Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Wow, the waves were great today,” Daisy says as she and Lincoln trek across the beach. Their hair is wet, they’re covered in sand, and they’ve spent all day in the water. Some of that was just being dumb and splashing water on each other, but most of it was on their boards.

“I wish it could be summer all the time,” Lincoln says. “I wanna spend every day surfing with you.” He somehow manages to look both moody and wistful at the same time.

“Totally,” Daisy agrees. “I’m so glad we’re best friends. I can’t imagine a better surfing buddy than you.”

Lincoln slips into sullen silence for a minute, which Daisy ignores, and then he says, “Let’s get food. You think Jeffrey has anything good?”

“There’s definitely leftover homemade pizza from last night. And we might be able to con him into ordering takeout for dinner.” Daisy grins. “C’mon, let’s go.” She starts jogging, forcing Lincoln to keep up.

When they arrive at Daisy’s house, her foster dad Jeffrey is nowhere to be seen - not in the kitchen or the living room. “Hello?” Daisy calls, until she finally gets to the room Jeffrey calls his “office” (it isn’t, it’s basically just his excuse to have a space to goof off in). The lights are dimmed and he has the TV on. “Oh, there you are.”

“Hey, kiddos,” Jeffrey says cheerfully. “You wanna watch with me? I was thinking about making some virgin piña coladas too, if you want them.” He smiles. It didn’t take him long to figure out that as far as Daisy was concerned, being the fun dad was much more effective.

“What is it?” Daisy asks, but before Jeffrey can answer Lincoln yelps “Wet Side Story!”

Daisy sighs. “Oh god, not again.”

“Yes again!” Lincoln plops down on the floor, staring raptly at the TV. “I’m so glad you agree this is the best movie ever made, Mr. Mace.”

“You know you can call me Jeffrey,” chuckles Jeffrey. “You’re practically part of the family.”

This isn’t incorrect, muses Daisy. She and Lincoln became best friends pretty much immediately, when she arrived on the island four years ago, and they’ve been inseparable ever since. Jeffrey happily accepted him as a bonus kid, and has never complained about needing to make enough food to feed two teenagers five nights out of the week. Still, she can’t believe the two of them are so preoccupied with this stupid movie.

“Okay, I know you guys have shown me this movie before, but I seriously don’t get it,” she says, once there’s a lull in the songs. “Why do you like it so much?”

“Because it’s so fun!” Lincoln says. “It’s always summer, and always sunny, and Jemma and Fitz always fall in love and unite the bikers and surfers to save their beach. It’s a classic story of true love conquers all!”

“And the tunes are pretty rockin’, too,” Jeffrey adds, smirking like he knows he’s being a dork. “It just seems like a fun place to be.”

Daisy rolls her eyes fondly. “You guys are both huge dorks, you know that?”

“Never said I wasn’t,” says Lincoln, grinning, “C’mon, just watch a little with us? Pleeeeeease?” He gives her his best pleading face.

“I should make those drinks first,” Jeffrey says, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. Not two seconds after that, though, the phone starts ringing and he has to hurry across the room to pick it up. “Hello?” He’s quiet a minute, then he holds up his hand and says, “I’ll be right back, you two.”

Lincoln frowns. “What was that about?”

Daisy shrugs. “I dunno what he gets up to. Something to do with work, maybe.”

Ten minutes later, Jeffrey comes back into the room holding the phone and making a face. “That was the nuns,” he says to Daisy.

Daisy stiffens. “Aw, crap.”

“Wait, what?” Lincoln glances between Daisy and Jeffrey, frowning. “What nuns? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know if it’s my place to say,” Jeffrey sighs. “I’ll go make those drinks and be right back.”

“Daisy?” Lincoln asks.

Daisy’s quiet for a long moment. Then she says, “I... I have something to tell you.”

“Well, yeah, duh,” Lincoln says, frowning.

“So... I don’t know a lot about my birth parents, but I know that my mom didn’t have much of an education, and my dad had a PhD or something. I have a letter they wrote to me about how they wanted me to grow up with every opportunity and stuff. Anyway, then a month ago we got a phone call from some private Catholic academy or something in Milwaukee saying I’d won a full ride scholarship. And... and I guess it’s a really good school and stuff.” Daisy hangs her head. “Jeffrey thinks I should take it.”

“Well I don’t!” Lincoln yelps. “You’re supposed to stay here so we can surf together!”

Shrugging, Daisy says, “I know,” really quietly. She can’t bring herself to look him in the eye. “But this is what my parents would’ve wanted, I think, and orientation or whatever starts next week so we’re supposed to fly out there then if I decide I want to go, and…”

“No!” protests Lincoln, standing up. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“I don’t know, I just… I didn’t know how, and I’m not even sure if I want to go, but I don’t want to let my parents down…”

Lincoln shakes his head. “I gotta go.” He storms out.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, Daisy?” Jeffrey asks softly, trying not to make a face.

She nods, clutching her board in determination. “Yes. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna surf the forty-foot wave.”

“I don’t need to remind you to be careful,” he says, even though that’s in and of itself a reminder.

“Ew,” Daisy says, cuffing him lightly on the arm. “Don’t get all parenty on me. I know, I know. I’ll come back in one piece.”

“I’d hope you’d tell me the same thing,” he exclaims in mock-defense. “Waves like this are great, but they’re no joke.”

“Okay, you’re starting to sound like an after-school special now.” Daisy gives him a quick hug. “I’ll be careful.”

A crowd starts to form to watch the daredevil surfers who are going to try the wave - it’s something of a legend on the island. Daisy gives Jeffrey a salute and heads for the water. Just as she’s starting to paddle in, Lincoln appears, looking worried. “Do you really think she’s going to do it?”

“You know Daisy,” Jeffrey shrugs. “You can’t talk her out of something once she puts her mind to it.”

Lincoln sighs. “Yeah, I know. And she’s a great surfer, I just…”

“You just?”

“Dunno.” Lincoln scuffs the ground with his toe. “I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“She knows how to keep herself safe out there,” Jeffrey points out. “Are you sure that’s it?” He himself is pretty sure it isn’t.

Lincoln is quiet for awhile. Then he mutters, “No.”

“Am I supposed to encourage you to go get her?” Jeffrey asks.

“What is this, Wet Side Story?” quips Lincoln. Then he frowns. “Hey, do you think she’s doing okay? It’s getting pretty wild out there.”

“These aren’t the best conditions I’ve ever seen,” Jeffrey agrees mildly.

The others on the beach seem to agree, given that in minutes the groups break out murmuring, then saying, then exclaiming about how the waves are getting too rough, too wild, and too dangerous. Daisy’s still surfing, apparently oblivious to everyone else’s concerns. “Uh,” Lincoln says, “I don’t think she can hear us.”

“Yikes,” Jeffrey winces.

“I’m going after her,” Lincoln says, sprinting towards the area of the beach where the rental jetskis are parked. He’s driven one of those a hundred times, he knows the owner personally, it’s an emergency - it’ll be fine.

“Don’t you be unsafe either,” Jeffrey says.

Lincoln waves to show he’s heard him, and then starts out after Daisy. It’s easier said than done - he’s been out during some pretty rough weather, but this is really next-level. He manages to get close enough to her to yell, “Daisy!”

Daisy doesn’t seem to hear him, so he calls her name again. “Daisy!”

Finally, she turns to look at him, which apparently is enough to break her concentration just enough that she tips off the board into the water. He yells and tries to get closer, but just then the wind picks up and the waves get even choppier, and the next thing he knows he’s going underwater too.

They’re both strong swimmers, so it’s not even thirty seconds before their heads both pop up above the water. “Lincoln!” Daisy yells, spitting water. “Why did you do that?”

Lincoln blinks. “You mean go after you to save your life? I was worried, it was getting really dangerous!”

“Dude, I had it under control. How could -” Daisy pauses. “Wait. Why is it sunny?”

They look around. There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the sun is beaming down on them. “I don’t know, but I like it,” Lincoln says, grinning.

“But it was just -” Daisy freezes, looking back at the shore. “That’s not our beach. That’s not our beach.”

“What?” Lincoln turns around to look. “Woah. That’s so weird.”

The beach isn’t at all the familiar, comforting island beach with lifeguard towers and a rocky outcrop and tourist families frolicking. This beach is covered in teenagers. Teenagers that seem to be doing some kind of choreographed dance with surfboards and beach balls.

“What,” Daisy deadpans.

Lincoln is already paddling towards shore. “C’mon!” he calls back. “They look fun!”

“They look ridiculous,” sighs Daisy, but she grabs her board (which is floating merrily nearby) and follows him.

They reach the beach just in time to make out the tail end of the song.

During which the teenagers are lined up and apparently doing a roll call?

“I’m Callie!” shouts a tan girl with curly brown hair and a bikini that matches her blue eyes.

“I’m Trip!” says a dark-skinned black boy wearing bright blue swim trunks.

“I’m Kara!” declares a dark-haired girl with glowing skin and a purple one-piece.

“I’m Deke!” says a completely unremarkable white boy wearing ugly green plaid trunks.

“Red!” croons a tall girl with, unsurprisingly, both red (orange) hair and a red (red) bikini.

“Davy!” says a blond boy wearing a pair of swim trunks the color of denim.

“Abby!” chirps a tiny brunette girl wearing an orange, polka-dotted, and ruffled swimsuit.

“Sonny!” calls a tall brunette boy wearing beige-orange-blue-striped shorts.

“I’m Crystal!” shouts a blonde girl wearing a yellow paisley one-piece with a belt. She’s also, confusingly, accompanied by a giant bulldog, who takes this opportunity to bark rhythmically.

“And I’m Fitz!” says a skinny white boy with curly hair and turquoise shorts.

“And I’m Lincoln!” Lincoln yelps, jumping in and mugging for the invisible camera like he’s been waiting his whole life for this.

Then everyone turns to look at Daisy, who’s jogged up after Lincoln. “Uh,” she says, baffled. “I’m Daisy.”

All of the strange teenagers stare at Daisy for a moment before shrugging and resuming their dance. Upon closer inspection, there’s almost no way it couldn’t be choreographed.

Once it seems to come to an end, they all burst into laughter at the same time and run off the beach together, toward a little restaurant under a couple of palm trees.

Daisy and Lincoln stare at each other for a few seconds before Daisy says, “What was that?”

Lincoln is beaming. “It’s the movie!” he says, practically jumping up and down.

Daisy gives him a look like he’s sprouted a third arm. “Explain.”

“It’s Wet Side Story! That was the very first song in the movie, that sets up all the surfers,” Lincoln says. “I don’t know how, but I think... I think we’re inside the movie!”

“Inside the movie,” Daisy deadpans. “You know how that sounds, right?”

“Well, how else do you explain that musical number?” Lincoln asks. “And that this beach is an exact replica of the one in the movie. And that they’re all wearing outfits from the sixties.”

Daisy’s quiet for a second. “I don’t know,” she says finally, throwing her arms in the air. “They’re a flash mob, with really good outfits. The point is, this isn’t our beach, how did we get here and do we get home?”

Lincoln shrugs. “I dunno. Let’s go watch the confrontation between the bikers and surfers!” He skips off toward the restaurant. Daisy sighs and, after glancing around to make sure there isn’t a convenient way out of this, follows him.

When they enter the restaurant, the door closes loudly and all of the kids - the surfers, apparently, which makes sense considering their outfits and props and they fact that they’re on a beach, but still - look up, perplexed. “Who are you?” asks the one who’s apparently called Davy. “You’re not from around here.” Several of the others all nod along.

“I’m Lincoln,” says Lincoln, “and this here’s Daisy.” He nods at Daisy.

“We’re from, uh…” Daisy glances at Lincoln before saying. “Far away.”

Unfortunately, this is at the same time he says, “Not too far.”

In a panic, they look at each other again and switch their answers. “Not too far.” “Far away!”

Crystal, the girl with the dog, looks at them in confusion. “Which one is it?”

“Far away enough, but not too far,” Lincoln says quickly. “It’s a small town. That’s why we came here, ‘cause we wanted to surf.”

“Where are your boards, then?” asks Red suspiciously.

“Outside,” Daisy says. “Didn’t want to get anything in here wet.”

Abby and Callie frown at each other, but after a moment decide it’s easier to giggle. “What are you talking about, silly?” Callie asks.

Daisy blinks, and Lincoln quickly says, “So what’s good to eat in here?”

Deke steps forward, glaring. “We’re not really keen on outsiders,” he says. “I think you two should move along.”

“Woah, okay.” Daisy raises her hands and tries to hide a laugh. “What, do you own this restaurant or something?”

“No,” Deke says. “Just not a place you two should be right now.”

About half of the surfers (mostly boys) seem to agree, while the others may or may not actually care, but it’s an overwhelming enough vibe that Daisy tugs on Lincoln’s arm and nods toward the exit. “Let’s get out of here before they get punchy,” she mutters.

Just then, they all hear the revving of engines outside, and Lincoln beams. “Later,” he says to the surfers, and pulls Daisy into a corner of the restaurant. “C’mon, I just wanna see this, it’s great.”

Daisy looks both confused and alarmed.

“Aw, nuts!” Sonny exclaims. “Those darn bikers are coming.”

“Why do they even hang out here?” Red asks. “They can’t ride their bikes on the beach, the sand would mess them all up.”

Another one of the boys, the curly-haired one named Fitz, shakes his head. “They’re an odd lot. Who knows why they do what they do.”

