Chapter Three

Beatrice:

"Greasy knows something about me? And he's hiding something from me as well?" I asked, repeating what Tommy said.

"That's right." He replied while chewing the last bit of his kolache.

"How did you figure that out?"

Tommy swallowed and cleared his throat.

"There were some details that stood out and gave me the meaning of your dream. First, you mentioned that Greasy was wearing a mask. We both know what a mask is. It's a symbol of concealment. But in your dream, Greasy's wearing a mask that appears to be melting like candle wax. That tells me that he's hiding something from you, but he's probably doing a bad job."

"That would explain why the mask appears to be melting." I said.

"Right. Second, after you said that Greasy took his mask off, you said that his face was black and white while his clothes were still in color. That could mean that even though he took his mask off, he's still not being completely honest about himself. It could also mean that there still some things that you don't know about Greasy."

I nodded slowly in understanding.

"The third detail, the one of you appearing to look like someone from a black and white movie, is making me think that you're probably hiding something from Greasy." Tommy continued. "I'm aware that you didn't wear a mask in your dream. That tells me I think that you appear to have nothing to hide from Greasy. But at the same time, you're hiding something from him and he somehow knows what it is you're trying to hide."

"And that's why he said, 'I can see your true colors, Beatrice'?"

Tommy nodded.

"Well, I don't know what I'm trying to hide from Greasy." I replied. "I mean, he doesn't know that I'm researching his past. But what else could I be hiding from him?"

"I'm not sure." Tommy said. "My oneiric cognition didn't allow me to analyze that. It only showed me what we both wanted to know."

"And I guess that means we'll know the answer at some point in the future?"

"Let's just say that."

I nodded in agreement.

"Oh, by the way, I thought about what we talked about last night." Tommy stated. "Have you thought about what you plan to say to Smarty and the others if they find out what you've been doing?"

After a minute of thinking, I shook my head slowly.

"Not that I can recall." I said with uncertainty. "But assuming that they do find out, I will be honest with them. And after that…"

Oh, no. What SHOULD I do or say after that?

Oh, gosh, why DIDN'T I think this through?

I thought I did!

Well, maybe I did and forgot about it at some point?

I don't know!

I wish I could remember thinking about it! But I can't remember! And now I'm panicking just thinking about it!

...I can't believe that I'm actually going to say this to Tommy.

"I actually don't know what to do after that."

There, I said it.

"You haven't thought that part through?" Tommy asked.

"Well, to be honest, no." I replied and placed my hand on my forehead. "I don't know why. Maybe I was too occupied with wanting to learn more about the Toon Patrol and didn't think that part through. Or maybe I thought it was going to be a good idea to never actually tell them because I still kind of rely on bottling up secrets."

Tommy motioned his hands to indicate that I had to calm down.

"Okay, okay." He said. "I'm not angry that you didn't think about what could happen if the Toon Patrol finds out. But since we're now talking about it, I'll agree with what you said earlier. If Smarty and the others find out, then, yes, you should be honest with them. And I'll help you out if you need it. It'll just be like how we worked together almost a year ago."

"You mean when I was slowly getting my voice back?" I asked, knitting my eyebrows.

"Yeah. Is there something wrong with that?"

"The helping part? No. The idea of you being my voice? I'm kind of...hesitant about that."

Tommy raised one of his eyebrows a little.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because I'm thinking that you're going to try to do all of the talking when I want to speak for myself."

Tommy raised both of his eyebrows and shook his head.

"No, no, no, no, no. I actually mean that I'll be with you for support."

"Oh!" I said and laughed. "Oops!"

He chuckled.

"I know you're good at speaking, Beatrice. And don't you forget that."

"I won't."

"And I won't speak up unless you allow me."

"I'll make a mental note of that."

"So, we're good?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Sweet."

Right after Tommy said that, I picked up the box of kolaches and walked my way over to the fridge. After I opened the fridge, I noticed that there's not a lot of food in it. There's a...let's see, a half gallon of milk that's getting close to being empty, three individual eggs, some leftover fast food, an unopened package of bacon, two cans of Dr. Pepper...and that's about it.

I sighed and thought as I put the kolache box in the fridge,

I guess it's time to make a grocery list.

"I'm planning to go grocery shopping at some point today. Is there anything that you want me to add on the list?" I asked Tommy.

"Hmm, I can't think of anything right now. I'll let you know if I do."

After I closed the fridge door, I walked over to one of the kitchen drawers, and took out a notepad and pen. I flipped open the notepad and wrote GROCERY LIST. I heard Tommy walk out of the kitchen as I wrote down the necessary items, such as another half gallon of milk and one carton of eggs.

