Carnivàle/Friday Night Lights - "Loving Texas", Tim/Julie, Ben/Sofie, T

[lindentree]

Continued from here.

***

That afternoon, Julie went to see Rita Sue and Libby in their tent. The two women were stretched out on the bed and the little fainting couch, respectively, their hair up in curlers and their noses buried in ragged copies of Photoplay.

When Julie announced that she would love to help them out on the bally, Rita Sue was ecstatic. She immediately launched into her ideas for what kinds of looks they could try on Julie, and how great it was that they didn’t even need to bleach her hair because she was already a blonde, if a somewhat “dingy” one.

Libby said nothing, briefly meeting Julie’s eyes over the top of her magazine before looking away.

“I really think we oughta cut that hair, though. I mean, it is just plain unfashionable, girl. How deep in the country are you from, anyway? No one wears their hair that long. Don’t you think so, Lib?” Rita Sue was saying, one hand at her chin and her head tilted contemplatively at Julie.

Libby shrugged. “She doesn’t want to cut it, don’t make her cut it. No harm in trying something different, Mama.”

“Hm,” Rita Sue replied, still scrutinizing Julie. She sighed. “I guess you’re right. It’s up to you, Julie. We could give you a cute little bob right here if you wanted, but we can always curl it and draw it out in long ringlets, maybe pin it here and there. It’ll look a little old-fashioned, but maybe some fellas are into that. I’ve heard of a man getting hot for stranger things, believe me.”

Julie swallowed, and thought about Tyra’s sister Mindy, and all the other women who worked at The Landing Strip, and what her mother thought about them. She pasted a smile on her face.

“Let’s see how it works with the long hair tonight,” she suggested. “We can always cut it if it’s a problem.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon digging through trunks of lingerie to find the right outfit for Julie. They ended up choosing a little camisole and shorts made of peach satin with faded white lace trim. It needed to be mended and altered to fit her, but it looked all right. They paired it with long silk stockings and garters and a pair of heels that pinched her toes. Rita Sue was very pleased.

“We get your hair done up, and you’re gonna look just like a girl on a French postcard, just like a little doll. Old-fashioned and classy and sweet, like Mary Pickford! Those johnnies are gonna love it,” she said, smiling at Julie. Julie smiled back, trying to act like she wasn’t nervous at all. Rita Sue was nice enough, but when she turned her appraising gaze in her direction, Julie could tell that all she saw were dollar signs.

Julie walked back to Sofie’s trailer with her outfit and a blue chenille robe in her arms. She didn’t see Tim anywhere, and she was just as glad, because as she passed the rousties setting up the last couple of tents, one of them whistled a cat-call at her.

She sighed as she trudged along, her head held high as though she hadn’t heard. The rousties were gross. This whole place was gross.

Sofie was sitting on the wooden steps to her trailer when Julie approached, reading a book and smoking a cigarette. She looked up.

“They got you all set up, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Julie replied. She looked down at the clothing in her arms. “Do you mind if I put this stuff in your trailer? I don’t want it to get all grungy.”

“Sure,” Sofie said, tossing her cigarette aside before standing up and opening the door. “You can change in here too, if you want. If you need some privacy.”

Julie followed her up the steps and into the trailer. Inside, it was dark and stuffy, and filled with formal, expensive-looking furnishings like polished wood tables and velvet curtains. There was a crystal decanter set on one little table, and a gramophone on another.

“Is this stuff yours?” Julie asked, setting her things down on one of the richly upholstered chairs.

“No. It used to belong to somebody else, and I inherited it, I guess you could say,” Sofie replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed and crossing her legs before resting her chin in one hand and eyeing Julie’s new costume. “What have they got you wearing?”

“Underwear, basically,” Julie said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m supposed to look like a girl on a French postcard or something, I don’t know.”

Sofie regarded her shrewdly for a beat. “You’ll be all right. I’ve done it once myself, and it ain’t so bad.”

“I hope you’re right,” Julie sighed, sitting down on one of the free chairs and rested her elbows on the table.

“What does Tim think about it? Some fellas are real funny about that kinda thing,” Sofie said.

“He’s not crazy about it, but it’s okay,” Julie replied. She thought about the first night they’d been there, about the guy who had bought her popcorn. She supposed a lot of the guys she’d be dancing for would be older, and would like that she looked young. She grimaced. “Sofie, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Right before Jonesy was going to throw us out that first night, a guy tried to pick me up. He asked me if my name was Virginia. He kept on asking me, like, ‘No, seriously, is your name Virginia?’ I told him it was Julie, but he was - what? What are you laughing at?”

“He asked you if your name was Virginia?”

“Yeah.”

Sofie smiled. “He wanted to know if you’re a virgin.”*

“Oh,” Julie replied, frowning. “Oh.”

“Yeah. So, are you?”

“Am I -? Oh. Yeah, I am.”

“Really?” Sofie asked, her surprise obvious. “I figured, after what you said about Tim... I mean, not that it’s any of my business.”

“We’ve, um, decided to wait until we’re married,” Julie equivocated, hoping to redirect the focus of the conversation. “While we’re on the subject, what’s the story with you and Ben?”
There was a pause. “Story? What story?” Sofie replied, trying (and failing) to sound genuinely confused.

“I don’t know, it just seems like you two have some kind of... thing.”

“Some kind of thing?” Sofie asked.

“Sure! You know, a thing. For each other. Or with each other. You tell me.”

Sofie looked down, giving a shrug of her shoulders, and Julie could see she was uncomfortable.

“Hey, it’s none of my business,” she said breezily. “I just figure, you know... Life’s short. If you like him, you should do something about it. You never know what’ll happen. Besides, I’ve found that some guys like a girl who takes matters into her own hands.”

Sofie grimaced. “Maybe they like it at first, but it seems to me that most fellas like to run the show.”

