The Quest

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

A story of one young woman's quest to overthrow a despotic tyrant.

This particular evil overlord comes equipped with pom poms and fake eyelashes...

Submitted: October 30, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 30, 2017



Part 1

Georgina was about to embark on a quest. She was sure it was a quest; it did after all have all the trappings. There was, first and foremost, an evil queen to vanquish. Blocking Georgina’s righteous path, stood the monarch’s trusted henchmen, (or was that henchpeople now?). These villains, in turn, could count on the deluded masses for a steady supply of mindless minions to do their dark bidding. To prevail, Georgina could not act alone, valiant, and cunning, as she was; no, she would need a fellowship…

Her trusted comrades of adventures past would answer her call, but new, potent, allies would also be needed. The puissance of such a formidable band would be inadequate still, unless they could locate a talisman of rare power, thought lost for many years. All Georgina had were whispers of the artefact’s possible re-emergence; and yet those whispers gave sufficient hope that now might be the time to strike. Any further delays could see the dark queen’s authority made inviolate.

Lisa Traquaire must fall, and her rule over Multrees Secondary School must end. Georgina McDougal would give her all to see this happen, her conscience would allow now less. After all, hadn’t Burke said, “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing”? If that was the consequence of ‘good men’ doing nothing, there was no telling the utter calamity resulting from the inaction of good women.

Her purpose was pure, her goal clear; the plans were made, and the time was now.

Georgina lifted her phone from beside her one the bed, where it lay. Manicured fingers swiped and tapped, and moments later Duncan’s deep voice sang out a cheery, “Hi Georgina, what’s up?”

“Duncan! Hi there. I just thought you’d like to know that it’s time.”

“It’s time for what?” Duncan asked?

“Duncan! We discussed this only a few weeks back. You know, time for you to call in the favour that Gary owes you.”

“Oh yeah. I’m sure I can do that George.” A pause …”What for again?”

Georgina sighed, sometimes she was surprised Duncan remembered his own name. This was the boy who, after complaining for a whole term that being so long limbed left him with cold feet and hands when the weather turned chilly, Duncan had thanked Georgina for the lovely woolly mittens she’d given him for Christmas. Taking the lack of thumbs as a novelty, Duncan had proudly snapped himself wearing thermal socks on his hands, and made it his profile picture. Before Georgina could tactfully rectify the situation, Lisa had coined the moniker ‘sock puppet’; they had been 12 then, and now at 14, the name still followed him around.

“Ok Duncan, just call Gary up and ask him if he has, or can get a copy of the essay. You can do that, yes?”

“No problemo George! What essay?” he asked, cheerful, as he was simple.

Georgina’s frustration with Duncan had run dry long, long ago, and she replied serenely, “Don’t worry about that Duncan, you just tell him it’s me asking, and Gary will know what to get for you.”

“Oh Ok George will do! Is it urgent, only I’ve got to take Bryan to Primark to get new pants. He put his last good pair on the dog, and it buried them in a flower bed. Dad says he’s not prepared to have the gardener dig up perfectly good roses for a pair of pants.”

Georgina wondered for a disturbing moment why Duncan’s younger sibling only had one pair of underwear, before regaining her senses and replying,

“It can wait till you’ve done that, the world doesn’t need your brother going commando. But soon as you’ve done that, you’re getting on the phone, or preferably, going over to see Gary.”

“Rightyo George, I’ll get it done.”

Georgina had Duncan repeat back exactly what was to be done twice, before releasing him onto his own quest to find pants for his brother.

It was risky, leaving Duncan’s mission this late, but any earlier and word would surely reach Lisa, and Georgina worried what damage control she might mount given any amount of time. Still Duncan was reliable, and Gary owed him a whopping favour; assuming it existed, and assuming Bryan didn’t eat it, Georgina was confident of obtaining the essay.

Georgina brought up her phone memo app and ticked then ‘Deploy Duncan’ box. Next up was, ‘Visit Bastian.’ Georgina took a few seconds to tidy the bed where she had been sitting, and to confirm her computer was locked. That done, she was out of her door and heading downstairs towards the front door.

“Darling!” came her mother’s bright tones, “Is that you?! Can you do me a favour?”

Georgina considered temporary deafness before replying, “Yes mum, it’s me. Just heading out to see Bastian for a little. Won’t be long!”

“Oh how lovely, do say hello to Amani for me!” her mother replied chirpily, “Tell her not to slave too hard in the kitchen for the next meeting! I can’t compete with her exotic treats!”

Georgina made a mental note to omit, “slaving” from the relayed message; she didn’t know what was worse, her mum’s well-intended quasi-racist inclination, or Bastian’s mum who spent Friday afternoons cheerfully digging up recipes on YouTube™ since the family cook book(let) ran dry.  Still they were best-friends, and Georgina diagnosed it as mutually beneficial Stockholm syndrome.

“Ok mum, will do!” Georgina replied, making it to the bottom of the stairs. She turned seeing her mother, through the kitchen door, wreathed in a glowing aura of flour and sunlight, fingers tracing a cookbook held in the stand.

“Was that it?” Georgina asked hopefully. Her mother chirped,

“No no, darling, I was hoping you’d be able to pick up some coconut milk from the shop. No tearing hurry, you can get it on your way back from Bastian’s!”

Georgina considered for a second, decided this wouldn’t hamper her quest, and said she would, before giving her mother a wave and making for the door. One summer jacket from its peg, and her bag checked for keys and other essentials, and Georgina was off to see the boy who would be king.

Ten minutes brisk walk through Autumnal avenues brought her to Bastian’s house. Amani ushered Georgina inside, exuding a calm delight with the world which Georgina had never seen falter. In many ways, this was her life’s model, an associate professor in Psychology at 39, widely expected to be their next MP, and always so beautifully turned out. She’d actually thought her attendance at the local SWI meetings a calculating bid for political support. That was until she’d seen Amani’s undisguised glee over “innovations in sausage roll pastry” when her mother had needed help carrying shopping bags full of flour to an ‘open baking day.’ Georgina wondered whether all powerful people were doomed to such eccentricity, and what bizarre interests she would be heir to.

Bastian, hearing her arrival, sloped into view, and waved limply. “Hi George” he said with muted enthusiasm. The contrast between mother and son was stark in Georgina’s eyes. Where Amani was capable, palpably self-possessed, and beautiful, all Bastian had going was beauty. That beauty was, however, all Georgina needed; the rest could be supplied for him.

There was no time to lose, “Bastian, we have work to do if you’re going to be ready for tomorrow. Let’s get to it!”

Bastian docilely followed her to the living room, sitting where she indicated, across the coffee table from her. She opened her bag and took out three flyers, each with a slightly different brand of lurid colouring.

“This, ” she said pointing to the flyers, “is what we’re up against.”

A girl’s face stared from the centre of each psychedelic  print, pretty with big eyes, slightly oval face, and alabaster skin.

‘Vote Lisa, and keep the party started!” read the tag-line.

“We’re up against a witch, Bastian. Not only has she perverted the role of student-board president into a personal celebrity show; she’s doing it with slogans that make bugger-all sense!”

“Aye, but if I stand against her, she’ll make my life a misery. Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

Bastian wasn’t wrong. Lisa would make his life a misery; if she were given the opportunity. Not even Georgina would be able to field the lies and meanness that Lisa would throw their way. Never directly from her, of course, butter must always be seen to melt in her mouth; but her creatures would do their duty. Frankly Bastian didn’t make it a challenge, he slouched all the time, and had a disturbing habit of surreptitiously picking his nose. You never wanted to sit at a desk Bastian had used before you; he never had tissues.

