Date: June 17, 1990 (Sunday).
Location: NorthPark Center, Dallas.
Event: The "Kids Only" Expedition.
Part 1: The Escape
Sunday Brunch at the Highland Park Country Club is a bloodsport. It involves mimosas, gossip, and social maneuvering that would make Machiavelli blush.
Naturally, we wanted no part of it.
While George Sr. and Jack Geller went golfing, and Mary and Judy went to the club to "see and be seen," the rest of us were granted a rare reprieve: four hours of unsupervised freedom.
"Here is the cash," George Sr. had said, slipping me a wad of twenties before he left. "Feed them. Don't lose Sheldon. And for the love of God, don't let Ross get arrested for protesting anything."
"Got it, Dad."
At 11:00 AM, we rolled out.
It required a convoy. I drove my truck with Serena and Eric. Larry Allen drove his beat-up sedan with Zach and Jimmy. And—because God has a sense of humor—I had to let Ross drive the family station wagon with Monica, Missy, and Sheldon.
"I'm a very safe driver," Ross had insisted, putting on leather driving gloves. "I understand the physics of friction."
"Just follow the truck, Ross," I sighed. "And don't use big words with the traffic. It confuses people."
Our destination: NorthPark Center.
In 1990, malls were the center of the universe. And NorthPark wasn't just a mall; it was a temple of consumerism. White brick, polished concrete, modern art sculptures, and air conditioning cold enough to preserve a mammoth.
We parked. We assembled in the parking lot like an invading army.
Me. Serena. Eric.
The Recruits (Larry, Zach, Jimmy).
The Gellers (Ross, Monica).
The Coopers (Sheldon, Missy).
Ten of us.
"Okay, listen up," I said, channeling my inner coach. "Rules of engagement. We meet at the Food Court at 2:00 PM. Do not leave the building. Do not talk to strangers unless they are selling food. And Larry?"
"Yeah, Coach?" Larry asked, adjusting his sunglasses.
"If anyone messes with Sheldon, you have permission to sit on them."
"Copy that," Larry grinned.
"Break!"
Part 2: The Celebrity and The Nobody
We walked into the mall through the Neiman Marcus entrance because Serena refused to enter through Sears.
The air hit us—that specific mix of perfume, pretzel salt, and ozone.
Ross immediately adjusted his blazer. He was wearing a blazer to the mall. In June.
"I intend to visit the bookstore," Ross announced loudly. "I need to check if they have the latest issue of Scientific American. Not that I expect the laypeople of Dallas to stock it."
"Cool," I said. "Have fun."
We hadn't walked fifty feet before it started.
"Oh my god," a voice squealed. "Is that him?"
A group of three teenage girls, probably sophomores, were huddled near a fountain. They were looking right at us.
Ross straightened his tie. He ran a hand through his gelled hair. He assumed, naturally, that the college man from New York had caught their eye.
"Hello, ladies," Ross began, putting on a suave smile. "I assume you noticed the—"
"Georgie! Georgie Cooper!"
The girls shoved past Ross like he was a potted plant. They swarmed me.
"Oh my god, you're the Quarterback!" one girl said, snapping her gum. "We saw the State Championship! You were amazing!"
"Can you sign my notebook?" another asked.
"Is it true you're dating Serena van der Woodsen?" the third asked, looking at Serena with jealousy.
The group went quiet.
Serena didn't answer immediately. She looked at me, an amused eyebrow raised.
We hadn't actually defined anything. In front of Judy Geller back at the house, she played the role to help my mom win a social battle. But here? In the wild?
She waited. She was letting me make the call.
I looked at the girl. I looked at Serena, who was smirking, challenging me.
I took the pen.
"Yeah," I said, loud enough for the group to hear. "It's true. Sorry, ladies. I'm off the market."
Serena's smile changed. It wasn't the fake "socialite" smile. It was real.
She looped her arm through mine, squeezing my bicep tight.
"You heard him," Serena said, looking at the girls. "He signs autographs, but he holds my hand."
I signed the notebooks. "Stay in school, go Scots."
Ross watched this from three feet away. His mouth was open.
He looked at the girls fawning over me. He looked at Serena holding my arm.
He couldn't process it. In his world, Jocks were the villains who pumped gas. In Texas, Jocks were gods.
"He... he just claimed a mate," Ross muttered to Eric. "In public. Without a courtship ritual?"
"That was the ritual, man," Eric laughed, clapping Ross on the back. "He just planted the flag. You're in his kingdom now. Just go with the flow."
"I have a degree!" Ross squeaked. "I am researching the Mesozoic Era!"
"Does the T-Rex play football?" Jimmy Smith asked genuinely.
"No!" Ross yelled. "It's extinct!"
"Shame," Jimmy said. "Ideally, you want a T-Rex at Defensive End. Long reach."
Ross made a noise like a dying kettle and marched off toward the bookstore.
Part 3: The Bodyguards
While Ross went to sulk among the books, Missy had her own mission.
She had spotted The Arcade.
The Tilt Arcade at NorthPark was a cacophony of beeps, flashing lights, and hormonal teenagers.
"I want to play Skee-Ball," Missy declared.
"I'll go with you," Monica said. "I love Skee-Ball. I'm strangely good at it."
"I will accompany you," Sheldon said. "I wish to analyze the hit-box mechanics of Street Fighter."
"I'm coming too," Larry said. "They have hot dogs."
So, the B-Team (Missy, Monica, Sheldon, Larry, Zach) headed for the flashing lights.
