declaring that I’m a professional fanboy?” Breton asked, holding up the sweatshirt.
“Merry early Christmas!” I said brightly.
He looked at me in confusion. “Why is this a Christmas present?”
“It matches mine.” I pointed to my closet, and my oversized zip-up hoodie that announced “I’m a professional fangirl” and matched Breton’s.
Breton continued to ask questions as he slid his arms through the sleeves. “What if I don’t wear this in public ever again after tonight?” He zipped it up and checked the size.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I told him honestly. “I just thought it would be fun. Plus, these sweatshirts are really warm.”
“Wouldn’t it be a waste of money?” he wondered, putting his hands in the pockets and looking at me.
“I don’t consider it a waste. We can match now. And they’re warm, and extra large for comfort, and…” I trailed off. “You don’t have to wear it. Really, I promise my feelings won’t be hurt.” I reached to take the hoodie off of him, but he stopped me.
“I like it. And it goes with my costume,” he said. “But now you need a jacket to match yours.”
I was confused, but a few minutes later we were back in his house and he was pulling a leather jacket out of the closet.
“You actually own a leather jacket?” I laughed.
He helped me into the large jacket. The end fell closer to the back of my knees than my hips, but I liked it.
“Fabulous,” I commented.
“It completes your look,” Breton agreed, giving me a quick kiss. “Ready?”
“Yup! Let’s go get everyone else!”
Hayley wasn’t coming with us, instead going straight to the party, so she took a few pictures of us, laughed, and left. My mom and Breton’s parents also took photos like it was prom night and not Halloween. They were going to stay in and have their own celebration while handing out candy. Everyone double-checked their costumes, and finally we headed out.
Dallas and Lucas were going as Tom and Jerry, the cartoon cat and mouse from TV. “You can’t be the only couples costume,” they told Breton and I. Whatever, copy cats. Our idea is better.
Peter was Batman. He insisted everyone call him Batman, and so we did. He has these foam Bat weapon things to throw at us when he felt like it, and he enjoyed playing with his cape, swishing it around him dramatically.
“What if Batman is actually a vampire that can’t fly, and so that’s why he’s a super hero now? His real tragic backstory is that his parents died trying to keep him from people who wanted to experiment on him, and so now he tries to save people like his parents instead of being a vampire, because his parents wouldn’t have wanted him to go around sucking people’s blood,” he asked halfway through our trip.
“That’s stupid,” I told him, and proceeded to ignore everything else he said regarding Vampire Batman.
Breton and I were obviously a nerd and a bad boy. A few people commented on our costume, calling us adorable, which made me smile. Breton seemed to be trying to do a grin-and-bear-it sort of thing.
George 2, in case you couldn’t tell, we’re trick-or-treating. Peter didn’t want to, but we ended up compromising. We’re trick-or-treating our way to the party! Smart, right? Breton came up with the idea. So we get free candy and a party, and our costumes work for both. I love Halloween.
“What’cha doing?” Breton asked, leaning down slightly so he could see me better. It had been getting darker for a while now, making it harder to see.
“Writing in George Two,” I told him, putting my journal back in my trick-or-treat bag.
“By the time we get to this party it will be over,” Lucas complained.
“But… free candy!” I said. Everyone laughed.
Lucas was wrong. We reached the party as it was “getting good”, according to Peter. Dallas and Lucas immediately vanished to do who-knows-what, while Peter found a few people he had never met before and proceeded to meet them. Breton and I stood awkwardly until a few members of his group, JB and Frank, found us.
“Your costumes are great!” JB yelled.
“Thanks!” I yelled back.
“You two should dance!” she shouted.
“What?” I wondered, turning to Breton to see if he could hear her.
“Dance,” he said in my ear.
I nodded, and he pulled me away from Frank and JB, who were now making out.
“I don’t really like parties,” I said to Breton as he found a quieter spot for us to dance.
“Me neither,” he admitted.