“I think it’s to tick us all off,” Davy declares, shaking his head.

A tall white boy wearing a leather jacket walks into the restaurant, looking around like he’s scouting out the place. “Hey!” Deke barks. “We don’t like your kind in here.”

“Seems to me,” the new boy says, in a strong British accent, “that it’s a free country and my friends and I can be anywhere I like.”

“No thanks to you,” Kara calls defiantly, then waits exactly three seconds before adding, “You know, because of the Revolutionary War.”

The British boy gives her a withering look. Then he whistles and snaps his fingers, like he’s summoning something. Within a few seconds, a group of leather-clad teenagers are swarming into the restaurant. “I think you’ll regret saying that,” he says, glancing at his friends. “Lads?”

“What is happening,” Daisy hisses, eyes wide.

“Not all of us are lads,” snaps the tallest girl, a stunning girl with strawberry blonde hair. “Even if my name is Bobbi.”

“Y’know what I mean, love,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s show these losers what for, eh?”

She shrugs, almost devilishly nonchalant.

“Nobody disrespects Lance’s crew,” says the boy, whose name is apparently Lance. “Sound off, mates.”

“Robbie,” growls a boy with light brown skin and jet black hair, wearing a leather jacket with white lines down the front.

“Piper,” says an average-height girl with a brown pixie cut.

“Joey,” says a light brown skinned boy with facial hair.

“Izzy,” says a tall white girl with short brown hair.

“Idaho,” says a slightly lighter-skinned boy wearing a hat and a vest.

“Lucky,” says a dark-skinned black girl with an eyepatch.

“Mike,” says a black boy with very short hair.

There’s a dramatic pause, then a petite brunette who’s wearing pink where the other girls have red appears and sweetly announces, “And I’m Jemma.” She’s also British, although her accent is more Northern than Lance’s.

“That’s my sister,” Lance says, giving the entire room a wary look. “Don’t anybody go getting any ideas about her.”

Daisy pokes Lincoln. “They don’t even sound like they came from the same part of England,” she murmurs. “Or look alike at all. How are they siblings?”

Lincoln shrugs. “I guess they didn’t care about that when they were casting them. It was the 60s.”

“You don’t have to be like that, Lance,” Jemma murmurs, looking annoyed but sort of fondly so.

“Yeah I do. Gotta look out for you.”

Jemma sighs and goes over to the jukebox, followed by Bobbi and Piper. She starts to scroll through the songs, clearly trying to ignore the rising tension between the bikers and the surfers, and finally selects one with a satisfied smile.

“Hey, we were listening to that!” Deke shouts, looking annoyed.

“Well now you aren’t,” sneers Hunter, and snaps his fingers.

The next thing Daisy knows, everyone’s started dancing.

“Uh.” She glances at Lincoln, who is watching with rapt attention.

He grins over at her. “Isn’t this great?”

She just sighs and shakes her head. “Sure it is.”

The dance is starting to evolve into a choreographed showdown, bikers and surfers taking their turns advancing on each other while the bikers sing about violence, but in a totally charming way, obviously.

Daisy’s so busy trying to pretend like she isn’t in the middle of the most ridiculous thing she’s ever seen that she doesn’t notice that Lincoln’s heading to join the other kids until he’s already out on the dance floor. “Lincoln!” she hisses, horrified. “What are you doing?”

Lincoln’s too busy joining in on the absurd musical number to answer.

“I can’t watch this,” she sighs, walking out.

Chapter Text

“That was so awesome!” Lincoln says, bouncing a little on his heels.

Daisy sighs. “Did you have to join in? Was that really necessary?”

“Uh, yeah!” Lincoln looks at her like she’s crazy. “That’s only one of the best songs in the whole movie! Of course I’m gonna join in.”

“Oh my god,” sighs Daisy. “Look, whatever we have to do to get home, let’s just figure it out so I can -”

“Hey,” Bobbi says, appearing through the doors to the restaurant and looking Lincoln and Daisy over. “What are you doing out here? All the fun’s inside.”

Daisy blinks. “Uh. The air. Is fresh. Outside?” Then she immediately feels stupid, but she’s never been good at talking to hot girls.

“That’s usually how air works,” Bobbi agrees, like this is a perfectly normal conversation to be having. “I haven’t seen you two around before. What’s your story?”

Daisy looks at Lincoln, who is also making a stupid “ack a hot girl!” face, so she pulls herself together enough to respond, “We’re just here to... surf... and hang out?”

“You friends with any of them?” Bobbi asks, glancing inside with an inscrutable expression.

“No!” squeaks Lincoln. “Just fans of the ocean.” Daisy glares at him - could he sound more idiotic?

“I guess it’s a pretty nice ocean here,” Bobbi agrees absently, heading off with a wave behind her. “See you ‘round.”

Piper comes out of the restaurant too, nodding at them amiably. Everyone seems to be acting like there’s nothing out of the ordinary about Daisy and Lincoln’s presence now (because Lincoln danced with them?) and that’s probably a good thing. “You guys oughta come to the party later tonight,” she says casually.

“What party?” Lincoln asks, beaming. Daisy mouths no! at him.

“The one we’re having,” Piper says, as if that’s enough explanation. It’s possible (technically true) that nobody has ever asked her that question before, so she doesn’t really have an answer. Can’t people just have parties? “It’s going to be pretty cool. Jemma, y’know, Hunter’s sister, she’s performing.”

Daisy tries not to look too interested. That girl is cute in a different way than Bobbi, but she’s not not interested. She hadn’t really paid a whole lot of attention to the movie when it was just a movie, but having them in front of her... is different. “Where is it and when?” she asks, overly casual.

“Tonight, and here,” Piper says. “It’s gonna be a hoot. I’ll look for you two.” She salutes them and strolls off in the same direction as Bobbi.

“Okay, see you then!” calls Lincoln. “See? It’s gonna be great.”

“Whatever.” Daisy rolls her eyes. “Maybe there’ll be a clue about how to get home.”

“Who cares about going home?” Lincoln says. “This is so fun!”

“Uh, me?” Daisy asks, gesturing at herself. “Me cares about going home. Me doesn’t want to be stuck in the fictionalized sixties forever.”

Lincoln shakes his head. “You’re no fun.”

Daisy’s about to respond, but then she notices suddenly that their surroundings are much darker and, with a glance down at herself, she confirms that she’s not wearing her suit anymore. Now she’s wearing a pink dress. “What the fork! Fork! Fork! Why can’t I say fork! Shirt! God ham it! What is going on?”

Lincoln’s trying to stifle his giggles. “You can’t swear, it’s the sixties,” he points out, unnecessarily.

“Dude! So not important!” Daisy waves her hand at her new pink dress, then at his new t-shirt and shorts, then at the night sky above them. “What the shell is going on here!”

“It’s a timeskip!” Lincoln says. “Y’know, like in movies. It must be time for the party!” He heads inside.

“I hate this,” Daisy sighs, then follows him inside.

The “party” seems to consist of the two groups mingling amongst themselves, dancing on opposite sides of the room, casting the other group occasional suspicious looks, and listening to the band onstage. “Is this seriously what passed for fun?” Daisy asks.

Lincoln’s sort of bopping back and forth to the music. “I think it’s fun!”

Meanwhile, there’s a tall, glasses-wearing brunette that wasn’t in the earlier dance numbers striding over to a table of bikers with a tray of malts. “Here,” she says, sounding bored. “Two chocolate, two vanilla -”

“And one strawberry,” says Izzy, grinning. “Y’know, ‘cause of your lipstick.”

“It’s not ‘cause of my lipstick, that’s just a coincidence,” says the waitress, who is in fact wearing pink lipstick that sort of matches the pink drink she’s setting on the table.

“Well, it looks real nice on you anyway,” Idaho says, winking.

Izzy gives him something approximating a dirty look. Daisy frowns. “Well, that’s a little weird,” she says. “Is that in the movie?”

Lincoln blinks. “What? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Never mind. I’m so desperate for anything not stupidly heterosexual I’m seeing things.”

Trip comes over to them, smiling. “Hey guys. Glad to see you here.”

“Thanks.” Lincoln offers his fist for a fist bump, but after Trip politely looks confused at him he drops his head. “Never mind. The waves around here seem great.”

“Oh yeah, they’re the best around,” Trip says. “I can’t imagine being anywhere else. How long have you been surfing?”

“Since I was little,” Lincoln says. “Almost as long as Daisy, actually. Right, Daisy?” He pokes her.

“Uh,” says Daisy, who is trying not to engage as much as possible. “Yeah. I started when I was like eight.”

Trip looks impressed. “Wow. I mean, I’ve been surfing since I can remember, but I don’t think it’s been that long!”

“Hey, Trip!” calls Kara from the dance floor. “Come give me a spin, huh?”

“Sure thing, girl!” he calls, then salutes Lincoln and Daisy. “Be right back.”

“See you!” Lincoln says, waving as he leaves.

“At least this movie isn’t as creepily white as most of the movies set in the sixties,” Daisy snarks. “I feel a little less uncomfortable.”

“White?” asks Callie, who happens to be twirling by. “Sometimes beaches are white, but our sand is more… sand-colored. Light brown.” She nods.

Daisy doesn’t know how to respond to that except blink. “Yeah, I’m not explaining that.”

“That’s okay!” Callie says brightly. “Are you guys gonna dance? You should dance.”

“I think we should!” Lincoln says before Daisy can protest. “C’mon!” He drags her out on the dance floor. She sighs and goes along with it, because it’s easier than causing a scene.

Especially since a scene is already being caused - Crystal and Deke are dancing, but Deke is apparently very bad at it and keeps stepping on Crystal’s toes. (There also seems to be some issue with the fact that they’re literally the same height.) “Why are you so clumsy?” she whines.

“Sorry,” Deke says, not sounding especially sorry. “Don’t get under my feet and I won’t step on you again.”

“You’re a real goof, you know that?” Crystal sighs.

“Wow,” Daisy mutters to Lincoln, “real scintillating conversation here.”

Lincoln snickers. “I mean, they’re basically NPCs, they don’t have to have good dialogue.”

“I’d rather be dancing with my dog,” Crystal is saying.

As she does, Red sweeps by, laughing. “What say we show this boy how it’s done,” she suggests, taking Crystal by the arm. It’s clearly just that thing that girls do where they dance together, but, well.

Daisy’s eyes widen. “Well,” she says. “That’s. Heterosexual behavior.”

“What do you mean?” Lincoln asks. “It’s just dancing. You’ve never danced with your girlfriends before?”

“Yeah,” Daisy says with a snort. “With my girlfriends. In a gay way. Y’know.”

Lincoln decides to ignore this, and dances them over closer to the bikers side. “Dude,” Daisy says, “you’re gonna get us beat up.”

“No I’m not. We’ll be fine!” insists Lincoln. “They invited us anyway!”

Their new spot on the floor means they can hear an argument coming from one of the booths. “You’re always so overprotective,” Jemma is sighing. “I can take care of myself!”

“That’s what brothers are supposed to do!” argues Lance. “I’m s’posed to look out for you!”

“And when we’re in the middle of something scary, I’m glad,” Jemma retorts. “But the surfers aren’t scary! They’re just people.”

Lance shakes his head. “You don’t understand. They’re not like us, Jem.”

“That’s just how it is,” adds Robbie, who’s sitting across the table from them. “They’re all one twist short of a slinky.”

Jemma makes a face and stares across the room at the surfers. “You’re both being strange.”

“Just listen to us, Jemma,” Lance says, “and stay away from the surfers. Nothin’ good can come out of bikers and surfers mixing.”

“Hey!” Piper chirps, hopping up to the table. “C’mon, Jem, it’s almost time for the performance!”

“Oh!” Jemma giggles. “I guess it is.” She stands up, brushes imaginary crumbs off of her dress (it’s red with white polka dots, very classic), and heads to the stage, Piper and Lucky following. They start to test the microphones and get themselves situated.

Lincoln perks up. “It’s almost time for the main song!” he yelps.

“The what now?”

“It’s Jemma’s big performance, where she and Fitz fall in love,” he explains. “It’s so great!”

Daisy tilts her head. “After only one song? That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s a movie,” he says. “It doesn’t have to make sense!”

“No, but falling in love after only knowing each other for like five minutes is pretty stupid.”

Despite (or more accurately, oblivious to) these complaints, the backing track starts up. There’s not a band playing anymore, but the music doesn’t seem to be coming from the jukebox either. Maybe there are hidden speakers in the potted plants? The song isn’t bad, though. It’s not really great either, it’s just kind of a standard sixties do-wop schmaltzy thing, but Jemma… Jemma has a really nice voice. For, y’know, a dumb sixties pop song. (She also looks really cute, but Daisy’s not going to admit that.)

And then she can’t help but notice that Jemma bats her eyelashes and sings a line about how she’s not the kind to fall for some guy who… does something. Daisy raises an eyebrow - it doesn’t really seem to her like Jemma’s the kind to fall for any guy, but what does she know.

But for whatever reason, Jemma is really selling the performance. She’d seemed - not mousy, but not particularly show-offy earlier, so this is different. Daisy finds it kind of hard to stop watching her.

Then she snaps herself out of it. She has stuff to do, stuff that doesn’t involve watching cute girls sing about how they want to be in love. “Hey,” she says, poking Lincoln. “C’mon, we got stuff to figure out.”

Lincoln waves her off. “After this!”

She groans. “You’re being ridiculous, you know that? It’s like you don’t even want to go home!”

“Maybe I don’t!” he says, glaring at her suddenly. “Because if we go home, you’re gonna leave me!”

“I can leave you here too, y’know!” she snaps, turning her back to him. “Like right now! Fork you!” And she storms off past Callie and Crystal, who both look scandalized by her language.

She’s so annoyed she doesn’t bother to watch where she’s going... which is why she runs into someone at the door.

“Oof!” The someone has a distinctly Scottish accent.

“Oh, shirt!” she says, jumping back. “Sorry, I was, uh…”

“It’s alright,” Fitz says, grinning at her. “I was kind of hoping I’d bump into you.”

“Uh.” She draws it out, really intelligently. “Why?”

“You’re interesting.” Fitz is staring at her like she’s maybe some kind of insect that he’s caught and is now inspecting. “You’re not like any of the other girls around here.”

It’s all Daisy can do not to burst out laughing. “Thanks,” she finally manages to say.

“Can I sing for you?” Fitz has produced a guitar, apparently out of nowhere.

Daisy blinks at him. “Uh. Sure?”

Meanwhile, Lincoln is still watching Jemma sing, but as the song is quickly heading to an end, he glances around, looking for Fitz. Any second now, Fitz is meant to come over and catch Jemma as she trips off the stage. Any second…

And then, suddenly, she’s tripping and he’s running forward and oh shirt, he’s caught Jemma.

“Oh!” she exclaims, staring up at him. She looks a little confused, which is silly because obviously she can’t know she just got caught by the wrong boy, but it sure seems that way for a second. Then she regains her composure and says, sweet as pie, “I guess I really fell for you, huh?”

“Uh,” he says, intelligently. “You sure fell, all right.” Then he gently helps her get to her feet. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Thanks to you,” she says. “Gosh, you practically saved my life.”

“Really?” He coughs. “I mean, uh, you’re welcome, but it wasn’t that far to the ground. I think the worst that could’ve happened was that you broke a nail or something.”

She laughs nervously. Apparently he’s not quite as easy to charm as the boys she knows, or something. (That’s what he wants to think, anyway.) “I mean socially,” she says. “That would have been dreadfully embarrassing.”

“Oh.” He nods like he understands. (He doesn’t.) “Well, anyway, you’re welcome.”

“You’re the new boy, right?” Jemma asks, tossing her hair.

“Yeah,” he says quickly. “I’m Lincoln. And you’re Jemma, right?” He tries to stay casual about it, pretending she’s not one of the protagonists from his favorite movie of all time.

“That’s me,” she agrees, grinning. “It’s nice to formally meet you.”

“You too,” he says, smiling back at her. “Uh, now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find my friend.”

“I’ll come too!” she exclaims. She’s probably just tagging along for the novelty of it, but she certainly is tagging along, circle skirt and crinoline swooshing around her knees.

“Uh.” Lincoln desperately tries to think of a reason she shouldn’t and comes up empty. “Okay,” he says finally. “She’s wearing a pink dress. Her name is Daisy?”

“That’s a nice name!” Jemma says cheerfully, following him outside and glancing around in a way that could generously be described as guileless.

They find Daisy sitting with Fitz, listening to him playing the guitar and singing what is possibly the most insipid song ever written. Daisy looks like she’d rather be waltzing with an angry bear. The second she spots Lincoln, she mouths “Help me!”

“This must be Daisy,” Jemma says, apparently oblivious to Fitz’s crooning.

“Uh, yeah,” says Lincoln, giving Daisy a look that’s equally shocked and baffled.

Daisy shrugs at him, and when Fitz pauses for a deep breath she says, “Hey, listen, that was great, but my friend Lincoln is right over there, so I’m just gonna -”

“Lincoln?” Fitz asks, narrowing his eyes. “So he’s a boy.”

“Yeah, last I checked,” snarks Daisy. “Hi, Lincoln!”

“Oh, bonkers!” Jemma exclaims, looking totally put out but for a very different reason than Fitz (namely, her own lack of ability to read social cues). “Are you two together?”

Daisy and Lincoln exchange a look, Daisy’s a mixture of “really?” and “holy shirt did she really just use ‘bonkers’ as an epithet?” and Lincoln’s something between amusement and uncertainty. “Um,” says Lincoln. “I mean. We’re. We came to the party together, if that’s what you mean.”

“We aren’t dating,” Daisy corrects, poking him in the ribs. “We’re just friends.”

Fitz visibly perks up at that, and Jemma makes a funny little keening noise, like she’s not sure how to react now. “Oh,” she says. “You just seemed so… I don’t know.”

“Well, where we come from, boys and girls act like we do together all the time and it doesn’t mean they’re dating,” says Daisy. She sounds slightly less annoyed with Jemma than with the other two. “Anyway. Lincoln, I think we’d better have a quick talk.”

“Yeah,” says Lincoln, nodding, “good idea. How about over there?”

“Have a nice talk!” Jemma chirps, waving at them.

Daisy sort of herds Lincoln away and then, once they’re far enough away, she hisses, “Dude, I think Fitz is into me!”

Lincoln looks startled. “What? What do you mean?”

“He likes me, obviously!” Daisy glances over her shoulder at Fitz, who is still standing where she left him, watching her. When he sees she’s looking at him, he waves. She half-heartedly waves back and says, “See?”

“Uh oh,” Lincoln says. “That’s bad.”

“Yeah, no shirt it’s bad! I can’t have some stupid fictional 1960s boy mooning over me, I just want to get home!”

“Oh, I mean, that too,” Lincoln says. “But Fitz and Jemma have to get together, it’s part of the story!”

Daisy rolls her eyes. “Seriously? You care more about the plot of this movie than about getting home?”

“No, but... just think about it, Daisy! If they don’t get together, they can’t foil Dr. Fusion’s evil plot to ruin the weather with his weather machine and tear down Big Momma’s after the surfers and bikers all leave!”

Staring at him for a second, Daisy finally says, “Sorry, I don’t think I heard you right.”

“You’ve seen the movie!” he sighs. “You know, the weather machine subplot! The plan to turn Big Momma’s into a beach resort!”

“Uh,” she says. “I kind of remember something about that? I honestly tuned out after the party scenes.”

“Whatever.” He shakes his head. “The point is, if they don’t get together, they won’t be in the right place to catch Dr. Fusion and his henchman and get the bikers and surfers to work together to stop him. The movie won’t end if that doesn’t happen, I don’t think. I don’t know what will happen.”

Daisy groans. “Why can’t we just foil the plan? Why does it have to be them?”

“Because that’s how it goes!” Lincoln insists.

“Okay, but couldn’t they just be hanging out as friends? Because I’m pretty sure Jemma’s gay.”

Lincoln splutters, “What?”

“Dude, seriously? You haven’t figured that out? She’s super gay. I mean, she might not even know ‘cause they’re not exactly thrilled with that kind of thing in this time period, but I’m pretty sure she likes girls.”