Wait a minute. I thought and stopped writing. It's probably a good idea to call Dad and check if he wants anything from the store.

I then walked over to the house phone, dialed Dad's number, and brought the phone up to my ear. One hum...two hums...three hums…

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dad." I replied.

"What's up?"

"Oh, uh, I'm making a grocery list. Is there anything you want me to get at the store?"

"Hmm, let me think."

Right after he said that, I heard someone knocking on the front door.

Who could that be?

"I'll get it!" Tommy exclaimed.

Then, I heard Dad say,

"The only things I can think of are sandwich stuff and Dr. Pepper."

I wrote the said items on the list.

"Okay." I said and heard the front door opening and closing. "Anything else?"

"I don't think so."

"All right."

"Do you know where to find the grocery money?"

"Yes, I do."

As I said that, Greasy walked into the kitchen. I waved at him and mouthed "Hold on" as Dad spoke.

"Perfect. I'll see you and Tommy later today."

"Okay, Dad. I love you." I replied.

"Love you too."

"Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone, placed the grocery list on the counter, and turned to Greasy.

"Hey, Greasy! How are you doing?" I said.

"I'm doing good." He replied with a smile. "Just thought I'd swing by and chat."

"Okay. What's on your mind today?"

As Greasy replied, he walked towards the table and sat down.

"Did you get my note about the dance?"

I nodded and sat down next to Greasy.

"Yeah." I replied. "And I thought about the dance last night. I actually would like to come."

"You do? ¡Bonito!" Greasy exclaimed.

"The only problem is that...I don't know what to wear. Do I have to wear something...fancy?"

Greasy shook his head.

"No, de ningún modo. You just wear something comfortable but casual."

"Does that mean I have to wear a nice shirt and jeans?"

"Hmm, you actually have to wear a dress that you can wear while dancing."

Hmm, that's going to be a little tricky.

Why?

Because, other than the dress Cressida gave me on the last day of school, I don't have any dresses.

Or maybe I didn't look hard enough the last time I looked for one.

"I don't know if I have a dress like that." I explained to Greasy. "I'll have to check my closet...right after I change out of my pajamas. Can you wait in here for a couple minutes?"

"Si." He replied.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

I walked out of the kitchen, down the hallway that led to my bedroom, and walked into the said room. Then, I opened my closet, took out a blue tank top, walked towards my dresser, and took out a pair of white shorts. Finally, I quickly changed out of my pajamas and put on my outfit for today.

I sighed and said to myself,

"All right, now it's time to look for a dress."

As I looked in my closet, I knew for a fact that the only dress I have is the one Cressida gave me on the last day of school. That was mainly because for an obvious reason: I didn't have any dresses to wear. I gave them away when I was a kid and realized that I had no interest in wearing anything too girly, which became something that my mom and I would argue about for a long time. But since I told Greasy that I plan to come to The Jitterbug, I want to at least try to step out of my comfort zone.

(In fact, I think it's a good idea to try to wear something that I don't normally wear sometimes.)

"Nope. Nope. Nope." I mumbled while looking at all the baggy shirts in my closet.

When I finally reached the dress that Cressida gave me, I sighed.

Just as I predicted, looking for a dress appropriate and comfortable enough is going to be a tricky task for me.

...But I shouldn't give up just yet. Maybe I'll-

Wait.

I just noticed something sitting in the bottom right corner of my closet. I don't think I've seen before until today.

I pick up the thing-Hold on, I recognize this. I found it many years ago when Kaitlyn and I played dress-up one time. What "it" is is a package wrapped in brown wrapping paper and once belonged to my grandmother before she died.

I wonder what it could be.

As if it were aluminum foil wrapped around a burrito, I carefully tore off the packaging paper in a circular direction. Then, after one whole circle, I saw that there was some dark blue fabric in the remaining bit of packaging paper.

Wait. I thought. Could this be something that Grandma used to wear?

I pulled out the thing out of the last bit of packaging paper and unrolled it.

"Oh, my gosh! It's a dress!" I exclaimed softly.

It was a short-sleeved navy blue dress with some white polka dots scattered around the top. Even though it had been wrapped up for...who-knows-how-long, the dress looked like it was in excellent condition.

It looks perfect! I thought. But is it okay to wear? Wait, why the heck am I acting like I'm going on a date? I'm just hanging out with Greasy and everybody else in the Toon Patrol!

I quickly walked out of my room and down the hallway. As I entered the kitchen, I saw that Greasy was still sitting at the table. I announced,

"I think I found the right dress."

I walked towards the table and carefully laid the dress down. Greasy's eyes widened and he exclaimed,

"¡Esto se ve increíble! How long has this been in your closet?"