After a few minutes of awkward dancing, I had an idea. Standing on tip-toe, I whispered my plan into Breton’s ear. He grinned and nodded, allowing me to ride on his back as we found our way through the crowd and to the front door. Pulling out his cell phone, Breton dialed a number and said a few words, and then we waited.
Finally, the cab pulled up and took us home. Breton paid the cabbie, who then sped away leaving us standing in front of my house.
“Come on!” I urged, pulling him through the front door and into the main room. Quickly, I claimed an area as mine.
Breton sat in his area, and together we dumped out our candy bags. Sorting and counting the candy took a while, but It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown was on TV and we made conversation.
“I can’t believe people gave us candy,” Breton said, counting up his Kit-Kats.
“I can,” I replied, tallying my Twix.
When we were done, the candy was sorted into piles and we each had our final number.
“Five-hundred-twenty-six,” I announced. “How about you?”
“Five-hundred-fifteen,” he said. “Why did you get more than me?”
“Obviously, it’s because my costume is better,” I teased. “Come on. Are you ready to play?”
He nodded, and so I dealt the cards. A minute later, the game began.
“Got any sevens?” I asked.
“Go fish,” Breton replied triumphantly. Currently, he was winning with eight pairs. I had five.
Picking up the card, I muttered, “Dang.”
“Got any fives?” Breton wondered.
“Stupid boyfriends and stupid go-fish,” I groaned, handing over the card I had just drawn. “My turn. Any aces?”
This time, he frowned and passed me a card. The score was now nine to six.
We passed more cards back and forth, and drew from the middle pile until there wasn’t any cards left.
“Time to tally it up!” I announced, counting my pairs. 1,2,3,4,5…9,10,11! “I’ve got eleven!” I cried.
“Sorry darling, I have fifteen,” Breton said.
“You’re not sorry at all,” I groaned. “Alright, pick four.” I gestured reluctantly to my piles of candy. He chose four pieces: a Butterfinger, a Kit-Kat, a Milky Way, and a pack of Sweet Tarts.
The rules were simple. We play Go Fish. Whoever won got to pick candy from the other person’s stash. The amount of candy was determined by the difference in scores.
We played three more games. Breton won again, and then I won twice in a row.
“This is fun,” he commented later as we cuddled on the couch watching random movies that were on the television.
“Yeah,” I replied. “It is.” I unwrapped another piece of candy. “Do you think Peter’s mad that we ditched the party?”
Breton glanced at his phone, which we had turned off hours ago to avoid to angry buzzing. “Nah.” He tilted his head to kiss me. “Mm, chocolate.”
“I know, right?” I avoided him as he tried to kiss me again, instead eating another piece of chocolate. “Mmm.”
He groaned as I laughed, and we continued to watch the movie.
Having a boyfriend isn’t at all like I expected, George 2. I mean, I thought it would be kind of like movies, where the two of you know that you’re soul mates and meant to be together forever. I don’t know if Breton and I are like that. I love him, and he loves me, and for now, that’s all. Wow, that sounds really unromantic. I meant that neither of us are looking for a future or anything. I think we’ll deal with high-school first, the world later.
In the meantime, there will be lots of kissing, and cuddling, and adorable moments. I’m okay with that.
Breton and I applied to the same college. Not this year, that was done way before we knew each other. But maybe it’s a sign. We’ll be staying close. Peter’s going there too, and my cousin, and her friends! We’ll have a large posse of people there. It’s gonna be awesome.
For now, I’m going to keep counting the days, and keeping track.
P.S. Boy is Breton going to be mad when I declare that our 170 day anniversary is on Valentine’s Day. I can’t wait to see the look on his face!
~~
I know, it's not a typical epilogue. It's more of an extra chapter if anything. And a Halloween one around winter holiday time, too.
Of course, there's a reason why it's not like the typical epilogue. Mainly, because of the spin-off. Georgie will of course, be a featured character in that story! Not the main character, but featured!
Fun facts will follow, and news about the spin-off. Don't forget to comment, and vote if you liked it!
Thank you all so much for sticking with this story until the end! I love you all!
~Kayla