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3rd pov
Sunday service had always been part of the Cooper family routine. For Mary—devout and unwavering in her Christian faith—it was more than just a habit; it was a sacred duty. And every week, she joyfully "invited" her family to join her. The word invited might have sounded gentle, but the look in her eyes made it clear: attendance was not optional.
But this Sunday was different.
Instead of the usual sermon-then-go-home routine, today's service was followed by a church potluck. The announcement had been made the week prior, and the entire congregation had been buzzing with talk of casserole dishes, banana pudding, and who made the best deviled eggs.
The church hall was already filled with the sound of clinking plates and cheerful chatter. The rows of folding tables were lined with dishes both homemade and store-bought, all steaming with comfort and tradition. The smell of roasted ham, baked beans, and warm cornbread floated in the air, mixing with the subtle scent of lilies from the altar.
Children ran between pews, still in their Sunday best, their laughter echoing beneath the high wooden ceilings. Elders chatted near the entrance, exchanging family news while balancing full plates.
But unlike most Sundays—unlike most potluck events—the Cooper family found themselves at the center of unusual attention.
Eyes turned, subtle but undeniable. Fingers pointed discreetly. Whispers passed behind half-hidden smiles. In the hands of several women and teens were folded magazines, some peeking out from purses, others shamelessly clutched in hand—each one featuring the same thing: Georgie Cooper.
The boy from Medford who'd become more than just a local name.
Yet Georgie didn't flinch. Nor did Sheldon.
The two brothers sat calmly at their table, focused more on their mashed potatoes and brisket than the silent commotion around them. Sheldon, who usually bristled at disorder, had grown used to this particular kind. After all, at school, Georgie was already treated like a minor celebrity—students crowding hallways, asking for photos or song requests.
Veronica wasn't spared either. Ever since her connection to Georgie became public, classmates and strangers alike had tried to cozy up to her. Some were subtle. Some weren't.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, Missy was enthusiastically waving at the people who kept glancing over.
"Why are you waving like that?" George Sr. asked. He wasn't annoyed—in fact, he sounded oddly proud.
Missy leaned in close and whispered behind her plate of cornbread, "...We need to look friendly in front of everyone. It's good for Georgie's image."
George Sr. blinked. "Oh," he replied, as if she'd just explained national politics.
He turned around stiffly and locked eyes with a family across the hall who had been whispering with their mouths half-full. Panicking slightly, George Sr. attempted a small wave—his fingers twitching like he was signaling for help rather than saying hello.
The family gave him a polite but confused smile in return.
"Dad…" Missy muttered out of the corner of her mouth. "You look like you're swatting flies."
"I panicked," George Sr. said.
Missy sighed dramatically, then reached over and adjusted her dad's arm like she was fixing the antenna on an old TV. "Here. Just… casual wave. And smile. Like you're approachable but also not too desperate."
George Sr. tried again. The result was only marginally better, but at least this time no one looked alarmed.
Across the table, Sheldon blinked. "Statistically speaking, this type of shallow public performance is unlikely to affect Georgie's long-term reputation."
"Yeah, but it's fun," Missy replied with a grin, still waving like she was running for office.
Connie, seated next to Sheldon, had been trying to hold in her laughter ever since George Sr. started awkwardly waving at strangers.
"What on earth are you two doing?" Mary asked, returning from checking the dishes she brought to the event. Her eyes narrowed as she caught George Sr. and Missy mid-wave.
"Nothing," George Sr. answered quickly, snapping his hand back down like he'd just been caught stealing cookies.
Mary squinted at him, unconvinced, before Connie burst out laughing.
"He looked like he was running for president!"
George Sr. shot her a flat look, completely unamused.
Missy, clearly pleased with herself, hopped off her seat and ran off toward the corner where the church band had started playing soft country gospel.
"Don't make trouble, Missy!" Mary called after her with that sharp mom-tone. But Missy, as usual, paid her no mind.
Mary let out a sigh and turned her attention back to the table, mostly toward Georgie. "Well," she said with a satisfied smile, "I can confidently say my potato salad was the most popular dish here."
She looked around proudly. "I don't even see a single crumb left on our tray."
Georgie, having just finished his plate, leaned back in his chair and looked up at her.
"This was really good, Mom. A few other dishes were okay too, but I think you already won," he said with a grin.
Veronica, seated next to him, glanced at her own plate—empty of meat, but only of greens and fruit. She blinked, then turned to Georgie with genuine confusion.
"You eat a lot, but you're still so fit. What's your secret?!"
George Sr., mid-bite, froze. His eyes slowly shifted toward them, unsure of how to respond.
Connie, naturally, pounced.
