Disclaimer: Beetlejuice and all related characters belong to Warner Bros. I wouldn't take responsibility for BJ if you paid me. No way, baby.
AN: Did you google it? Aren't you even curious? A million thanks to Witchy Wanda and mywickedlyweirdnature for keeping me on track with this one. Twas a beastie! And thank you with cookies and ice cream to all my reviewers—you make this worth doing. mwah! mwah!
Chapter 15: The Last Bell Rings
Beetlejuice sat on the bed, genuinely confused for the first time in his entire encounter with this maddening girl, who was dashing frantically around the room, searching in all her drawers and jars. After canvassing the entire room, she turned on him, her tone accusing. "You threw it at me!" He looked at her, astonishment warring with nervousness in his expression.
"What?"
"You threw it at me." But she was no longer interested in him. She tucked her fingers into her pockets, and then dashed into the bathroom. A half-second later, she dashed out again, and fixed him with a wild stare. "Don't move!" And then she ran out the door. He heard her footsteps thunder down one set of stairs and then another. Silence, and then a cry of triumph. And then Chuckie was calling her name.
"Lydia, punkin? What's up? Is everything okay?" Beetlejuice snorted.
"Yer daughter just bought the crazy farm, Chuck," he muttered to himself.
"Dad! Come look at this!" Lydia's voice was full of maniacal energy. She clattered up the stairs again but headed the other way down the hall to her father's office. Beetlejuice heard Delia, muttering in confusion, following Lydia up the stairs and into the office. The door shut. He had been forgotten. He, who had made it all possible. Whatever it was. He scowled thunderously and fell into a magnificent sulk. That was the last straw. Lydia, her crazy family, and the frickin' penny were all OUT!
But before he could work his terrifying, dramatic exit, Lydia rushed back into the room and threw herself into his arms. She squeezed his ribs until they creaked, and then, to his utter amazement she kissed him soundly on each cheek. "It's real," she whispered, her mouth inches from his.
"Um… what the hell are you talking about?" His mind wasn't functioning properly.
"Buried treasure, Beej."
"Buried…" but then she was out of his arms and out the door again. He shook his head, bemused. Crazy as a loon.
It was late when Lydia came back to the room, flushed with excitement. She had driven with her dad and Delia to a rare coin collector near Hartford, and he had offered them $50,000 on the spot for the coin, which he told them was the rarest and most valuable penny in existence, minted by accident during the war when copper was scarce. He had thought there were only twelve. Lydia's was the thirteenth. Charles had thanked him, but had refused to sell. He thought he could get a better price at auction. Lydia wasn't entirely certain she wanted to sell it. But she was no longer carrying it around in her pocket. The dealer, realizing that he would not convince them to sell, settled for being really nice in hopes that they would allow him to broker the deal. He had given Lydia a protective sleeve for the coin. She set it now carefully on her dresser, in the frame with her mom's picture.
Beetlejuice, long passed from curious to bored stiff, was roused by her entering the room. He was feeling left out and frowned at her sullenly from the top of the canopy, where he lay belly down, his chin on his crossed arms. She smiled brilliantly at him and reached up to stroke his cheek. "Thank you, Beej." He looked down at her and chewed at his bottom lip.
"So what the hell was that all about, not that I care?" Lydia stretched out on her bed, and despite his grouchiness, he drifted through the canopy to settle directly above her. She smiled at him again, and he studied her elfin face behind guarded eyes.
"The 1943 penny, the one you threw at me?" She arched a delicate eyebrow at him. "It's what my mom was trying to tell me. She gave it to me, and after she died I kept it, like a lucky penny? Well, it's worth over a hundred thousand dollars. Buried treasure," she added, almost absently. The joy faded from her face. "But it's just money. I would rather have her back."
"Well, you can't. Sorry, sweet cheeks." And to his surprised, he found that he genuinely was. She turned away from him, and he realized that he had said the wrong thing to her. What he wanted to say was very different.
He struggled for a moment, and then frowned at himself. "Lydia, I… I um." Try again, BJ. "When you first moved in, I wanted you out. Now I don't know what I want." There. Gruff and ugly, just like everything else about him. Annoyed at himself, he faded out, hoping that she wouldn't notice, and at the same time, hoping desperately that she would. She was tearing him to pieces.
But what she said, he would never have expected in a million years of expectations. "Beej, I think… I think that you owe me a kiss." He stared at her openly now, stunned visible. Her eyes were wide. She looked so beautiful, and so young. Damn him for a fool, but he couldn't bring himself to tarnish her. With a sad smile, he settled beside her and reached around her shoulders to draw her up next to him. She closed her eyes, and he leaned to gently kiss her cheek.
As soon as his lips brushed against her cheek, though, her eyes snapped open. "No."
He pulled back from her, and frowned. "What?"
"No, I don't want you to kiss me there."
"You don't get to choose," he growled angrily.
"We agreed—"
"We agreed that you could say no. You didn't make me promise to respect your wishes." He grinned toothily at her. Ah, how his own devilish plan had turned on him. This must be what they meant by irony. But Lydia gripped his jaw in her hands, and he felt her fragile strength.
"So you were playing me." He nodded.
"Till the last bell rings, Lyds."
"Shut up, B." She rocked against him, and then she was kissing him, her lips pressed hotly against his. A wash of heat soaked him through, and he backpedaled, landing on his hands, staring at her with pure astonishment. Her mouth was open, and her eyes dark. He swallowed.
"Lydia." His voice came out in a strangled gasp. As he spoke, her face began to fall, rejection creeping in on her desire, her joy. He realized, in that frozen moment, that he was being an idiot. And he lunged for her, his arms curling around her, his mouth searching for hers, joining, falling. Kissing her; drinking her in as her small arms reached around him and held him close.
"Beetlejuice?"
Lydia dropped two feet to the bed with a startled scream. She shook her head, and realized what had happened. "Dammit. I really need to be more careful." She grinned, and touched her mouth where he had kissed her, and her cheek, still cool from resting against his shoulder. A whirring sound started up around her, and the moonlight caught the flicker of a handful of pocket change spinning rapidly around her head. She had no question as to who was the spinner. Swatting ineffectually at the coins, she collapsed on the bed. "If you let me fall asleep, I'll meet you in my dreams, Beetlejuice."
"My dreams…" came a throaty whisper.
"I don't trust your dreams."
Silence. Then, shiftily, another whisper in her ear. "Trade?"
:fin: