Date: September 12, 1989.
Location: Medford High Cafeteria.
Event: The Arrival of Veronica Duncan.
In every high school movie, there is a scene where the "Bad Girl" walks in. The music slows down. The wind blows through her hair. Every guy in the room stops chewing.
That is exactly what happened on Tuesday.
The double doors swung open.
Veronica Duncan walked in.
She was wearing a leather jacket (in Texas heat? Bold), combat boots, and enough eyeliner to paint a car. She had a piercing in her ear that looked sharp enough to puncture a lung.
In the original timeline, this was the moment teenage Georgie lost his mind. He would have drooled. He would have done anything—converted to Christianity, joined a cult, robbed a bank—just to get her to look at him.
But I wasn't teenage Georgie.
I was Michael. And when I looked at Veronica Duncan, I didn't see a goddess. I saw a walking, talking Red Flag with daddy issues and a high probability of ruining my GPA.
"Oh my," Tam whispered, dropping his fork. "Who is that?"
"Veronica Duncan," Sheldon said without looking up from his notebook. "She transferred from Dallas. Her academic file indicates a proclivity for truancy and a GPA of 1.8. Statistically, she is a liability."
"She's gorgeous," Tam sighed.
"She's trouble," I said, stabbing a baby carrot. "Ignore her."
I went back to studying my playbook. We had Highland Park in three weeks, and their defense ran a complex 4-4 stack that gave me headaches.
But fate—or the narrative—wasn't going to let me ignore her.
I felt a shadow fall over my table.
I looked up.
Veronica was standing there. She was chewing gum with an aggressive, rhythmic smack.
"You're the Quarterback," she stated. It wasn't a question.
"I am," I said politely. "Can I help you?"
She smirked. It was a practiced smirk, designed to make boys stutter.
"I'm bored," she said, leaning on the table. "You got a car?"
"I do."
"Let's go," she said, nodding toward the exit. "Take me to the quarry. Or the arcade. Anywhere but here."
The cafeteria went silent. Tam looked like he was going to pass out from jealousy. Bullard, sitting three tables away, was watching closely.
This was the test. The "Cool Guy" move was to ditch school, drive off with the girl, and be a legend.
I looked at my watch.
"I can't," I said.
Veronica's smirk faltered. "Excuse me?"
"I have Algebra II in ten minutes," I explained calmly. "And then I have film study with Coach. If I miss film, I don't start on Friday. If I don't start, I don't get a scholarship. If I don't get a scholarship, I end up working at the tire shop forever."
I took a sip of my milk.
"Sorry," I added. "Maybe catch me on a Saturday?"
Veronica stared at me. She wasn't used to hearing 'No.' She was used to boys tripping over themselves to buy her cigarettes.
Sheldon looked up.
"Also," Sheldon added helpfully, "truancy is a violation of the student code of conduct. And second-hand smoke is a class A carcinogen. Please step back three feet."
Veronica looked at Sheldon. Then she looked at me.
"Is he serious?" she asked.
"He's very serious," I said. "He's my brother. Don't blow smoke on him, or we're gonna have a problem."
The threat wasn't loud. It was just a fact. *Don't mess with the asset.*
Veronica laughed. It was a dry, cynical laugh.
"You're weird, Cooper," she said. "Boring. But weird."
She pushed off the table. "Whatever. Your loss."
She sauntered away, heading toward the smokers' corner outside.
"Dude!" Tam hissed. "Are you insane? That was Veronica Duncan! She wanted you to kidnap her!"
"I don't have time for kidnapping, Tam," I said, packing up my playbook. "I have to learn how to read a Cover 3 defense."
***
The Home Front
Of course, in a small town, news travels faster than light.
By the time I got home for dinner, Mary Cooper knew everything.
"I heard about the girl," Mary said the second I walked in the door. She was chopping vegetables with the same frantic energy she used when praying for sinners.
"What girl?" I asked, dropping my gym bag.
"The Duncan girl," Mary said, her eyes wide. "Brenda Sparks told me she saw her in the parking lot. Said she looks like she worships... dark forces."
"She just listens to heavy metal, Mom," I said, grabbing an apple. "She's not a witch."
"She asked you to skip school!" Mary accused. "Georgie, you have to stay away from her. Girls like that... they are stumbling blocks! They will lead you down a path of sin and... and leather jackets!"
George Sr. looked up from his newspaper. "Did you skip school?"
"No," I said. "I went to Algebra."
"Did you go to practice?"
"Yes. I threw two touchdowns in 7-on-7."
George nodded and went back to his paper. "Then I don't care if she worships Godzilla. Good job, son."
Mary turned on George. "George! You can't be serious! That girl is a bad influence! She smokes! She probably... loiters!"
"She's just a kid acting out, Mom," I said, surprisingly gentle.
I sat down at the table.
"I'm not interested in her," I lied (she was objectively beautiful, but the drama wasn't worth it). "I've got too much on my plate. Between football, keeping Sheldon from getting stuffed in a locker, and working at the junkyard... I don't have time for a girlfriend who needs a babysitter."
Mary stopped chopping. She looked at me, searching for a lie.
"You really mean that?"
"I really mean it. I want a scholarship, Mom. Not a criminal record."
Mary let out a long sigh of relief. She walked over and hugged me.
"Oh, praise the Lord," she whispered. "I was so worried. I was about to call Pastor Jeff for an intervention."
"Please don't," I muttered.
Sheldon walked into the kitchen, wearing his safety goggles for no apparent reason.
"For the record," Sheldon stated, "if you are looking for a mate, I would suggest someone with a genetic predisposition for high intelligence. Veronica Duncan's vocabulary is extremely limited. It would be an inefficient pairing."
"Thanks, Shelly," I said. "I'll keep that in mind."
***
The Twist
I thought that was the end of it.
But the next day, during my free period, I was in the library, trying to figure out Spanish verb conjugations.
A chair scraped opposite me.
It was Veronica. She wasn't wearing the leather jacket today. She looked slightly more normal, though she still looked annoyed at the world.
"You really didn't skip," she said. "I checked the attendance office. You actually went to class."
"I told you," I said, not looking up from my book. "Hablar. Hablo. Hablas."
"Why?" she asked. "You're the quarterback. You run the school. You could do whatever you want."
I finally looked up. I saw the sadness behind the eyeliner. This was a girl who was used to people using her, or judging her, or fearing her. She wasn't used to someone just... being busy.
"Look, Veronica," I said. "I'm not a saint. But I have a goal. I want to get my family out of debt. I want to play college ball. And skipping class to smoke behind the bleachers doesn't help me do that."
I tapped my textbook.
"You want to hang out? Grab a book. I'm failing Spanish. If you help me pass, I'll buy you a burger. But I'm not cutting class."
She stared at me for a long time. She looked confused.
Then, slowly, she reached into her bag. She pulled out a Spanish textbook.
"I picked it up in my old neighborhood," she mumbled, opening the book. "If you fail, it makes me look bad for sitting with you."
"Great," I said, pushing my notes toward her. "What is the imperfect tense of 'to be'?"
She sighed, popped her gum, and looked at the page.
"It's Era," she said. "Idiot."
[Quest Update: Avoid the Bad Influence]
* Status: FAILED (Task Failed Successfully).
* New Relationship: Veronica Duncan (Study Partner).
* Mary's Stress: High (But unconfirmed).