"Apparently for a long time. And it used to belong to my grandmother."

"Well, it looks beautiful! Have you tried it on?"

I shook my head.

"Do you think I should, just in case?" I asked.

"Wouldn't hurt to."

"Okay. I'll be right back...again."

I picked up the dress and walked out of the kitchen. Like I did the last time, I walked down the hallway that led to my room. This time, however, I walked into the bathroom instead. Then, I locked the door, stood in front of the bathroom mirror, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly slipped on the dress.

I opened my eyes...and I couldn't believe what I was seeing!

The dress...

It fits! I thought. And now for the hardest part: showing it to Greasy.

I took another deep breath, smoothed out the dress a little, unlocked the door, and walked out of the bathroom. While my heart was beating pretty quickly, I walked down the hallway. I was really close to entering the kitchen when I just...stopped walking.

Did I do that out of nervousness?

Probably so.

I knew that I was being ridiculous.

I'm just going out with friends. I thought. I mean, Greasy knows that I'm not ready to date. I shouldn't be freaking out about that. But wearing a dress to a casual place? That's...unusual. And I'm not a fan of wearing dresses. Of course, on the other hand, it's probably possible that Greasy wants me to dress up in something that's appropriate in his time setting. Yeah, that could be it! Well, if that's true, then there's really nothing to worry about.

I took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen.

After stopping in front of the table, I watched Greasy put something in one of his trouser pockets. He looked at me right when I was about to take another deep breath. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped a little.

"Oh, eso se ve…" I heard Greasy whisper.

"W-what?" I stuttered.

"That dress looks amazing on you!"

"Really, it does?"

"It does!"

I exhaled and chuckled.

"Well, I'm glad you think so." I said, feeling my cheeks burn a little.

And thank goodness you said yes. I thought. Looking for a dress is a nightmare for me.

Greasy smiled in a way that made me think that he was detecting my nervousness. I knew because I've seen him give me that look before. Every single time...when I'm nervous...or anxious about something.

"Are you nervous about something?" He asked.

I had a feeling Greasy was going to ask me that!

And there's no way that I'm going to lie about it!

I glanced around the kitchen.

"Maaaybe?" I replied, twiddling my fingers.

With a knowing but caring smile, Greasy crossed his arms.

"Are you nervous about going to the dance club?"

"...A little." I said. "I can dance, but only when I'm learning a routine."

Greasy chuckled and replied,

"Just between you and me, I'm kind of the same."

My eyes widened a little.

"Really? Wow, I didn't know that."

"And that's why I thought of a plan."

"What is it?" I asked as I pulled out a chair and sat down.

"It's pretty sencillo. We—you, me, the others, Cressida, and possibly Tommy—go into The Jitterbug, get settled in, do a dance, hang out for a while, and then leave."

I chuckled.

"That sounds really simple. But I do have some questions. First, how long do you plan for all of us to settle in?"

Greasy aimed his eyes at the ceiling. After about a few seconds, he said,

"Mm, I was thinking...ten minutes."

I nodded.

"Sounds reasonable." I replied. "And when you brought up dancing, are you thinking of everyone in our group doing a slow dance?"

"No. I actually thought about doing…that one dance that you did for a class project. I don't remember the name of the song, but it had something to do with zoot suits."

Dance? Class project? Zoot suits?

Oh, yeah. I thought. I know which dance you're talking about.

"Are you thinking of Mr. Zoot Suit?" I asked.

Greasy snapped his fingers.

"Yes! That one!"

"And I suppose you want everybody in our group to learn the dance?"

Right after I asked that, the kitchen lights flickered a little.

Oh, no! Of all times, why are they flickering right now?! I thought. Darn my telekinesis!

Greasy shook his head.

"No, that would be a bad idea." He replied.

The lights stopped flickering.

"I was thinking of saving that dance for the two of us."

"How are we going to do that?" I asked cautiously.

Greasy looked at me and replied,

"We talk to whoever's in charge of the música and they'll allow us to dance to Mr. Zoot Suit."

Wait a minute. I thought while blinking in surprise. Does this mean—?

"You're allowed to make song requests at The Jitterbug?"

Greasy nodded.

"Si, and that's why I picked Friday. Whoever has a song request gets to dance to it in front of everyone. That happens every Friday."

My eyes widened.

WHAT?! I thought. IS GREASY SERIOUS?

"You're pulling my leg!" I said.

"¡Lo digo en serio!" Greasy laughed.

"Okay, now that's really interesting!"

Again, Greasy laughed.

As he laughed, the kitchen lights began to flicker again.

Ugh, why?! I thought.