Julie eyed the other girl and considered the vastly different worlds they had grown up in. “Yeah, maybe. But not every guy, right?”

“I guess.”

They fell silent for a moment, Julie observing Sofie’s downturned head. She cleared her throat. “You do like him, though, right?”

Sofie looked up, and her face was pink. She said nothing, shrugging her shoulders. Julie laughed.

“Okay, good. Glad I’m not totally out to lunch.”

“No, not totally,” Sofie replied, giving a hesitant half-smile.

***

That night, Julie danced outside the cooch tent for the first time. After eating with Sofie and Ben (who only shrugged when Julie asked him if he knew where Tim was) she got changed in Sofie’s trailer, wrapped herself in the chenille robe Libby had given her, and teetered over to the back of the cooch tent. She could already feel the blisters forming on her toes from her torturous shoes.

Julie sat at Rita Sue’s vanity while the older woman curled her hair using an ancient-looking metal curling iron and chatted away about how great their take was going to be tonight.

“We’ll try rolling your hair up with pins next time,” Rita Sue said, touching the coil of hair wrapped around the iron to see if it was hot enough. “This thing is a real pain in the ass, it takes so damn long.”

Libby came over and leaned back against the vanity, crossing her arms over her chest. Her hair was already done up in tidy pin curls and finger waves. She examined Julie in the dim lamplight, tilting her head at her. “Want me to do your face?”

Having only a vague idea of what would be considered sexy make-up in 1935, Julie nodded. Libby pulled a rickety wooden chair over and sat down in front of her so that their stocking-covered knees bumped against each other. She reached over to the vanity and picked up a little tin pot covered in chipped gold paint. She unscrewed it and rubbed her middle finger in the cake of rose-coloured powder inside.

“Hold still,” she said. Julie nodded again, and then closed her eyes and let the Dreyfuss women do as they wished. Idly, she wondered how much lead and mercury were in the cosmetics being applied to her face.

Once they had finished, the two women stepped back and surveyed their work. Julie felt like a virus on a microscope slide.

“Not bad,” Rita Sue decided. They stepped back and let Julie see herself in the mirror.

Her eyelids were covered in blue shadow and her lids rimmed in a thick, dark liner. Libby had applied some weird kind of mascara that felt wet and heavy. Powder made her skin incredibly pale, obscuring her light freckles, and dark, plum-red lipstick and rouge coloured her cheeks and lips. She gulped. It was more heavy-handed than her usual look, to say the least.

Her hair, meanwhile, was a mess of long ringlets, which Rita Sue had partially pinned up at the back. It did look old-fashioned, almost like Kate Winslet in Titanic, but Julie liked it.

“See?” Rita Sue said. “Just like a doll!”

“Just like a doll,” Libby agreed, tilting her head at Julie. “You all right? You look a little green.”

“How could you tell through all this powder?” Julie griped. She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just nervous, I guess.”

“Don’t be,” Rita Sue said, patting her shoulder. “Lib and Stumpy will be out there with you, and there’s always rousties nearby. You just let Stumpy do the jawing, and all you gotta do is stand out there and look pretty. Ain’t nothing gonna happen to you.” Rita Sue said it with such certainty that Julie actually did feel reassured, and she nodded.

Rita Sue turned to Libby. “Lib, go poke your head out and see what the crowd’s like. Must be almost time for you girls to get out there.”

Libby disappeared out one of the tent flaps, returning a minute later. “There’s a good crowd and Daddy’s chomping at the bit. We’d better get going.”

“All right, you girls go on,” Rita Sue said. She handed her little silver flask to Libby, who took a healthy swig before holding it out to Julie.

“It helps,” Libby said softly, giving her an encouraging nod.

Julie took the flask and swigged, grimacing as the harsh liquor filled her chest and her belly with warmth. She blinked hard, and found Rita Sue smirking at her, arms crossed over her chest.

“You’re just a spring lily, ain’t you?” she said. It wasn’t a question so much as a statement. Julie shrugged, and passed the flask back to Rita Sue.

Libby threaded her skinny arm through Julie’s, and tugged her out of the tent. They hurried through a dark corridor of canvas, Libby leading the way. Eventually they stopped at a little wooden staircase whose summit was obscured by a moth-eaten red velvet curtain. Stumpy was standing there impatiently, his battered boater hat clutched anxiously in his hands and his bamboo cane hooked over his forearm.

“There you are! Come on, now, we got potential paying customers passing us right on by out there! We don’t want ‘em spending their hard-earned coin on games, do we?” he said, spinning his hat in his hands and placing it on his head at what he likely thought was a rakish angle.

“We sure don’t, Daddy,” Libby replied.

“All right, then!” Stumpy said, passing them each a large fan made of ivory-coloured ostrich feathers. He hopped up the steps and disappeared beyond the curtain. His voice boomed out, and Julie decided he must be in the right line of work.

“Gentlemen, may I have your attention, please! You fellas in the crowd tonight are fortunate indeed, for we have for you a unique display of Parisian culture! Straight from the nightclubs of gay Pair-ee, please welcome Giselle and Georgette!”

Libby reached down and squeezed her hand. “Come on,” she said, pulling Julie up the stairs.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Julie tried to think of it as just like any old dance recital. Really, it was no different.

Most of all, she tried not to think about what her parents would say.

Libby dropped her hand as they emerged from behind the curtain, out into the glare of several footlights which threw off oily black smoke.

Tinny music warbled from a gramophone at Stumpy’s feet, but Julie barely heard it, or Stumpy’s voice. All she heard was the pounding of her own pulse in her ears as she looked out over the small crowd of men beginning to gather at the foot of the stage.

Swallowing hard, she turned to her side to see Libby watching her. The other girl raised her eyebrows at her, and then swayed side to side while obscuring herself flirtatiously with the feather fan. Hiding her face behind it, she nodded encouragingly at Julie.