Georgina wasn’t going to give her the chance. “Don’t you worry about that Bastian, I’ll take care of her. All you need to do is to stop having a hunch-back for a few days. Also use these for god’s sake.” She extracted a multi-pack of tissues from her pocket and slapped it into his hand. “Got it?”

Bastian looked at her gift in some bemusement, but nodded all the same.

Georgina continued on, “Right, last, choose one of these.” With that she extracted 2 further flyers from her bag, these in an IKEA sandwich bag. She opened the bag, and laid them before Bastian. In muted tones, they showed a Bastian who looked capable and statesmanlike. It had taken her hours to get the light just right, so that the sun sparkled from honest, brown eyes, and glinted from long, glorious eye lashes. Bastian had drawn the line at mascara sadly.

‘Vote for Bastian, see some Action’ read the embossed lettering.

This was the second edition. The first tag line, “Vote for Bast, vote for Class!” had seemed catchy. That was until Bryan had run away with an earlier print-out. A second or two with a felt-pen and he’d come back waving the defaced flyer, hooting, “Vote for Bast, Vote for ass!” Sensing a missed bullet, Georgina had gone back to the drawing board.

Bastian, predictably, selected the flyer without the White-tailed tropic bird motif. Georgina was sure adding the Bermudan national bird would add international flavour and increase his cache. Bastian, on the other hand, was sure people would just ask why he liked seagulls.

Bastian whined, “Georgina, are you absolutely positive we have to do this?”

Georgina sighed, “Bast, do you remember when Lisa suggested that Chess club move out of the old gym on Friday afternoons, because dance club had expanded to need more than just the new sports hub?”

Bast looked up glumly, “Aye, chess club has never recovered. When I started the room was always full. Miss Toolin took teams to play competitions all the time. We came second in the Edinburgh league my first year. Since we had to move it’s just me, a few others, and anyone who gets sent to detention.”

“Do you think anyone else should have to deal with nonsense like that? ” she asked pointedly.

“No, I suppose not. I’ll do it!” Bastian straightened in his seat, and Georgina thought a student president might lurk inside him yet.

“Right, I’ll get the print-run done when I get home. You know the drill for tomorrow. Look sharp. Get your mum to dress you.”

She said goodbye to Amani, and then Bastian saw her to the door, grumbling that he didn’t need help to get dressed. Georgina thought that Bastian definitely needed help, but said nothing, wanting her man to be confident for the day ahead. Then she was gone, and ‘Shore up Bastian,’ was checked on her memo app. The reluctant hero was going to fulfil his destiny, or Georgina would see him die trying.

Next up, the memo app read, ‘Close the Alterton twins.’ Georgina headed for the bus stop.

It took Georgina about 30 minutes to make the trip, and morning was tipping towards afternoon as she arrived. She’d never visited before. The 2 story house was nice enough, clipped hedges and tidy flower beds flanked the path to the door. It certainly didn’t look like the lair of erstwhile enemies, but Georgina was ready for anything.

She never saw the point in hesitation or self-doubt, and so she pressed the door-bell and waited. A minute or two later, a figure darkened the frosted glass of the door, and it swung open.

Percy Alterton stood there, and just looked. Georgina took the lack of instant hostility as a positive and bulled on, “Hi Percy, is Sammy in? We need to talk.”

Percy, in active-wear, as always, and slightly shorter than her, just kept looking. His sister walked up behind him, looking over his shoulder to see their visitor. She too, looked. Sans make-up, and with her hair shorn, she might have been her brother. They spoke together, “What do you want?” emphasis on the ‘you.’

“I’ll keep it simple. Lisa screwed you both over, you didn’t deserve it. It’s time for you to make new friends.”

The two-headed creature seemed to consider her words, and then both replied in unison, “Why should we talk to you?”

Georgina had been prepared for this, “Because I’m offering you a path to justice.” The words had sounded good when she’d rehearsed them in her head; it sounded a tad ‘Batman’ when she uttered it. The twins continued to stare, and then Sammy replied, “We can get out our own back thanks. We don’t need your help.” Emphasis on the ‘you.’

