A/N: chapter ten already, and I STILL don't own Drop Dead Fred… oh well. Sorry for the wait, I got stuck on how to end this chapter but I didn't have to add too much for a decent ending

A wild Plot appeared! Angie used Write…

It wasn't effective

shananana05: Thanks! Here's the next chapter!

MyraValhallah: Thank you! I love Drop Dead Fred so I'm glad you're enjoying this

ThatFredGirl: Thanks so much, I'm glad you like it

Sophia Marmalade Smith: Thanks so much for generally the entire review. I'd love to see Fred's house too, but I can't really imagine him going there very often

: Cheers, I hope you like the rest of it just as much

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ElykaEvelyn: Thank you! Hopefully you'll think the same about this chapter

Chapter Ten: Rearrangements

Fred looked proudly at the notepad in his hand. Lizzie had Imagined it while they were looking through the old books in his library. The reason he was so proud, was because it wasn't bad for a first try: it looked a lot like a child's crayon drawing of a notepad. He remembered the first time he had tried to Imagine something, and it had turned out far more crudely – then again, Lizzie had a good imagination. Really good. Absolutely great. And she'd done it before, with the house where she'd learned to stick up for herself, and the tree.

Together, they had compiled a list of anything and everything they could find which seemed useful. He wasn't totally sure where to start but he had a feeling some of the less-old books might have references to –

"Drop Dead Fred."

As soon as he heard Them call, he was in a totally different place. All around him was white fog, so thick that he couldn't see anything past his elbow if he stretched his arm out in front of him.

"We apologise," Their voices said, "for being of such little assistance, given your situation. There is very little we are able to do; however, we have decided to make some reassignments which may help your situation."

For a moment, Fred thought They meant him. Then he remembered that not all the same old rules applied to him anymore.

"What d'you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

"Three of your friends have been reassigned to three people Elizabeth knows."

Fred frowned. Lizzie didn't know any more children than Natalie, really, did she?

"They have not been assigned to children."

"What d'you mean?" he asked again.

Mickey Bunce had just gotten back in when he saw something very strange: hundreds of floating little pinpricks of pink light, moving together to form the outline of a rather overweight woman, wearing a vibrantly pink outfit.

There were literally no words to describe what he was thinking.

The woman looked at him and said, "Hello, Mickey."

Did he know her? He felt like he should.

"How do you know my name?" he asked.

"I'm Namby Pamby," the woman said, apparently ignoring his question totally. Then she added, "I'm your new Imaginary Friend," and he almost fainted right on the spot.

Lizzie knew the cafe where she was meeting Annabella only vaguely, but well enough to know where it was. It sat on the waterfront, with a beautiful view of the bay. She believed she'd been there with Janie once or twice.

Annabella met her outside the cafe, looking glamorous as ever in a pale long-sleeved blouse and a black pencil skirt. Lizzie herself wore dark leggings under a green tunic-top, and felt slightly underdressed now, but they sat down for lunch together, ordered, and immediately started talking about the one thing they had in common: Charles.

"He took me here a few times," Annabella said. "It's not as expensive as some of the other places and it's not very fancy but the food's good. I prefer seafood."

"He never took me here," Lizzie replied. "We went for seafood a couple of times, but all the time he was trying to convince me to try things only my mother would eat willingly. I hated it."

"Did he ever send you flowers?"

"All the time. And presents. Expensive ones."

"Me too," Annabella told her. "And he was always trying to persuade me of how we were so good together and all sorts of things like that."

"I know what you mean. He's really sneaky. When he proposed I wasn't sure, marriage being such a big step and all, and after Fred was gone I had to witness my parents' marriage fall apart on my own. I didn't know if I could go through with it if that was going to happen with us. My mother was the one who talked me into marrying him, and I could swear Charles put her up to it."

"Who's Fred?" Annabella asked.

"The man I was with when we met at the shopping mall." Lizzie replied.

"Really?" Annabella took a sip of her drink. "When Charles went back to you, he called me up, saying he had to take care of you because you had some imaginary friend called Drop Dead Fred or something. I didn't realise what an idiot Charles was, thinking that guy was imaginary. He made it sound like you needed his help because you were crazy."

The waiter came to take their orders for lunch and when he left, Lizzie said, "You're not far off the truth. Fred drives everyone crazy. But we've been friends since I was a child, apart from the twenty-one years when my mother wouldn't let me see him." She sighed. "Fred's always been there for me. He gave me the courage to leave Charles."

Annabella smiled. "See, why couldn't I have found a guy like that, instead of some idiot who just wanted to cheat on his wife? You're so lucky, Lizzie."

"I guess so."

Lizzie grinned, remembering something from when she was a child. Her mother was having a fancy party in the house so Lizzie was confined to her bedroom. She really did feel like a princess locked away in a tower now. And she was so bored.

"What's wrong, Snotface?" Fred asked, and Lizzie grinned, throwing herself at him.

"Fred!" she exclaimed, hugging him. Fred stumbled back, hit her bedroom wall and slid down it, crying, "No! Not the Hug Attack! How could you, Snotface? I'm dying! I'm dying!"

Lizzie couldn't stop herself from laughing. "Sorry Fred. Are you dead?"

Fred pulled a white flower from his jacket and held it between his fingers with his hands crossed over his heart and closed his eyes. His skin was turning completely white like a skeleton and his hair was going dull and limp. Lizzie laughed again. He was such a drama queen.

"Fred, get up," she said. "I'm bored, and mommy's throwing a big party so I can't go downstairs!"

"A party!?" Fred yelled, jumping back up and looking alive again. "Ooh, I love pulling pranks at parties!"

Lizzie knew this very well. In fact, at her birthday party, he'd seen a potential entire crowd of people to prank, and he'd become so excited that she'd had to fetch him a paper bag – which he hyperventilated into a few times, and then popped. Loudly.

"My mother won't let me leave my room," Lizzie complained. "It's not fair, Fred. I'm bored!"

Fred knelt down next to her and gave her a one-armed hug. "Then you're very lucky we're bestest friends, aren't you?"

She grinned. The fun was about to begin.

"You know what? You're right," Lizzie told Annabella. "I got really lucky with Fred. It's almost scary. He's such a child at times."

"It can't be that bad," Annabella said.

"Trust me. It can."

The waiter returned with their food.

"Is it okay if I ask how?" Annabella asked.

"How is it that bad?" Lizzie snorted. "Fred always got me into trouble when I was little. I always got blamed for everything he did, even when I couldn't possibly have done anything. My mother never believed me that it was really him, but Mickey – Mickey Bunce, the man we're living with now – did, and I think my father believed me a little bit, before he left. Then my mother wouldn't let me see Fred for twenty-one years, and I could swear sometimes he still looks at me and sees the little girl he used to play burglars and make mud pies with."

"That's so sweet," Annabella gushed.

"Not really."

For a while they talked about anything and everything else, and by the time they had finished eating, they had agreed to meet up again some time. As they were walking to the parking lot, Lizzie said, "Where's your car?"

"Oh, I'm walking today. I have some things I have to pick up."

"I'll give you a ride," Lizzie offered. "I've got to go visit my mother afterwards anyway. I want to put it off for as long as possible."

"Are you sure?" Annabella asked. When Lizzie nodded, she smiled and said, "Okay. Thanks."

They got into the car and pulled away, and Annabella asked Lizzie just to drop her off at the mall; but about halfway through the drive, Annabella began staring intently at the rear-view mirror.

"Annabella? What is –" Lizzie didn't even get to finish the question. Quickly she pulled over and parked the car. She'd spotted it in the mirror, too. And it was very familiar to her.

"FRED!" she cried aloud. But it wasn't Fred, of course. She took the ring he had given off, but she still saw it, so she put the ring back on.

A group of red sparks zoomed around in the back seat, like fireflies or fairies.