Julie did the same, fluttering the fan and moving it across her body. She closed her eyes and tuned in to the music, trying to find a comfortable beat in the unfamiliar song. She turned and swayed the way Libby had done until she got caught up in the music and began to feel brave. Opening her eyes, she glanced over to see Libby drawing the fan up her long legs and pouting and batting her eyelashes at the men.

Julie turned her back on the audience and looked over her shoulder at them, hooking an arm behind her to hold the fan almost like a peacock’s tail feathers. She heard the sound of a low whistle right at her feet.

Turning back around, Julie brought the fan with her, covering her torso with it. She glanced up and saw that the crowd had multiplied, and there were a couple dozen men standing there watching them dance. She felt a bit ridiculous, but it didn’t seem to really matter much what she did; the men knew what a cooch show was and would line up to have a look regardless.

Fanning the feathers across her face, Julie looked out over the crowd and saw a figure standing well back from the others, his arms crossed over his chest. It was Tim, and even from a distance Julie could see that he was mad. Mad in the way he used to look all the time, prowling the streets of Dillon with a perpetual black cloud over his head, before he moved in with her family and Julie discovered that he was not as scary as he looked, but was in fact secretly laidback and funny and easy to talk to.

As she took in the scowl on his face, she felt a strange mixture of annoyance and embarrassment settle in the pit of her stomach. What was his problem, exactly? What right did he have to look at her that way? The situation was what it was; she was doing what she had to do to get by.

The music faded away, and Julie felt Libby’s hand grasp her wrist. Libby jerked her head in the direction of the tent, and began pulling Julie off stage.

“Gentlemen, please show your appreciation with a round of applause for our lovely French lilies, Giselle and Georgette! Our display continues inside, and you may join our ladies for a mere nickel apiece!”

Libby led her back through the labyrinth of canvas flaps to their “boudoir” as Stumpy called it. Rita Sue was sitting at her vanity, putting the finishing touches on her make-up. She turned as they entered.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“She did pretty good for her first time,” Libby replied. “She’s a natural. Few more times out there and we’ll be just fine.”

“I knew you had it in you,” Rita Sue said, sounding very satisfied. “Now come on, Lib. We gotta get in there. We’ll be back after the show, and you girls can head out front again. You just sit tight and have yourself a drink, honey,” she said, nodding at Julie.

Grabbing the feather fan from Julie, Rita Sue turned and Libby followed, and Julie suddenly found herself alone.

She sat down on the little fainting couch, and then leaned all the way back into it and sighed. She toed off her shoes, wincing as her feet throbbed. Idly, she picked up a copy of Photoplay which had been tossed aside on the couch. She read a gossipy article about Jean Harlow, and thought about how the starlet would be dead only a couple of years later. She thought about how most of the people around her would probably be very old or dead by the time she was born. She frowned and set the magazine down.

Eventually Libby and Rita Sue returned, breathless and laughing, both of them topless and clutching clothes to themselves. Julie blushed and looked away.

Rita Sue poured them each a drink of bourbon and something she called branch water. Julie nursed hers on the couch while the other two put themselves back together and touched up their make-up.

The night went on like that - dancing, waiting, and drinking. The alcohol tasted terrible and made her feel woozy, but Julie had to admit that Libby was right; it helped. She still felt like herself. She just cared a whole lot less.

After midnight, the carnival shut down for the night and the crowd thinned, and then disappeared. As Julie pulled her chenille robe on, Libby shooed her out of their tent, and then followed her.

“Aren’t you going to bed?” Julie asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t sleep there. Anyway, Mama’s got a customer.” Libby pulled the curtains to behind her and began walking to her own tent.

“A customer?”

“Yeah, Daddy’s got a trick for her tonight,” Libby replied.

Julie knew just enough to understand what Libby meant, and she blanched. She knew they were strippers, but she didn’t know they did... other stuff.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Do you ever -?”

“Sometimes,” Libby shrugged, continuing to look ahead. She stopped at a random flap at the far end of the cooch tent. “Night, Julie.” She disappeared.

Confused and tired and wishing desperately that she had a real bed to fall into, Julie walked to where the truck she shared with Tim was parked. When she got there, she found Tim sitting on the bare bed of the truck, his elbows resting on his knees. He looked up as she approached and came to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” There was a pause, and Julie cleared her throat. “So, did you come to watch me dance, or to keep an eye on me, or did you just happen to be passing by?”

Tim gave her a blank look and sat up straight, scratching his chin.

“You look good,” he said.

Julie pulled the robe tighter over herself, feeling a blush creep across her cheeks and down her neck. “It’s more make-up than I usually wear,” she mumbled.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You okay?”

Julie shrugged, and repeated the mantra that had gotten her through the night. “It’s no different than a dance recital, really.”

“Don’t think your dance recitals had a back room strip show, though,” Tim replied. Julie couldn’t tell if he was making a joke or somehow chastising her. She frowned.

“I can’t be a leech, Tim,” she said softly. “These people have hardly anything to begin with.”

“Yeah,” Tim said. He tilted his head at her and frowned. “You smell like someone dumped a bottle of whiskey on you. You been drinking?”

“Yeah, a little,” she replied. “It’s no big deal.”

Tim didn’t respond; he simply looked at her, his frown deepening.

“What, seriously? You, of all people, are going to give me that look because I had a couple of drinks tonight? Really?”

That didn’t seem to sweeten Tim’s mood any, and Julie rolled her eyes. “I seriously can’t deal with you judging me right now. I’ll see you later.”

Without waiting for a reply, Julie turned on her heel and stalked off in the direction of Sofie’s trailer, rapping on the door when she got there.

“Who is it?” came Sofie’s voice from within.

“It’s Julie.”

“Come on in,” Sofie called.

Julie entered, and shut the door behind her. Sofie was sitting cross-legged on the bed, smoking a cigarette and reading a book. She wore a ragged nightgown that looked like it ought to have been thrown out long ago.

“How’d it go?” Sofie asked.

“All right,” Julie shrugged.

Sofie eyed her for a moment, and then smiled sardonically. “Tim’s not happy, huh?”

“No, not really.”

“You can stay here tonight if you want,” Sofie offered.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. Ain’t real roomy, but it’s good enough.”

“Thanks,” Julie said, sitting down on one of the chairs and kicking off her pinching shoes with a pained sigh.

“You want some cold cream?” Sofie asked. “You might feel better once you get all that off your face.”

“Sure, thanks,” Julie replied. She cleaned all the make-up off her face, washed up, and changed into an old men’s shirt Sofie had given her to use as a makeshift nightgown. She curled up in the biggest easy chair, bringing her knees up to her chest and sighing.

Sofie, meanwhile, had stubbed out her cigarette and was sitting back in her bed, contemplating Julie. “I hear it gets easier,” she said.

“I hope so,” Julie replied.

Sofie was quiet for a moment, just watching her. Then she cleared her throat. “You know, it’s nice that you don’t wanna be dead weight, but you don’t belong here. Neither does Tim. But you, especially.”

Julie stared at her, taken aback. Finally she swallowed. “Yeah, I know,” she whispered.

“Why don’t you two go home, try to work it out with your folks? Get married before you get there, then they can’t do nothing about it, anyhow. I bet they’d just be happy to see you’re all right.”

Tears welled up in Julie’s eyes and she blinked them away. If only it were that simple. “You used to tell fortunes, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you tell mine?”

Sofie looked away. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” Sofie said. “I wish I could help you, but I just... I can’t.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Julie said, although she didn’t, really. She supposed it had been a silly idea.

After that, there wasn’t much to talk about, and the two girls sat in silence until eventually Sofie got up and said goodnight before turning off the little gas lamp that illuminated the trailer.

Julie stared up at the dark ceiling of the trailer and supposed that it was pretty irrational, asking for your future to be predicted for you when you weren’t even going to be born for another sixty or so odd years.

***

Lawton, Oklahoma was small, and Management didn’t see much profit in staying more than one night. At dawn, everyone ate a hurried breakfast before starting the arduous process of dismantling and packing up the carnival for transport.

Tim caught up with Julie after breakfast, when she was on her way to help the Dreyfusses pack up the interior of the cooch tent. He came jogging up to her, and Julie couldn’t help her surprise. The only place Tim Riggins moved that quickly was on the football field.

“Where’d you go last night?” he asked.

“I stayed in Sofie’s trailer,” Julie replied.

“How come?”

“I... I don’t know, I just thought... It doesn’t matter what I thought. Why do you care?”

Tim frowned. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Jules. I thought we were in this thing together.”

“We are,” Julie insisted. “But the thing is... Tim, you can’t go around trying to make me feel bad about dancing. It’s not fair, and you don’t have the right.”

Tim looked down, scuffing the dirt with his boot. “Yeah, I know. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, honest. I just don’t like it, and I wish you didn’t have to do it. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

Julie contemplated him for a moment, and then guffawed. “I don’t get it. A couple weeks ago, we were basically as good as strangers. Where is this protectiveness coming from, exactly?”

“I dunno,” Tim mumbled. “Is it that weird that I don’t want to see you get hurt?”

The guy standing in front of her with his hands on his hips, telling her he didn’t want to see her get hurt, was a far cry from everything she had believed - up until very recently - about Tim Riggins.

“No, it’s not that weird,” she said softly. On an impulse, she stepped forward and, placing a hand on his wrist, leaned up and brushed a quick kiss against his jaw. “Thank you.”

Tim didn’t seem to have a response to that. He stared at her in apparent bewilderment for a moment before clearing his throat. “Okay,” he said gruffly.

“I’m riding in Sofie’s trailer with her today,” Julie said. “Ben’s driving, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind your company. He likes you; you don’t talk much.”

“Yeah,” Tim replied, smiling. “You could always ride up front with us.”

“Thanks, but I’m good. Besides, I’m sure you’ll both enjoy the silence, and my non-stop talking would probably not be appreciated.”

“I like your non-stop talking,” Tim replied, tilting his head at her.

Julie laughed awkwardly, and felt her face heat up. She wondered if this is what it felt like to be on the receiving end of flirtation from Tim.

One of the rousties called Tim’s name from nearby, and Tim frowned. “I’d better get going. See you soon, Jules,” he said, giving her a little nod as he turned and walked away.

Julie smiled at his back as he went, and then continued on to the cooch tent. There she found the Dreyfusses in the middle of packing up, something they had clearly deducted to an exact science. As they stuffed trunks and suitcases full of make-up and costume jewellery and garters and silk stockings, Julie felt like she was in the way more than anything. She mostly just followed Rita Sue’s militant directions and carried full-to-bursting suitcases to their car, where Stumpy strapped them to the roof.

The entire operation was packed up and ready to hit the road in a surprisingly short amount of time. With a wave to the Dreyfusses, Julie dashed across the dust-blown remnants of the carnival, and found Sofie’s trailer idling towards the back of the convoy. With a wave to Ben and Tim in the truck cab, she went around back and hopped up the steps before pulling them up behind her.

Sofie was sitting in one of the armchairs, her feet stretched out in front of her. She was in her work clothes - a men’s shirt and trousers which were too big for her athletic frame - and was dirty and sweaty.

“Just about left without you,” she said.

“Sorry,” Julie replied. “I was trying to help pack up the cooch tent, but I don’t think I was much help.”

“You don’t have to say sorry to me,” Sofie smiled. “Besides, I doubt that fella of yours would have let Ben so much as step on the gas without you tucked up safely back here.”

Embarrassed, Julie merely shrugged. The trailer gave a lurch then, and began to sway as Ben pulled out into the convoy.

“Away we go,” Sofie sighed.

Julie settled into the other chair and thought about how, with each revolution of the truck’s tires, they moved further away from Dillon. The issue of time didn’t even bear thinking about. She closed her eyes.

***

Julie woke up at the sound of raised voices, and at the realisation that the truck had stopped moving. Blinking, she sat up and stretched, sore from falling asleep in the chair.

“Sofie?” she called. No one answered.

Julie stood and went to the back door. It was unlatched and the stairs had been lowered to the ground. She stepped down and went around the side of the trailer, where she found Ben and Tim standing in the trailer’s shade, right next to the truck’s cab. Sofie sat in the driver’s seat. It was blazing hot outside, the sun beating down relentlessly on the parched ground. Julie guessed it must be mid-afternoon.

“What’s going on?” she asked, coming to stand beside them. All the other trucks and trailers in the convoy had also stopped, and further up the road there was a melee of vehicles.

“Came across another carnival,” Ben replied. He cast a wary look at Sofie before continuing. “There was a fire. They don’t got hardly nothing, so we’re stopping a while to help ‘em out, get ‘em some food.”

“Oh, wow. Was anyone hurt?”

“No, no one was hurt,” Sofie said, her voice strained. She was staring off into the distance, her arms crossed tensely over her chest.

“They was all real lucky,” Ben said. He said it to Julie, but he was watching Sofie anxiously.

Up ahead, Jonesy directed vehicles in the two carnival convoys. Nearby, some of the rousties were setting up the big ten-in-one tent.

“We’d better get over there or Jonesy’ll pitch a fit,” Ben said to Tim. He cast one last concerned look at Sofie, and then turned to go. Tim followed him.

“Are you okay?” Julie asked after a moment, breaking the silence which descended after Ben and Tim’s departure.

“Yeah,” Sofie replied, producing a cigarette and a lighter. Her hands shook as she lit it.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. I just wanna be alone, if you don’t mind,” she said.

Julie stared at the other girl’s profile, taken aback. “Yeah, sure,” she replied softly. “Of course.”

Sofie turned and looked at her, and her expression softened. “Sorry, I’m just... Fires scare me, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” Julie said. “I’m gonna go see if I can help out. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Sofie nodded tightly, and Julie turned away, walking towards the tent. She passed an elephant and its keeper on the way, and caught sight of Tim and Ben helping to set up the cook tent. She found Rita Sue and Libby seated at a table with a few of the carnies, as well as some newcomers from the other carnival, passing around a couple of bottles of cheap liquor. They were only too eager to relate their tale of woe to whoever would listen. Julie sat down on a vacant chair at the table. She heard the story of the fire six times, from six different people, and ended up no more certain of what had happened, for each version varied wildly.

The afternoon wore on into evening, and as drinks were passed from person to person, a party sprouted up around them. They moved inside the ten-in-one when the bugs began to circle their heads, and there the carnies danced and mingled to the records someone had playing on a gramophone. The alcohol flowed and everyone seemed in a celebratory mood, in spite of the circumstances of their meeting.

Julie sat off to the side of the tent, nursing a bourbon and branch water Rita Sue had brought her, and watching the dance floor. Ben and Sofie were nowhere to be seen; Tim was over with the rousties, playing cards.

She watched as one of the carnies who gave her the creeps harassed Libby who, like her, was simply having a drink to the side of the makeshift dirt dance floor. Jonesy intervened before leading Libby onto the dance floor himself. Julie raised her eyebrows. Interesting.

“Jules?”

Julie jumped, surprised to find Tim standing by her side.

“Hey, Tim! I didn’t even hear you walk up.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged. He cleared his throat. “You’re a dancer, right?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “It’s mostly modern dance, though. It’s not like, the fox trot, or whatever.”

“Yeah, but still. You wanna dance?”

“Seriously?”

“Sure. I mean, you’re just about the only gal in here who ain’t danced yet, and I don’t like the way the rousties are looking at you, to be honest.”

Julie glanced up to see more than a couple of men on the other side of the tent casting appraising glances in her direction. “They’re not going to try anything. They all think we’re together,” Julie reassured him.

“No kidding. Let’s keep it that way. Come on,” Tim said, standing and holding out his hand.

Julie stood and followed him onto the dance floor. Tim held one of her hands in his, and Julie placed the other on his shoulder. He put his remaining hand on her hip, and they began to sway to the music.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing. Do you?” Tim asked softly.

“Nope,” Julie replied. She smiled up at him. “We’ll just have to fake it ‘til we make it. Besides, I think everyone’s pretty convinced that we’re major backwoods hicks, anyway, so it doesn’t matter if we don’t know how to dance.”

“Well, one outta two ain’t bad.”

“Tim, you’re hardly a backwoods hick.”

“Who said I was talking about me?” Tim said. Julie replied by reaching down and jabbing Tim in the ribs with her thumb. He jumped and squeezed her hand. “Careful, I’m ticklish.”

“Tim Riggins, ticklish?” Julie scoffed. “Somehow I find that very hard to believe.”

“You shouldn’t. It’s true. You can ask Tyra when we get back.”

“Oh, gross,” she replied, making a face at him. He only grinned in response, and slid his hand across the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. Julie swallowed, feeling her face heat up. “You’re a pretty good dancer, for someone who doesn’t really know what he’s doing.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“You get a lot of practice?”

Tim shrugged. “Not really.”

“Yeah, I heard you usually skip the dancing and romancing part,” Julie said, clearing her throat. She suddenly felt awkward in his presence, like she didn’t want to look directly at him.

“That’s what you heard, huh?” Tim had gone still and was looking down at her.

“Oh, sure. I mean, everybody knows that, right?” she said lightly. “I’m not judging or anything, but that’s just how you are. Right?”

“How I am,” Tim repeated blankly. All the good humour had disappeared from his face. He was silent for a moment. Julie saw her mistake, and groped desperately for the right thing to say. Tim cleared his throat. “So did Seven ever manage to round any bases with you, or is that why he’s fooling around with that nurse, now?”

Julie froze, humiliation pressing down hard on her chest. She stared up at him, her mouth suddenly gone dry. She felt the hot sting of tears prick at her eyes, and she yanked herself from his grasp and turned on her heel, leaving before he could see that his words had hit right on the mark.

“Jules, wait,” he said behind her, but she didn’t stop. She left the party and weaved her way through the haphazard congregation of trucks and trailers, not stopping until she found herself at Ben’s truck. She paused there and leaned back against the low wooden bed, trying to catch her breath.

She closed her eyes and felt hot tears squeeze out. She sighed shakily, and contemplated the possibility that she really was a complete idiot.

Julie was so lost in thought, staring down at the dust beneath her feet, that she didn’t hear Ben approach until he sat down next to her on the truck bed, leaving a wide space between them.

Embarrassed, Julie wiped at her damp cheeks and sent him a watery smile. He didn’t respond, instead pulling a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and holding it out to her. Julie shook her head and muttered her thanks. She had never accepted a cigarette from him or from Sofie, but both of them always offered. He removed one for himself and lit it before shoving the pack back into his shirt pocket.

He smoked in silence at her side. Julie sighed shakily. “It’s just a little fight with Tim, that’s all,” she said softly.

Ben said nothing to this, and continued to smoke. After a minute, he cleared his throat. “You’re pretty young to be running off with a guy and joining a carnival show.”

“You’re only a couple years older than me,” Julie pointed out, annoyed at being condescended to.

“Ain’t the same thing,” Ben replied. “I don’t got no family out there worrying about me.”

Julie’s shoulders slumped, and she wondered, not for the first time, whether time had carried on at home, and if everyone thought that she and Tim had gone missing. Maybe there were flyers up at Fran’s, and vigils at school and everything. Things hadn’t been the best at home lately, but she knew that her disappearance would break her parents’ hearts. She swallowed back another wave of tears.

“Look, it ain’t my business, but if you got folks out there who love you, you oughta get back to ‘em.”

Julie shrugged sadly. “I’m starting to think that might be impossible.”

“Everything’s impossible, ‘til it ain’t.”

Julie turned sharply and looked at Ben’s profile in the moonlight. It was bizarre to hear Tim’s enigmatic words repeated by Ben.

“Tim’ll look after you, anyhow,” Ben said, as though he had read her mind. “Guy’s sure buggy for you.”

Julie frowned. Obviously Tim had been doing a bang-up job of pretending to be newlyweds. Eyeing Ben with interest, she elected to turn the conversation away from her.

“You know Sofie’s pretty crazy about you, right?” she said. “I mean, I’ve seen the way she looks at you when you’re not looking and all that, but also, she basically told me so. I’m just saying, you know, in case you weren’t sure and didn’t want to make a move.”

Ben squinted at her. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Julie replied. “You don’t even have to take her to a movie or out for coffee. I bet you could ask her to dance right here, tonight, and she’d take you up on it.”

Ben continued to stare at her for a moment before frowning and looking away.

“Can I bum a smoke?”

Julie turned to see Sofie strolling up, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. It was clear from her expression that she had not heard them; Julie guessed that if she had, she would never have approached them at all.

“Sure,” Ben said gruffly, retrieving his crumpled pack of cigarettes and holding it out to Sofie. She took one, and Ben held his lighter up, watching her closely as he lit her cigarette.

Julie took a deep breath in and hopped off the truck bed. “I think I’m gonna go turn in,” she said. “Night, you two.” Ben’s eyes met hers and she raised her eyebrows and gave him an encouraging nod before turning away and wandering through the melee of trucks and trailers. As she passed the lead truck that Jonesy drove, something prompted her to pause and look back.

Ben and Sofie were sitting on the end of the truck, so close that they formed one silhouette in the bright moonlight. Julie watched as they bent their heads together, speaking too softly for her to hear their words. Ben seemed to be asking Sofie something, and she shook her head in response. They fell quiet, both of them staring off into the dark. Then Ben said something more and Sofie looked up at him. Ben leaned in and kissed her. Julie blushed. She felt like a creep, watching them, but she couldn’t seem to force herself to look away.

After a minute they parted, watching one another warily. Then Sofie smiled and said something, and Ben smiled back. Sofie took his hand in hers and stood, tugging him towards the cab of the truck.

Julie watched them get inside, the smile on her face slowly fading. She crossed her arms, holding herself. She was glad for them, and she hoped they would somehow fall in love and stay together, and look after each other through all the things she imagined they might have to live through. Maybe that was possible for them.

But all their happiness really did was emphasize the loneliness she felt at being so very far away from everything she knew and loved, and appreciated now more than ever, when she had no clear way of getting back, and no idea whether she would ever see any of it again.

Sighing, Julie turned and picked her way aimlessly through the deserted carnival.

“Jules, hey! Where’ve you been? Been looking all over for you.” Tim came strolling up to her from between two trailers, his hands shoved in his pockets as if he didn’t have a single thing to worry him.

Julie opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Her words seemed to stick in a lump in her throat, and she felt her eyes sting as they began to well up. Coming to a stop in front of her, Tim frowned.

“Jules, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. Please don’t cry.”

“I - oh, Tim. What are we gonna do?” Before she could explain herself, a sob wracked her chest and she had to bury her face in her hands to hide her teary face from him. There was a brief pause, and then Tim abruptly gathered her into his arms, holding her close.

“Whoa, it’s all right,” he said, his voice soft and soothing. Julie closed her eyes and let her cheek rest against his chest. “We’re gonna figure out a way to get back home, Jules, I promise.”

“I feel so stupid, crying about it,” Julie sniffled. “But I’m scared, Tim. I don’t like it here; we’re not supposed to be here. I miss my mom and dad, and Gracie, and Tyra and Lois. I even miss school and football games. What if we can’t get back? Not ever?”

“We’ll stick together and figure something out, Jules. I swear.” Julie felt him press a kiss to the top of her head, and she swallowed hard. She knew Tim was just being affectionate in a friendly, brotherly kind of way. Too bad his hand stroking her hair made her feel anything but sisterly.

“I’m sorry about what I said, too,” Julie said softly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I don’t know what I meant. I just... I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tim replied, continuing to run his hand down her hair.

She pulled away enough to look at him. He was looking down at her, his brow furrowed in contemplation. Their eyes met, and the look lingered so long that Julie blushed and knew she had to break away, but somehow she couldn’t force herself to move. Tim broke the stare first, but only so his eyes could drop to her lips. His frown deepened, and he leaned forward as Julie stood up on her toes and met him halfway, her lips parted.

Tim did not kiss her the way Julie expected him to. She would have expected Tim to be a messy, forward, sexual kind of kisser. She was wrong; he kissed her like he was confused, like he was surprised to find her there and didn’t quite know what to do with her. Neither of them moved. They were still caught in a hug and he didn’t move his arms, so Julie had to stand there with her arms trapped under his, wrapped around his body, while he pulled her close and kissed her like he was determined to figure her out.

The strangest thing of all was the way the air suddenly smelled like an oncoming thunderstorm.

Julie’s eyes drifted closed, and their surroundings seemed to fade from her consciousness. Tim finally broke the kiss to take a breath, hugging her closer and sighing roughly against her cheek. Julie opened her eyes and frowned, blinking as she struggled to understand what she was seeing. Over Tim’s shoulder, the sky was a weird green-grey, heavy with storm clouds, but it was gilded where sunlight was beginning to emerge.

The night had disappeared in an instant, replaced by daylight. The sound of a car honking nearby broke the eerie silence which surrounded them.

“Tim, look,” Julie whispered, pulling away from him as she realised what had happened.

They stood on the sidewalk outside the grocery store in Dillon, Tim’s truck a mere five feet away from them. Broken glass littered the damp pavement at their feet, and an ambulance and a fire truck sat in the parking lot, their lights flashing.

“You two all right?” Julie broke Tim’s embrace and turned to see an EMT a few feet away, staring at them.

“We-we’re fine, I think,” Julie replied shakily. “Tim?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Tim muttered.

Looking sceptical, the EMT nodded and turned away. Several people were sitting nearby on the sidewalk, having their cuts and bruises examined by the other EMTs, as firefighters went in and out of the taped-off grocery store.

“Your clothes,” Tim said, turning to look at her. Julie glanced down at herself to find that she was back in the outfit she had been wearing the day of the tornado, and that her bag was hooked over one shoulder. Tim, too, was back to normal, his grey Panthers t-shirt firmly in place.

“I don’t understand.” Julie stared up at Tim in bewilderment, but he looked just as baffled.

“I guess it didn’t make much sense, being there in the first place,” Tim replied.

“No, I guess not. But... But we didn't get to say goodbye to Sofie and Ben. What will they think, if we’re just not there in the morning?”

“They won’t think anything, Jules. Chances are they’re both dead by now.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Julie agreed sadly, swallowing the lump in her throat.

They stood in silence, detachedly watching the chaos around them as they gradually accepted that they were back in their rightful time and place.

“Let’s go home, Jules,” Tim said finally, digging into his pocket and pulling out his keys.

They drove home in bewildered silence. There had been no vigils or flyers. It was like their world had paused in anticipation of their return. When Tim pulled into the driveway, Julie hopped out before he had even turned off the engine. She burst into the house and found her mother standing in the kitchen, tearing up a head of romaine lettuce for a salad.

“Mom!”

Tami jumped and turned around. “Oh my goodness, there you are! You weren’t answering your phone and with this storm, I was worried sick! The power’s out, and there are trees down all over town! There have been all kinds of accidents and I had no idea where you were. Where is your head at, girl? Why do you think your father and I got you that cell phone if not for situations exactly like this one? I mean honestly, sweetheart -”

Julie pushed her way into her mom’s arms, burying her face in her shoulder and hugging her tight.

“Honey,” Tami breathed, her arms coming up to hold Julie and stroke her head. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Julie whispered, swallowing hard. “I’m all right.”

It wasn’t until much later that night, after dinner and a retelling of the tornado portion of their adventure to her parents and Aunt Shelly, that Julie settled into her own familiar bed, looked up at her bedroom ceiling, and began to feel profoundly awkward about having kissed Tim Riggins.

***

It took Julie several days to reacquaint herself with modern life. Everything seemed louder and busier and faster than she remembered, and lights which once seemed necessary now felt too harsh to be tolerated. Julie found herself spending a lot of time alone in her room, in the dark, nursing a headache and a strange sense of bereavement that would not subside, regardless of her relief at being back where she belonged.

That Tim was still sleeping on their couch did not help, as she found she no longer knew how to behave around him, and so had begun avoiding him instead. The weather was starting to turn chilly, however, and her insistence on walking to school rather than getting a ride with him was earning her some dubious looks from her mother.

She avoided him with success for several days, until one night when both her parents had late meetings at school, and Aunt Shelly had a class, leaving Tim and Julie in charge of Gracie. Julie had hoped that Tim might take the opportunity to go out, but he seemed perfectly content to sit on the couch, watching Top Gear and playing with Gracie. Julie retreated to her bedroom under the pretence of studying. She spent the evening reorganizing her bookshelves and staring at her ceiling.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Ben and Sofie, and she couldn’t stop thinking about what happened between her and Tim, and what it could possibly mean that their kiss seemed to precipitate their return home.

A knock on the door disrupted her musings.

“Jules?”

Julie rolled over onto her side on her bed, her head flopping listlessly towards the door. “Yeah?”

“Think you could give me a hand? I need some help with Gracie.”

Sighing, she stood up and opened her door to find Tim standing in the hallway, a determined expression on his face. “What is it?” she asked.