“Why?”

“She’s not really into any of these guys at all,” Daisy says, “and plus, she’s kind of acting like every girl character in a movie who ends up with a dude at the end but it’s not at all convincing. You know why? ‘Cause they were gay.”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Cher Horowitz. She was like ‘I’m just picky’ - no dude, you just like girls, it’s okay. Or Ellen Page’s character from Whip It, or Olivia in She’s the Man. Or Bring It On. Or Miss Congeniality.” She stares at him. “I could go on.”

“Okay, okay, fine. Anyway. Even if she is gay, the movie’s written so that they fall in love and then they thwart the evil plan, and I don’t know how else to get home, so can we at least try it?” Lincoln pleads. “Anyway, if we don’t at least try, he’s just going to follow you around the whole time.”

“I mean, I’m not convinced he didn’t imprint on me like a baby duckling because he’s pretty gay too,” Daisy argues. “But... whatever gets us home, I guess.”

Chapter Text

Fitz has started composing another song for Daisy. It seems to be mostly about how he wants to be able to fall in love with a girl, one who can talk about “guy stuff” with him and who maybe likes leather, one who is “strong” and can protect him. Daisy listens to the whole song while trying very hard not to laugh. There are definitely girls like the ones he’s describing, and wanting a relationship with one wouldn’t be weird, but he also keeps casting longing looks over at a group of biker boys nearby. She, and probably girls in general, aren’t the actual target of his affections, she’s pretty sure.

“Yeah, yeah, sounds great,” she says once he’s finished and looking at her expectantly. “Um. Not sure I’m exactly the kind of... girl... you’re looking for, but thanks for the song.”

Conveniently, Jemma and Lincoln are nearby, but not so nearby that they’re directly involved in the quasi-conversation at hand, but not far enough that the general tune and sentiment haven’t wafted over. Jemma’s verses - just like Lincoln is used to - are about wanting to be in love with a boy who’s really in touch with his feelings, who’s very “soft and open” (a direct quote, one that Daisy overhears and raises an eyebrow at) and also supportive, clever, and pretty. (She literally says “pretty.” The fact that nobody made a fuss about that in the actual 1960s is wild.)

Lincoln blinks. “He sounds... nice?”

“That’s what I want!” Jemma says wistfully, and without her realizing it her gaze drifts toward Daisy. “Someone very nice.”

“Well, I hope you find him,” Lincoln says with an awkward little shrug. “I’m not very good at feelings. Ask my friend Daisy, she’ll tell you all about all the dumb stuff I’ve said to her when I was in a bad mood or something.”

“I bet you’re not as bad at them as you think,” Jemma says, definitely staring at Daisy now. “But I bet she has some funny stories, too. My brother says dumb stuff all the time.”

“No, I’m pretty bad at them,” Lincoln says with a laugh. “Maybe I should talk to your brother.”

“He doesn’t like surfers very much,” Jemma muses, “but you’re not really a surfer, you’re just an out-of-towner who surfs. I’m sure it would be fine.”

Lincoln nods. “Yeah. Do you guys hang out anywhere else besides Big Mama’s?”

“Oh, gosh,” Jemma says. “Well, I’m actually having a party at my house for the girls!”

“Cool,” Lincoln says, perking up. “Hey, you should invite Daisy to that. She’s great at parties.” Since, he knows, the party is where Jemma talks to the other girls about Fitz.

“Oh!” Jemma exclaims, perking up even more. (Her eyes literally sparkle for a second. It’s a whole thing.) “That sounds wonderful!” And without any warning she skip-runs in Daisy’s direction, beaming. “Hey, Daisy!”

Fitz is just telling Daisy “did you know your hair looks very soft?”, so she’s glad to have the excuse to talk to someone else. “Yeah?” she asks.

“I’m having a slumber party, and Lincoln suggested that I invite you, and I thought that was a brilliant idea,” Jemma babbles. “So do you want to come? I’d love if you did.”

“Oh did he?” Daisy asks, catching Lincoln’s eye just long enough to glare daggers at him for a second. “Yeah, sure, I’ll come to your slumber party. Except, um, I don’t have any pajamas? I mean I didn’t bring any with... me.”

“I’ve got extra pajamas!” Jemma chirps. “Lots of them. You can pick some out!”

“Oh! Cool.” Daisy casts an anxious look at Lincoln. “I guess, um, you can…” She trails off. “Go…”

“I’m having a few of the guys over tonight,” Fitz offers. “Lincoln, you can come too, if you’d like.”

Lincoln grins. “Sure.” He winks at Daisy, who makes a face at him.

Jemma’s bedroom is far too large and far too neat for one teenage girl to live in by herself. Daisy’s shared rooms with two other foster sisters at a time and they were smaller than this. The bed is huge, because all beds in movies are huge, there’s an actual dressing table, and there’s way, way too much floor space.

Probably for all of the dance numbers that none of these girls realize they’re probably about to break out doing.

At the moment, Bobbi is sitting in front of the mirror as Izzy curls her hair, and Piper is painting Lucky’s nails. Or, trying anyway. “It’s getting everywhere,” Lucky complains.

“Sorry,” Piper says sheepishly. “I don’t do this very often.”

“Why are you curling my hair if we’re going to bed soon?” Bobbi asks, glancing at Izzy in the mirror.

Izzy shrugs. “I just wanted to practice.”

“I guess I have the most hair to practice on,” Bobbi says doubtfully. After all, Piper and Lucky both have short-short hair and Izzy’s own is bobbed.

And Jemma? Well, Jemma is too busy pulling an endless amount of pajamas out of her impossibly large closet and throwing them at Daisy chipperly. “You can borrow whichever ones you like,” she says. “And if you want to go behind the dressing screen to try them on…”

Yes. There’s a forking dressing screen.

Daisy boggles. “Um. Okay. Thanks.”

“Of course!” Jemma says. “Do you have a favorite color?”

“I like... blue?” Daisy coughs. “Yeah. Blue’s nice.”

“Okay!” Jemma chirps. “Here are some blue ones!” And three pairs of blue pajamas, all short and very girly, come flying at Daisy.

Daisy struggles not to make a face. “Thanks,” she says, picking them up gingerly and heading behind the dressing screen. “Are we doing this like a fashion show?” she calls once she’s back there. “Am I supposed to try them all on one at a time and come out to show you guys?”

“Yeah!” Jemma says eagerly. “You’ll look so pretty in all of them, I don’t know how we’ll choose!”

Daisy can’t help but laugh. “Okay, sure.” She tugs on the first set, which has little white flowers all over it, and then steps out. “Here you go,” she says. “How do I look?”

“That’s pretty cute,” Piper says. “It matches your name.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess it does.” Daisy grins. “What do you think, Jemma?”