The interesting part was the song request thing. But the fact that Greasy's thinking about dancing to Mr. Zoot Suit…I mean, does he even know or REMEMBER the steps?

The flickering got worse, meaning that it got so fast that it was almost to the point of causing the light bulbs to explode. That made Greasy stop laughing. He looked at the lights and then looked at me.

"What's making the lights do that?" He asked.

"I think I'm doing it." I stuttered.

Greasy knitted his eyebrows a little.

"How are—? Oh, wait. It's your power, right?"

I glance around the kitchen before sighing.

"I'm sorry." I answered quietly.

"Are you feeling nervous again?" Greasy asked.

"I think I'm a little more anxious than nervous."

"If you don't want to dance, I'm okay—"

As the flickering slowed down, I shook my head.

"No, I'm not anxious about dancing." I said. "I'm not anxious about going to The Jitterbug either. What I'm slightly anxious about is dancing to Mr. Zoot Suit."

Greasy nodded slowly.

"Do you still remember the steps?" He asked.

"Yeah, I still do. But I don't know if you know the steps to the dance."

Greasy slowly shrugged his shoulders.

"I kind of do, but not too well."

Okay, that doesn't sound too bad. I thought. It's better than not knowing the steps at all, right?

"But I still want to do the dance." Greasy added.

Right after he said that, the flickering stopped.

I could tell that Greasy really wanted to give the dance a try. I heard the honesty in his voice. Maybe because of that, I want to help him. True, he knows that we're only friends. But he treats me like I'm his girlfriend at the same time. I mean, I've been okay with it…so far. It's an unusual relationship that Greasy and I are having. But at least it's been a good one, even though we kind of had a rocky start when we first met.

I took a short deep breath and replied,

"All right. Since you're being honest with me, I would be glad to show you the steps."

Greasy's eyes widened.

"You would do that?" He asked.

I nodded and smiled.

"Yeah." I replied. "You're one of my good friends and I'd like to help you out. No strings attached."

Greasy got up, walked towards me, and placed his hands on my shoulders. He smiled and said,

"You are amazing, you know that, cariño?"

I shrugged lightly, causing Greasy to chuckle and wrapping his arms around me.

"Oh, of course you are."

After saying that, he kissed my head.

While I hugged him back, I thought,

What a strange relationship the two of us have. We're good friends, but Greasy's the only one who's showing affection. From what I've noticed, he tends to do that whenever I do or say something nice for him. I honestly kind of like it when he does that, like what he's doing right now. But I consider Greasy as a friend. Wait. Does THAT make me a bad person? I don't think so. I mean, I'm still trying to get to know Greasy. I'm still trying to understand him. And I'm taking my time trying to—

The kitchen lights began to flicker again right as Greasy pulled away from me.

Oh, no, not again!

Somehow, Greasy didn't notice.

I don't know how, and I don't care.

But at least, that gave me the motivation to force myself to calm down. Thankfully, the kitchen lights stopped flickering when Greasy asked,

"When would you like to teach me the dance?"

I shrugged a little and replied,

"Hmm, I'm free anytime after lunch today. What's the best time for you?"

"I'm free all day."

"Okay. Uh, does one o'clock sound good?"

Greasy nodded.

"It's perfect."

"All righty. And don't you worry. You'll know all the steps to the dance before Friday. I can guarantee that."

(Hey, y'all!

I bet y'all have noticed that my new username. I'm no longer called "imaginarytoon1" on here. I'm now called "BeatriceBirchwood01". Let me tell y'all what's been on my mind.

The reason why I changed my username is because I want to keep my time on this website private. In case if y'all are wondering, I'm not going to give up on The Birchwood Twin(s) series. Not yet. The series still means a lot to me, but I've been experiencing a feeling like I'm kind of moving on from writing fan-fiction stories. Additionally, from what I've noticed, I've been spending a lot more time trying to focus on my future. Because of that, I'm not spending a lot of time writing fan-fiction. I've considered finishing this, the (possible) third and final part of Of Toons and Tragedies, and A Haunting in the Acme Factory before permanently ending my time on here.

To conclude this Author's Note, I have an important announcement:

After I thought about changing my username, I've decided to tell y'all to do me a big favor. It's this: Please keep my fan-fiction identity a secret. It's really important that y'all do. Disregard every Author's Note that has my old username written as my signature, call me by my old username in Private Messages...do whatever y'all can to keep my fan-fiction identity private.

Thank you very much.

-BeatriceBirchwood01

PS: Some of y'all might've noticed that I recently deleted my "Fazbear Phobia" story. It's because I have lost the motivation and inspiration to keep working on it. For that reason, I thought it wouldn't be fair to keep y'all waiting on a discontinued story.)