Georgina was, as ever, prepared, “I’m not offering revenge, like I said, you can have justice. I’m not interested in getting at Lisa, all I want is her to lose the presidency, and realise she can’t go on treating people the way she does. You can help.”

“How?” Percy asked before his sister could verbally scowl in response. “We look like idiots after what Lisa did. No one’s talking to us.” Lisa had voted against school trips to M&D’s saying it was too dangerous. The twins had spent weeks getting student support for an end of school year trip, counting on their best mate Lisa to ‘sort them out.’ When Lisa had voted against it, it had scuppered the idea before staff even considered it; the responsible vote of the student council even made it to the local papers. It had left the twins looking stupid; it only got worse when the school bus was reserved, only a week later, for a cheer-team competition held the same day.

“Guys, guys,” Georgina’s hands came up urging forbearance, “people like me, know what happened to you. We can spread your story, and let people know how you were let down. We can let the pupils know that friendship, and a trip that would be good for everyone, was less important than the cheer-squad. A cheer-squad, that Lisa is captain of!”

“People just think we’re whining, ” Sammy offered, glumness creeping into her tones, “we tried explaining. Didn’t help.”

“You didn’t have me helping then though.” Georgina offered confidently.

“Oh really! And what can you do then?!” asked Percy sceptically. Georgina was getting tired of the ‘you’ emphases. It wasn’t like there was anyone else here offering to help these two twits out.

“I can get you on board with Bastian’s campaign. When he’s elected, we’ll see to it your trip is back on.” She gave them a smug grin; she’d earned some smugness. “All I need from you is to be seen handing out flyers tomorrow morning, and to share your story. That could be all some people need to see Lisa for what she is.”

The twins did the twin-telepathy thing, and a few seconds later they nodded. She shared the meeting time and point. They did eventually invite her in for some juice. They were Netflix-ing and she could join them. Georgina considered this particular chill session, and politely declined. She had places to be, and mental-scarring to avoid.

Another tick beeped into life on her phone screen. The 30 minutes it took to make her way home was time enough to tick off yet another. She was busy on her phone the whole way, martialling the marginalised, and bolstering the confidence of comrades. They would be there tomorrow morning, they would be ready.

A few minutes diversion took her past the ScotMid, and Coconut Milk in hand she strode back to her homestead with a righteous hunger for lunch ready for sating. She turned into her driveway and stopped dead. 


Lisa Traquaire was waiting on her doorstep. Her bitterest foe lowered gleaming Aviator shades, smiled and said, “Hello George.”


Part 2


Georgina was at a loss for a second. Then came the mantra, ‘what would Amani do, what would Amani do?’

So Georgina smiled, and asked if Lisa would like to come inside for some tea and cake. Lisa demurred, saying, “Oh I don’t touch cake. Perfect nutrition makes perfect champions. But tea would be nice, caffeine is a fat burner!”

Georgina thought that Lisa was a perfect something, but instead maintained her smile and opened the door for her unexpected guest.

It was, curiously, not Lisa’s first time visiting Georgina’s house. She didn’t live far away at all, and when they had been in primary school they had been regular attendees at each other’s birthday parties. They had generally occupied the same classes, and when class-wide invitations were produced, there was no animosity to cause either to decline. That had stopped once secondary school began, each seeking and finding distinctly different company.

Georgina indicated for Lisa to make her way to the living room, or ‘lounge’ as her mother insisted on calling it. Once she had Lisa safely seated, she excused herself and delivered the Coconut Milk to her mother. Her mother promptly shooed her back to her guest, saying she would bring some tea and treats in in a jiffy.

Georgina found Lisa perusing the family pictures on the wall and mantle. Georgina regarded the long golden hair, the slim-fitting ripped jean shorts and strappy top her nemesis wore; what cheerleader movies did she think she was in? She must have heard Georgina return, for she spoke without turning, “You have such a lovely family Georgina, you’re a lucky girl.” Georgina didn’t know why, but she found the words a little threatening.

“I suppose so Lisa, I suppose so.” she said, thinking, “Anyway, come and sit down and tell me why you’ve come to visit?”

Lisa cat-walked to the seat, and purred, “So, we have a few things to discuss. You’ve been being a bit of a bitch Georgina.”

Slightly shocked by her rivals abrupt and open hostility, George watched slightly wider-eyed as Lisa took her seat. Gathering her wits, Georgina replied, “I think that’s uncalled for Lisa, I’m only supporting Bastian to become new student council president. That’s called democracy.”

Lisa was about to say something when Georgina’s phone rang. Taking it from her pocket she saw Duncan’s name on the screen. She apologised to Lisa and walked into the hall to take the call. There was no door, so they were both still in sight of the other.

“George, good news, Gary got it; I’ve got the essay!” Duncan’s voice was full of victory. “He wasn’t too happy about it, and said Lisa would give him hell.” Duncan remembered to breathe, “I said that it wasn’t as much hell as he’d have gotten from Mr.Stuart from nabbing test answers from his bag if I hadn’t said Bryan did it.”

Georgina closed her eyes in relief, Duncan hadn’t screwed up, they were going to make it. “Duncan, have you read it?”

“Only the title and the first few sentences George, but they are amaaaaaaazing.”

“Read them to me, please?” Georgina said breathily. She heard some rustling, and then Duncan began, “The title is ‘Grandpa’s Magic Touch.'” Georgina was not aware that she had ever made the ‘squee’ noise ever before. Duncan continued, “Grandpa has skilled hands. Here is the story of how he replaced all the door handles in my house.”

Georgina looked back at Lisa who returned her gaze steadily; in her mind seeing how this ill-judged piece of writing could be leaked to leave Bastian the last candidate standing with any credibility. It had all been too easy. Lisa was a dead-woman walking. “That’s enough Duncan, just remember to bring it with you to school tomorrow. What are you going to do with the essay now?”

“Erm, not much?” Duncan offered.

“No Duncan, you’re going to put it in your school bag now. Fold it carefully, don’t crush it. What are you going to do?”

Duncan repeated the command a few times before Georgina was satisfied, and she let him go, but not before telling him how brilliantly he had done. She could feel him preen down the phone.

The call ended, she pocketed the phone and walked back to the Living room, and took her seat; Lisa’s gaze followed her every step.

“So was that Duncan telling you he got my essay from my stupid brother?” Lisa asked, with no hint of anger or emotion.

Lisa was enjoying far too much success with leaving her open-mouthed, but Georgina recovered herself enough to say, “Maybe?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lisa said non-plussed, “My stupid brother is terrible at keeping secrets. To be honest it’s a relief. Until I saw your face I wasn’t sure if it was that, or if he was rifling through my underwear.”

At that moment, Georgina’s mother entered with a tray of tea and a plate neatly arranged with slices of cake. She set it down with a satisfied sigh.

“There we go girls. So good to see you again Lisa, it must have been years. I hear that you’re doing very well with your dancing from your mother.”

Lisa smiled beatifically, “Thank you Mrs. Murray, yes, dance and cheering have been very rewarding.”

“Well,” her mother said glancing between the two girls, “I’ll leave you to your chat. Hope to see you back soon Lisa. Give my best to your mother.” With that she made her escape back to the kitchen.

“As I was saying,” Lisa continued, “I’ll take mild fraternal betrayal over incest. So, the question is, what are you intending to do with it?”

Georgina was readjusting, her wits returning, “Well Lisa, think what you would do if you had something like that on me, or one of my friends, but classier.”

Lisa smiled, though not with her eyes, “Oh Georgina, what did I ever do to make you hate me so much?”

“Hate, “Georgina retorted, “I don’t hate you Lisa. I just don’t think it’s healthy for you to have any power. It’s, how can I put it, not safe.”

“Not safe?” Lisa responded, no animosity in her tone, “and would things be safer with Bastian in charge? You know, the boy, who leaves his mucus to biodegrade wherever he goes?”

“Bastian may be nasally challenged,” Georgina fired back, “but he’s a good person. He looks out for his friends, not like you and the twins for example.”

Lisa grimaced, “Oh those two, and their trip. Yes, it seemed like a great idea, but then I overheard them planning to sneak booze along with them. I just couldn’t trust idiots like that being even remotely responsible for other students”

“Couldn’t you have just had a word with them? Told them their plans would spoil things for everyone?” Georgina offered, knowing even as she said it, that it was a lame suggestion. Lisa just looked at her, and eventually Georgina nodded in concession.

“Well, even allowing that you did do the right thing there,” Georgina bowled on, “You still ruined Chess club for Bastian and the others.”

“I ruined chess club?” Lisa retorted, not without some passion creeping into her voice. “After Miss.Toolin and her wonderbra vacated the school, numbers magically dwindled. Then you struck up your debate and academic quiz teams, and that was it for the girls too.” She looked at Georgina pointedly, “Maybe if your would be president Bastian could keep his fingers out of his nose, straighten up and flutter eyelashes that we would both kill for, things would have been different. He just gave up.”

Georgina wasn’t sure that sex-appeal was the way to save Chess club, but she saw Lisa’s point. Perhaps changing venues had been a symptom, not a cause, of Chess club woes.

“By the way” Lisa asked, “were you considering letting any boys onto any of the teams this term? I know that Miss. Dolan oversees selections, but we all know she dotes on your opinions.”

Well that stung, Georgina was nothing if not open opportunity. Wasn’t she supporting a boy to become president, and not herself? Why was she questioning herself, anyway, everyone knew that Georgina Murray was a friend to all. All except Lisa.

“If a boy, or boys,” Georgina offered with some dignity, “trial and show sufficient talent, they will make the teams.  Andrew Jones is first reserve on debate squad, or didn’t you know?”

Lisa did not look convinced, “First reserve, I’m sure he’s super excited about that.”

Georgina was getting agitated. She stood and began to pace, eyes flicking to Lisa. “Well you certainly did nothing to help Chess club. Did you? Didn’t you realise that mattered to some people? Don’t you think a good president would at least try?”

Lisa leaned back in her seat, she shouldn’t be getting more comfortable! “Georgina, I’m not mother to everyone who wants to have a club in school, that’s just not practical! Plus he’s never actually asked for help. No all he does is do an impression of Eeyore giving sniders.”

Now Georgina knew Lisa was being a bit careful with the truth. “Oh come on, Lisa. When I did start trying to get the debate and academic quiz teams started, you were not helpful!”

“Oh sue me, so I prefer sports and dance teams.” She pointed a finger, “You want to big up your stuff, fine, get yourself on the student council. Like it would even be difficult for you. But no, you just want to complain.”

Georgina was far too busy for that sort of thing, she had no interest in entering the court of public opinion. “No thanks, Lisa, I’ll leave getting everyone to like me, but being actual friends with no one, to you.”

“Again, what did I ever sodding do to deserve how much you hate me Georgina?”

“Oh like you don’t know!” Georgina wasn’t feeling her usual composed self, “In primary school you were more than happy to hang out, and be friends. The second you got to secondary you changed. We were the two kids from Simpsons to be in the Multrees catchment. You couldn’t wait to ditch me, you couldn’t bloody wait!”

Lisa froze half risen from the chair, just staring. “Georgina, we were never, like, proper friends.”

Georgina was in full flow now, she simply carried on, “No shit sherlock, but you could have hung around, we could have supported each other while we got to know other people. Duncan was the first person I got to know, and then you decided to make a joke about him, just cause he’s a bit slow?”