“I really, really like them,” Jemma gushes. “They’re so charming!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Daisy says as she ducks back behind the screen. Next, she grabs a darker blue pinstriped set. “These are way nicer than what I usually wear to sleep in,” she says, to nobody in particular. “I usually just throw on like, some boxers and an old T-shirt.”

“Boxers?” Bobbi asks. “Like, boy boxers?” She sounds confused and also a little bit envious.

“Yeah, I just buy a three-pack of cheap ones and wear them to bed. They’re comfy. Do you guys not…? I mean, probably not.” Daisy shows off the pinstriped pajamas.

“Oh, those are so nice, too,” Jemma exclaims. “I love how the blue looks against your skin.”

Daisy feels her face get hot with embarrassment and she quickly jumps back to try on the third set. “Thanks!” she yelps, hoping her voice is less squeaky than she thinks.

“You don’t do this very often, huh?” Bobbi calls.

“No,” Daisy says sheepishly. “I don’t, I mean... I don’t have a lot of friends back home who are girls. Not that I don’t like girls! I do! I mean…” She swallows. “I just didn’t know how to talk to them, I guess. I’ve always been more comfortable talking to dudes.”

Izzy calls, “I understand that! Me too. Present company excluded, of course. You guys are okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re okay too,” Bobbi scoffs, clearly playing.

“I don’t know how to talk to boys at all,” sighs Lucky. “How do you do it?”

“Uh,” says Daisy, shimmying into the last set of pajamas (this one bright blue with little bows on the sleeves, something she would never wear under any circumstances back home). “I dunno? You just like, ask them how they’re doing and stuff. Talk about what they like to do.”

“Well, of course,” Piper says, shrugging. “Boys love to talk about themselves.”

“Yeah, but you can’t let them just talk at you,” Daisy continues. “You can talk about yourself too. Try to find stuff you have in common, things you both like or do. Boys can be annoying but they’re really not that complicated.”

“How do you keep boys from just talking at you?” Bobbi asks skeptically. “It seems like once you let them get started they never shut up.”

Daisy laughs. “I dunno, you just... interrupt them if you have something to say? If a guy’s not gonna let you get a word in edgewise you probably shouldn’t be talking to him anyway.”

“No offense, Jem, I guess I can’t talk to your brother anymore,” Bobbi deadpans.

“Or most boys,” Izzy chimes in, smirking.

“Speaking of,” Piper chimes in, “how’s it going with your boyfriend? The surfer?”

Daisy blinks at her for a second. “My what now?”

“Lincoln,” Lucky explains. “That blonde boy you came with.”

“Oh! Oh, fork no, he’s not my boyfriend,” laughs Daisy. “We’re just friends. I mean, sometimes I think he wants to be my boyfriend, but that’s... not gonna work out.”

“Why not?” Bobbi asks. “Does he not let you get a word in edgewise?”

“No, no,” says Daisy. “He’s great. I mean, mostly. He gets a little sulky sometimes but I can handle that. I just... don’t think of him that way. He’s my friend.”

“What about Leo?” Jemma asks. “He seemed interested.” She sounds sort of wistful, but it’s not really clear what she’s wistful about.

Daisy shrugs. “He’s nice, but he was coming on a little strong. I like people who aren’t falling all over you, y’know?”

Jemma pouts, and it stands to reason that she’s just upset because she literally fell on someone in the recent past but it could definitely also be interpreted as her being self-conscious about being one of those people regarding Daisy (and that’s how Daisy is interpreting it). “I think that’s just how the boys here are,” she says sheepishly. “Maybe they’re different wherever you’re from? More… gentle?”

“Maybe.” Daisy shrugs again. “I also... I’m not sure Fitz likes people like... me.” She’s not sure how blunt she can be about the fact that Fitz is pretty clearly into boys, or that Jemma is pretty clearly into girls, but she decides to live a little dangerously.

“Well, who wouldn’t be interested in you?” Jemma asks. “You’re wonderful!”

Daisy laughs. “I mean, thanks? I just... I’m... different than the rest of you.”

“You don’t have to be,” Jemma says.

“It’s not that hard to pretend to be a way you’re not,” Bobbi adds.

That almost makes Daisy burst into giggles, but she manages to just cough a little instead and then says, “That’s true, but I don’t... care about boys that much.”

Jemma looks puzzled - possibly like she has never realized that was an acceptable option. “Huh,” she says. “But you’re so interesting and pretty. Maybe you just need to take a different approach?” To what, she doesn’t seem entirely sure.

But there sure is some music starting in the background.

Well then.

She had started to forget she was in a musical, but the girls line up perfectly and all start a song about how boys like girls “like them,” whatever the heck that means. Daisy blinks.

Then, to her horror, she’s singing too.

It’s all rebuttals to what the other girls are saying, insisting that girls can dress for themselves instead of boys, and ask boys out if they want rather than waiting around, and maybe for Pete’s sake girls could focus on something other than dumb boys for five seconds. At least it’s things she would actually be saying if they weren’t, well, singing instead.

The interesting thing is that a lot of it really does just seem like they’re, well, acting. Bobbi must movie-magically quick-change into four different outfits to showcase the different looks someone could take on to woo a boy, but it sort of seems like it’s more about making herself into different people than winning over different guys. Piper keeps rolling her eyes, although playfully enough that it could look to an untrained eye like someone who’s just messing around. Izzy looks like she’s just trying to get through the number and is thoroughly unconvincing. Lucky seems really focused on the choreography, less so on the singing or the boys themselves.

And Jemma? Well, she’s in the lead, but a lot of the time it sounds pretty hypothetical. Sometimes she refers to herself specifically, wearing certain things or saying certain things, but a lot of her lyrics just comprise a list of things that could be done if one in fact had the goal of making boys like them.

Finally, the song ends, and everyone flops down either onto Jemma’s bed or a chair. “Um,” Daisy says, unsure of what to say now, “so, yeah, you guys know that there’s more important things than guys and what they think of you, right?”

“Doing things with your friends?” Jemma suggests.

“Motorcycles?” Piper adds.

“Dancing?” Lucky says.

“Sure,” Daisy says, nodding. “Those are good things. Not that it’s not okay to be into guys, it is! It’s totally cool. It just shouldn’t be your whole... thing.”

“It’s not, though,” Jemma says. “I mean, I… I read, sometimes.”

“A lot,” Bobbi corrects. “It’s alright, I do too. And we have our bikes! That’s way more of our whole thing, I think.”

“Good, that’s good. I just know a lot of girls aren’t, y’know, taught that boys shouldn’t be their whole world.”

“We do get a lot of pressure to go with them,” Piper says doubtfully, sounding like she isn’t particularly thrilled with this.

Izzy nods. “It’s annoying. I’ve never gone with a boy.”

“It’s really not all it’s cracked up to be,” Daisy says with a laugh.