“Come on,” he replied, turning and heading towards the living room. Julie followed him, her eyes narrowing when she spotted Gracie happily ensconced in her playpen.

“Did you just use my baby sister as a way of getting me out -” Julie trailed off, frowning as she sniffed the air. “Is that... Did you bake cookies?”

“Yeah. You like chocolate chip?”

“Yeah, of course,” she replied, confused.

“Good. Come here,” Tim said, continuing into the living room and sitting down on the couch. A plate of hot, freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies sat on the coffee table. Julie walked over and sat down, glancing at him where he sat on the other end of the couch.

“I didn’t know you baked,” she said, reaching over and grabbing a cookie before settling back more comfortably into the couch.

“They’re just the kind where you drop them on the tray and bake them,” he admitted somewhat sheepishly. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, watching her cram the rest of her cookie in her mouth.

“Still,” she shrugged. “Thanks.”

“Things have been kinda weird since we got back, and I thought a peace offering might help.”

Julie immediately felt guilty for freezing him out. It wasn’t his fault that she was unhappy. She hadn’t been sure he’d even noticed her distant behaviour; after all, it’s not as though they’d been best friends before finding themselves whisked through time together.

“I have something I want to show you,” Tim continued, before Julie could find the right words to apologise. He leaned forward and picked a notebook up from the table. Its battered cover was marred by messy pen marks and splotches of white-out, as well as a Dillon Panthers sticker, half of which had been torn off.

“This is where all the academic magic happens, huh?” Julie asked, as Tim opened it in his lap and began leafing through pages covered with illegible, incomplete class notes.

He stopped at a page and handed the notebook to her. In Tim’s uneven scrawl, Julie could see he’d drawn what looked like a basic family tree. From a little box marked ME, Tim had drawn a line to his parents, Walter Riggins and Tracey Hennessey. Nothing more had been added above his father, but above his mother, he’d gone back a couple generations. His mother’s name was connected back to her parents, William Hennessey and Odessa Hawkins. Julie gasped when she saw where Tim was pointing.

The little line above Odessa Hawkins’s name led to two more names: Benjamin Hawkins and Sofie Hawkins.

“Oh my god,” Julie breathed, looking up to see Tim watching her with a grin on his face. “How... What... Tim, they’re your great-grandparents!”

“I know. Crazy, huh?”

“Whoa. That is... That’s really messed up, actually!” She laughed.

“No kidding,” Tim replied.

“How did you find out about this?”

“Well, the name Hawkins was kinda bugging me, like I remembered it from somewhere. I was suiting up for practice when it hit me that Hawkins was a family name I remember my mom mentioning. I never really knew my grandparents all that well, ‘cause they lived up in Lubbock, and we weren’t real close with most of my mom’s family. Anyway, I called Billy and asked him, and he didn’t know anything, but he told me to call my Aunt Deb in Lubbock. When she read this out to me over the phone, I thought I must have been hearing her wrong. She didn’t know Sofie’s last name, though.”

“Wow,” Julie said, shaking her head. “Tim, that’s really amazing.”

“I know. And I know you’ve been kinda down since we got back. I wanted you to know that it looks like maybe things worked out okay for them. I think you were a part of making that happen. So, thanks.”

“I didn’t really do anything,” Julie replied, shrugging.

“I also wanted to say sorry for the whole kiss thing.”

Julie felt her face heat with embarrassment. “Tim, we don’t have to -”

“I shouldn’t have acted like nothing happened, so I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t really handle it any better,” Julie mumbled, looking down at her lap.

Tim didn’t reply; he just watched her for a moment before clearing his throat. “I’ve been doing some thinking about the whole thing. I was pretty pissed about the whole cooch show thing, you know.”

“I know you were.”

“Yeah, and the more I thought about it, the more I figured that it wasn’t ‘cause I thought I needed to protect you or anything like that. To be honest, I think I was jealous,” he said.

“Jealous?”

“Yeah, I think I was jealous. I didn’t like the idea of all those guys looking at you like that when they don’t even know anything about you, don’t give a crap about you. I like you, Jules,” he said. He paused, searching her face. His brows drew together in a frown and he cleared his throat. “Listen, you know that fall formal on Friday? You wanna skip that and go out with me?”

Embarrassed, Julie looked down. “Tim, you don’t have to ask me out. It’s... I mean, it was an unusual situation, to say the least, and emotions were running high. These things happen.”

“No, Jules, I really like you, and I wanna go out with you. If you wanna go out with me.”

“I didn’t think you did that, went out on dates,” Julie said carefully.

“I could go on dates, if I wanted to, and I do. With you.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he replied, smiling. “Is it that hard to believe, that I’d wanna go out with you?”

“No, I guess not,” she laughed.

Tim blew out a relieved breath. “Good, ‘cause it’s kinda hard to believe that you’d wanna go out with me.”

“Yeah, right,” Julie replied, rolling her eyes. Tim continued to smile, watching her. Julie felt herself blush under his gaze, but she did not look away.

“What?” she whispered. She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to lower her voice; they were alone. The moment just felt very private.

Tim tilted his head and moved closer to her, one of his hands resting on her knee. “I was thinking I wanna kiss you right now,” he replied.

“Oh. Well, okay,” she breathed. Tim leaned in, exhaling a breath that stirred her hair, tickling her arm. “Wait,” she said, pulling away. “Do you think it’s safe? I mean - what’ll happen if we kiss again? I don’t want to end up in the middle of World War II or something.”

“I don’t know,” he replied, his eyes still trained steadily on hers. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“I guess so.” They watched each other for another beat, and then Julie closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his. She felt him smile, and he rested a hand on her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her collarbone.

Nothing happened. Nothing supernatural, at least.

-end-

*This actually happened to my grandmother at a RCAF dance during the war, when she was a dancer, so hat-tip to her and to the English pilot who wanted to know if her name was Virginia.