"Oh honey, she's not talking about you, big guy. You passed the limit three potatoes ago," she cackled, taking another bite like she just delivered a punchline at a comedy roast.
Veronica's eyes widened. "Oh! I'm so sorry—George, I didn't mean—"
"Please don't insult other people inside the church." Mary cut in sternly, directing her sharp gaze at Connie, not Veronica.
George Sr. looked at Mary, then gave her a soft smile. "I love you." he said plainly, then returned to his food like nothing had happened. Of course he knows Veronica not talking about him, he just joking around.
Mary let out a small smile and finally picked up her fork again.
"Ugh," Connie muttered, grabbing her drink and taking a dramatic sip like it was whiskey instead of lemonade.
As the Coopers went back to bickering—playfully exchanging jabs and rolling their eyes at one another—Connie took the lead, completely ignoring Mary's earlier warning. Her sarcasm flowed freely, poking fun at just about everyone at the table.
"Hola, Coopers!" came a cheerful voice.
Pastor Jeff approached the table with his usual warm, slightly awkward smile.
"Georgie! My Cowboy!" Selena chimed in, appearing beside her husband in a fitted church dress that probably pushed the dress code. She strode toward Georgie like she was walking down a runway and planted an exaggerated kiss on his cheek.
"Ohhh-kay!" Georgie said, shooting a panicked glance toward Veronica, who was already fuming beside him. He tried to scoot away slightly, eyes silently begging for help from literally anyone at the table.
"Stop kissing him!" Veronica snapped, yanking Selena's arm with more force than anyone expected.
Selena blinked in surprise, pulling back just enough to see who dared interrupt her moment. She turned slowly, eyes scanning Veronica from head to toe with a smirk that could've started a fire. Veronica's glare only sharpened in response.
"Alright, Selena, no hagamos una escena." (Selena, let's not make a scene) Pastor Jeff said quickly, stepping in and grabbing his wife's hand in an attempt to restore order.
But Selena slipped her hand away with theatrical flair and turned back to the Coopers. "Hola!" she chirped again, waving with a grin before digging something out of her purse.
""¡Oh! Casi lo olvido—¡hice esto para Georgie!" (Oh! I almost forgot—I made this for Georgie!) she announced.
"Dijiste que te gusta lo picante, ¿verdad?" (You said you like spicy, right?) She gave him a wink that made everyone at the table want to throw something, except Sheldon, who was observing the whole thing like a behavioral science experiment.
Georgie took the small container awkwardly. "Uhh... I never said that, but—uh—thanks?"
Mary narrowed her eyes sharply at Selena, then turned to Pastor Jeff with a pointed look that clearly said: Get. Her. Out.
Pastor Jeff offered an apologetic shrug and gently took Selena's elbow.
Veronica, meanwhile, stared at the box in Georgie's hand like it had a bomb inside.
Selena slipped out of her husband's grasp. "Voy a salir atrás a fumar," (I'm going out back for a smoke,) she said casually, then turned to Georgie with that same slow, dangerous smile.
"¿Vienes conmigo, Georgie?" (Coming with me, Georgie?)
Sitting right next to Veronica—who now looked like she could melt steel with her glare—Georgie quickly shook his head.
"Shame." Selena purred, the kind of smile on her lips that made even Connie raise an eyebrow. It wasn't just flirtatious—it was dangerously slutty.
She walked off, heels clicking like gunshots on the tile floor.
Georgie pretended not to notice and instead turned to Sheldon—the only person at the table who actually understood Spanish well enough to know what she's talking about.
Without saying a word, Georgie gave him a warning shake of the head: Don't. Say. Anything.
Pastor Jeff tried to salvage what dignity he had left. "She, uh… needs the restroom," he said with an awkward cough. Then he turned to Mary. "Mary, can I talk to you for a sec?"
Mary, clearly annoyed but still holding on to her southern hospitality, stood up and followed him without a word.
As they walked off, Connie leaned forward, arms crossed, her gaze sharp as a blade aimed straight at Sheldon.
"Now spill, Moonpie."
Sheldon glanced at Georgie, who shook his head firmly again. The lunchbox Selena had given him was already in Veronica's hands, and she was staring at it like it had personally offended her.
"I'll give you five bucks," George Sr. said, finally joining the chaos. He'd been quiet up until now—not because he didn't care, but because he didn't want to fuel the fire while Mary and Pastor Jeff were still nearby. Now that they were gone, he couldn't help himself.
He smirked at Georgie, clearly enjoying the mess his son had created.
Sheldon didn't hesitate. "Alright then," he said, accepting the five-dollar bill like a vending machine taking exact change.
He cleared his throat and started translating what Selena had said earlier, his tone deadpan and precise.
Connie nodded along, eyes squinting. George Sr. wore a tight-lipped smile as he listened.
"Well," Connie said finally, sipping her juice like it was whiskey. "She's a W. Definitely."
Sheldon frowned. "What does 'W' stand for?"
Georgie, still trying to comfort Veronica—who was now aggressively sampling everything inside the mystery lunchbox—didn't even flinch.
"Whore," he muttered flatly, ignoring the startled looks from both Connie and George Sr.
Veronica snorted, her face turning red—not from embarrassment, but from the spice. Selena hadn't been joking. The food was blazing hot.
"Let's go find some milk," Georgie said, standing up and gently taking her hand.
Veronica looked like she might pull away—but instead, she gripped his hand tighter.
They walked off together, leaving behind the table and its buzzing tension.
Moments later, Missy came sprinting over, eyes darting. "Where's Brother?" she asked, glancing around.
"He's off finding milk," George Sr. said casually, popping a forkful of potato salad into his mouth. "For Veronica."
Missy blinked, completely lost. "Wait—what?"
She turned to Sheldon with a look that wasn't just a request—it was a demand.
Under the pressure of her death stare, Sheldon gave in immediately. He spilled everything that had happened, from Selena's grand entrance to the lunchbox drama, word for word.
"Aww, I missed something important!" Missy groaned, slumping into her chair like she'd just been personally betrayed by fate.
Connie raised an eyebrow. "And why were you looking for Georgie, anyway?"
Missy, perking up again like someone had just plugged her into a power outlet, sat up straight.
"I wanted to hear Brother sing! I talked to the band girl—" she pointed across the room at the church musician "—and asked if Brother could sing a song."
George Sr. frowned. "Don't go bothering your brother. He just wants to relax today."
Missy sighed, crossed her arms, and slumped again. "Fine."
George Sr. gave a satisfied nod, sipping his juice just as Mary returned—smiling wider than anyone had seen all morning.
"What?" George Sr. asked, confused. Her grin looked like she'd just won the lottery or solved world hunger.
"I'll tell you after we're home," Mary said, still glowing.
George Sr. narrowed his eyes. That only made it worse.
A few minutes later, Georgie and Veronica returned, her cheeks still a little pink and eyes watery from the spice.
"What happened to you, princess?" Georgie asked with a smile, noticing Missy sulking at the table like a rejected talent scout.
"Nothing," Missy muttered, looking away.
Veronica chuckled quietly.
Georgie glanced around the table, eyes narrowing in mock seriousness.
"Alright. Who made my little princess sad?" he said, pointing at each person one by one, exaggeratedly, like a cowboy detective in a whodunit sketch.
"She wants you to sing with the band," Sheldon said flatly, not missing a beat. "But she didn't realize it's a church choir, and you don't have any songs about God… other than 'God's Country' and 'The Man I Want to Be.'"
Missy threw him a death glare.
Georgie looked from Sheldon to Missy, then over to the church choir still playing soft music in the background.
"Oh," Georgie said slowly, then turned back to Missy with a grin. "I do have other god song. It's about God, people, and a little warning thrown in."
Missy's eyes lit up like fireworks. But before she could explode with excitement, George Sr. spoke up, frowning.
"You don't have to do that, son. Just enjoy Sunday like the rest of us."
"I mean… yeah, I got other God songs," Georgie replied, scratching the back of his neck. "But I don't think y'all are the meaning of the lyrics."
Mary raised an eyebrow. "Hey, you know me. Why don't you sing it and then we'll talk about the lyrics, hmm?"
She was clearly challenging him.
Georgie smirked. "If I sing… can I sleep in my room—with Veronica?"
Mary narrowed her eyes.
"For nap time only. One day."
Georgie leaned forward. "One month."
"One week."
"Two months."
Mary stopped, squinting at him. "Wait—why did you increase it?"
Georgie just shrugged. "Alright, Mom! One week… without supervision."
Both Mary and George Sr. gasped in exaggerated horror.
Connie snorted. "Oh, come on! It's just nap time."
"Do it mom! Do it!"
Veronica, now the subject of negotiation, covered her face with her hands. Her ears were turning red.
Mary sighed and pointed a stern finger at Georgie. "Alright. You got yourself a deal, young man. But—if we hear anything suspicious…"
Georgie raised his hands in surrender and turned to Veronica. "Guess I gotta buy a bigger bed now…"
"Ow!" Veronica pinched his arm.
Georgie winced. "Okay, okay… maybe a queen-size bed with bounce and— ow!"
This time George Sr. reached over and smacked him lightly on the back of the head.
Mary just stared at both of them, speechless.
"Don't look at me," George Sr. muttered. "You're the one who made the deal."
Mary crossed her arms and sank back into her chair.