“What’s it like?” Jemma asks. “Going with someone.”

Daisy shrugs. “I’ve only done it a couple of times. My first boyfriend was only for the summer and... well, he was okay but kind of annoying? Like he wanted it to be more than it was. And my second, uh, boyfriend…” She’s not talking about a boy this time, but it’s easier than having to explain to all of them at once. “...our families didn’t like us seeing each other.”

Piper wrinkles her nose. “Was he a… well, you’re not really a biker or a surfer. Was he whatever the opposite of what you are is?”

Daisy laughs. “No, not exactly. They just... thought I was a bad influence.”

“That’s preposterous!” Jemma exclaims. “You’re a wonderful influence. I mean, look at you teaching us these things!”

“Aw, thanks. I mean... it’s hard to explain.” Daisy sighs and adds, “Anyway, I don’t mean to be a downer. What other stuff do you guys usually do at sleepovers?”

“I could paint your nails,” Lucky offers. “I’m better at it than... some people.” She grins at Piper.

“Hey, what’s the point if it’s just gonna chip off anyway?” Piper says, throwing a pillow in the general direction of Lucky’s head.

The surfer boys plus Lincoln are all over at Fitz’s house, playing Monopoly. This isn’t in the movie, so Lincoln honestly has no idea what will happen next, but he’s having too much fun to care.

Well, sort of. Monopoly is still really boring.

“Y’know,” Fitz says, overly casual, “I’m not sure all those bikers are that bad.” He buys a house for one of his properties.

Davy cants his head. “That’s coming out of nowhere,” he remarks.

Fitz turns pink and shrugs. “Dunno. I just... I think maybe we’re a bit harsh on them, that’s all.”

“They’re harsh on us too,” Sonny points out.

“Oh, c’mon,” Lincoln chimes in. “They can’t all be that bad. You talked to one of them, didn’t you, Fitz?”

Everyone in the group stares at Fitz, whose blush deepens. “I just,” he stammers, “I just think maybe it’s unfair. Sometimes they’re different when... when their friends aren’t there with them.”

“Who are you even talking about?” Davy asks.

“Nobody!” Fitz protests, his voice getting a little squeaky.

“What about that Jemma girl?” Lincoln asks, trying for innocent. “She seems nice.”

Trip grins. “Oh, I see. This is all about a girl, huh?”

Deke glares at Fitz. “Can’t you just date a surfer girl? Those biker girls are... weird.”

“All our girls are way nicer,” Sonny agrees. “And they’re less into leather.”

Fitz mumbles something under his breath.

“What was that?” Trip asks.

Fitz sighs. “I said... I said sometimes leather looks nice, that’s all.”

Lincoln reaches over to poke at him playfully. “It’s okay, you can like girls that are a little rough around the edges.”

“Yeah,” Fitz squeaks, squirming in discomfort. “Girls. Rough around the edges. That’s what I meant.”

“We could help you get one of those if you want,” Trip says. “I have a pretty good idea of what girls like.”

“How would you know?” Deke asks skeptically. “Who have you gone steady with?”

“People,” Trip replies. “Anyway, girls like it when you compliment them a lot. You gotta tell them they look good and how smart they are and stuff like that.”

“Probably helps if you mean it,” Sonny points out.

“Girls really like it when you show them how much smarter than them you are,” Deke says, kind of like he’s countering and kind of just like he’s saying it.

The others all give him funny looks. “Yeah, not really,” Lincoln says.

“Girls like it when you’re mysterious,” Davy says. “Don’t tell them too much about yourself. It makes them think about you more.”

“Really?” Deke asks. “Then how can you impress them?”

“You can impress them by knowing what they’re thinking,” Sonny chimes in. “Girls like it when you know what they’re thinking.”

Lincoln narrows his eyes. “I mean, kind of, but that’s a weird way of saying it.”

“How would you say it, then?” Sonny challenges.

That makes Lincoln pause. “Uh,” he says, floundering for an answer. “I’d say... girls like it when you think about their feelings?” He’s not always the best at this, but he’s trying. Daisy yelled at him enough times about it that it’s finally starting to sink in.

“But those are so confusing!” Deke whines.

Trip rolls his eyes. “It’s really not that hard. Girls are people too.”

“Really pretty ones,” Sonny says, smiling wistfully.

Shrugging, Lincoln replies, “I dunno. Daisy’s my best friend and I don’t even know what she’s feeling all the time.”

“I never know what anyone is feeling,” Fitz says, a little sulkily.

“Do you just ask them?” Deke presses. “People usually get annoyed if I ask them too many personal questions.”

“You can ask if a girl is feeling okay if she seems sad,” Lincoln says. “Or ask what’s wrong. But if she says nothing then change the subject. Girls don’t like it when you try to make them talk and they don’t want to. I show Daisy dog pictures when she gets too sad.”

“Where do you get dog pictures?” Fitz asks, looking confused. “Do you just carry a book of dog pictures around in case she gets sad suddenly?”

“It’s on my, uh…” Lincoln pauses. “Yeah. I carry some pictures around for her.” It’s close enough to the truth.

“You’re a really good friend,” Sonny says.

That makes Lincoln laugh. “Thanks.”

“Should I carry around dog pictures?” Deke asks. “Or should I carry around something else? Girls like gifts. I could give girls lemons!”

Everyone gives him weird looks. “Don’t do that,” Davy says. “That’s weird.”

The next morning, Daisy and Lincoln regroup after both parties. “So,” Daisy says while they’re waiting for a double order of pancakes at a diner. “How’d it go for you?”

Lincoln is pouting a little. “I didn’t get to join in the song about girls,” he says. “I was hoping I would.”

Daisy snorts. “Dude, you’re such a forking nerd.”

He makes a face at her. “What about you? What’d you do, braid each others’ hair and paint your nails?”

“We sang a song, actually,” she says, making a face. “It was really gay. And not like, in a bad way, just. I think most of them are gay? Or bi, or whatever. Not exclusively into boys.”

Lincoln boggles. “What?”

“You heard me.” Daisy shrugs and takes a sip of orange juice. “I already told you about Jemma, but I think all the other girls are at least a little into girls too.”

“But,” he yelps, “that’s not how the movie goes!”

“Yeah, well, odds are pretty good that not all of these actors were straight anyway. It was the sixties. Rock Hudson much?”

He sticks his tongue out. “Fine. Whatever. All of them?”

“Yeah. I’ve been to slumber parties before and that was some gay shirt. What about the boys? Did you guys just stand around comparing muscles all evening or whatever?”

“Wow,” Lincoln says. “You know absolutely nothing about guys, do you?”

“Nope,” she chirps.

“We mostly played Monopoly,” he admits. “And talked about girls.”

“Oh really.” She raises an eyebrow. “Fitz too?”

“Yeah. He said he likes leather?”

Daisy spits her orange juice across the table.