Lisa, it seemed, was surprised, mouth agape. Well it was her bloody turn, thought Georgina, who carried on, “So you don’t give a crap about anyone, and you think it’s hilarious to make fun of people. You are not the sort of person who should be in charge of anything. I’ll not have it.”

Lisa finally seemed to find her tongue, and straightened up, eyes still wide, “George, I didn’t think you were interested. You didn’t say or do anything to make me think you’d want to be pals. As for Duncan, did you see the other jokes that got made? I think having my one stick was a blessing!

“Even if that was true, you enjoyed the attention that got you Lisa, I saw you!” Georgina hissed.

“Oh come on Georgina! Of course I did, I made a silly joke that made a lot of people laugh. I felt as new, and alone, as you. The attention was nice.” Georgina huffed in some exasperation, “Did you ever ask Duncan if he actually minded?”

George realised that, no, she had never asked Duncan. If she were honest, she wasn’t aware that Duncan had ever mentioned it. Was it possible he thought it was ok?

Georgina came to a disturbing conclusion, her rationality refused to be cowed, “Lisa, are you suggesting we could be friends?”

Lisa looked aghast, flicking her blonde tresses, then laughed, “Oh God no, I hate you and your friends. Just not in the way you think I do!” George felt sure she had lost charge of this exchange, she did not like it. Still she never backed down, and offered up a huffy, “Oh yeah, do tell why then!”

Lisa took a moment and then walked to the other side of the room, admiring herself in the mirror over the mantelpiece. She turned and looked at George squarely, “You’re just not my sort of people. You’re all a bit serious, you think fun is having a debate on something dull. You’re all for growing up, just not in the fun ways.”

Lisa turned back to the mirror, gloss appearing from her pocket, and carefully applied. She spoke again, this time without turning, “You would have stopped those moron twins from helping lead that trip, and you know it! Thing is, it’s because you think all drinking is for morons. Me? I’ll get hammered this Friday and love it. All the same I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

Georgina felt herself relax, the natural order was restored, she would not have to explore her conscience and seek  enlightenment. “I knew I was right to want to stop you Lisa. Thank you for clearing up just why it’s so important. You’re … a bad influence!”

Lisa faced her once more, chuckling, “Well as long you hate me for the right reasons. I think we’ve probably said all we’ve got to say, wouldn’t you?”

Georgina found herself agreeing. With that Lisa walked up and offered a hand. Georgina shook it without thinking, and seconds later, Lisa was gone. Georgina was left to think, eat cake, and take up the sword of justice once more.

A few days later, campaigning had begun, and Lisa and Bastian were deep in competition for the crown. Georgina, Lisa observed, had found some way to keep Bastian from digging for gold with his spare hand, whilst shaking hands with the other. That was quite an achievement she had to admit. After a tiring day in school, encouraging her chums to “decorate” Bastian’s posters, and trying to woo the remainders of the chess club with promises of cheerleader attendance if they voted for her, she returned home.

Gary had been in her room again. The hair she had stuck across the entry had fallen. Please god, don’t let him be in there wearing my hot pants she thought. She entered, no one was there. It took her a second to realise there was something different; a piece of paper lay on the bed, a large yellow post-it attached.

She pursed her lips and advanced on the paper. It was her essay. Grandpa’s magic touch was hers again! The post-it read:


“Dear Lisa, we’re going to beat you. But we’ll do it fair-ish.

P.S. “Grandad looked so proud every time he finished polishing a new knob” …Lol.”




Lisa Traquaire was waiting on her doorstep. Her bitterest foe lowered gleaming Aviator shades, smiled and said, “Hello George.”


“Dear Lisa, we’re going to beat you. But we’ll do it fair-ish.


P.S. “Grandad looked so proud every time he finished polishing a new knob” …Lol.”

© Copyright 2018 W.J.Quinn. All rights reserved.

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