Inside the arcade, it was crowded. A group of older boys—Highland Park juniors, wearing letterman jackets from the JV team—were hogging the Skee-Ball lanes.
One of them, a kid named Brad, saw Missy. Brad had been a jerk to Missy in the 4th grade. He had pulled her pigtails and called her 'Messy Missy.'
"Well, look who it is," Brad sneered, leaning against the machine. "Little Cooper. Here to lose?"
Missy stopped. She looked at Brad.
In the old timeline, she might have made a snappy comeback and run away.
But Missy Cooper had changed. She had learned a thing or two from her brother about leverage.
"I want to play, Brad," Missy said calmly. "Move."
"Make me," Brad laughed. His friends laughed. "Go play with dolls, Missy."
Missy didn't yell. She didn't cry.
She simply turned around and whistled.
"Larry! Zach!"
From the back of the arcade, the crowd parted.
Larry Allen (6'3", 325 lbs) and Zach Thomas (5'11", 230 lbs of muscle) walked over. They were holding hot dogs. They looked like mountains wearing t-shirts.
"What's up, Little Bit?" Larry asked, chewing.
"This boy won't let me play," Missy said, pointing a finger at Brad. "He says I should play with dolls."
Larry stopped chewing. He looked at Brad.
Brad looked at Larry. He looked at the size of Larry's arms, which were thicker than Brad's legs.
Brad turned pale. The blood drained from his face so fast he looked like a ghost.
"Is there a problem?" Zach Thomas asked, stepping up on the other side. "Do we need to call Georgie?"
"N-no," Brad stammered. "No problem. I was just... leaving."
"Good," Larry rumbled. "Because this lane is reserved for the lady."
Brad and his friends scrambled away, tripping over themselves to get out of the arcade.
Missy smiled. She walked up to the Skee-Ball machine.
She looked at Larry.
"You're my favorite," she said.
"I know," Larry grinned. "Now win me some tickets. I want the giant eraser."
Part 4: The Nerd Sanctuary
I eventually found Ross in the bookstore.
He was in the Science section, naturally. But he wasn't reading. He was aggressively rearranging the shelves.
"They have Astronomy mixed with Astrology!" Ross complained as I walked up. "It is a desecration of the Dewey Decimal System!"
"Ross, stop working," I said. "You're on vacation."
"I cannot relax in the face of ignorance, Georgie," Ross huffed.
Just then, Sheldon walked in. He had abandoned the arcade because "the hygiene levels were suboptimal."
Sheldon saw Ross rearranging the books.
Sheldon's eyes lit up.
"Finally," Sheldon said. "Someone with standards."
Ross looked at Sheldon. "You... you agree this is wrong?"
"It is barbaric," Sheldon declared, pointing at a shelf. "They have placed A Brief History of Time next to a book about crystals. Hawking would be spinning in his wheelchair."
Ross looked at Sheldon with a newfound respect.
"Exactly!" Ross said. "I tried to tell the clerk, but he just asked if I was going to buy anything."
"The clerk is a philistine," Sheldon agreed. "Come, Ross. Let us organize the History section chronologically rather than alphabetically. It is the only logical way."
"Chronologically," Ross breathed. "Yes. Yes, that makes sense."
For the first time all weekend, Ross and Sheldon didn't fight. They bonded over their shared love of imposing order on a chaotic world.
I watched them start pulling books off the shelves.
"Should we stop them?" Eric asked, walking up with a stack of X-Men comics.
"No," I said. "They're happy. And if security comes, we'll pretend we don't know them."
Part 5: The Throne Room
By 2:00 PM, we gathered at the Food Court.
It was the center of the mall ecosystem. The smell of Sbarro pizza, Orange Julius, and Wok & Roll mixed together.
We pushed four tables together. It was a feast.
Monica and Larry were sharing a pepperoni pizza (Larry was still complimenting her on her dough technique, saying Sbarro was "trash" compared to hers).
Missy was counting a massive pile of arcade tickets.
Sheldon and Ross were debating the historical accuracy of Indiana Jones.
I sat back with Serena. We had a moment of quiet in the chaos.
"Look at them," Serena said, sipping a Diet Coke. "It's a circus."
"It's my circus," I said.
I looked at the group.
A year ago, I was a tire salesman in a dead-end life.
Now?
I had the smartest kid in the world, the strongest lineman in Texas, the future chef of Manhattan, and a dinosaur nerd all sitting at one table. And they were laughing.
"You're good at this," Serena said.
"Good at what?"
"Collecting strays," she said. "You make people feel like they belong. Even Ross. Look at him. He's actually smiling."
I looked. Ross was indeed smiling, explaining the carbon dating of the Shroud of Turin to Sheldon.
"Everyone needs a team," I said. "Even the annoying ones."
"Especially the annoying ones," Serena corrected. She leaned her head on my shoulder. "You know, my mom called from Paris."
"Yeah?"
"She asked if I wanted to spend the summer in France," Serena said. "Vineyards, shopping, boys with accents."
My stomach tightened. "What did you say?"
"I told her no," Serena said. "I told her I had better plans in Texas."
She looked at me. Her eyes were blue and clear.
"I told her I didn't want to leave my team."
I took her hand under the table.
"Good choice," I said. "France is overrated. They don't have brisket."
"Or you," she whispered.
We sat there for a moment, just two kids in a mall food court, surrounded by noise and grease and friends.
It felt perfect.
And then, Zach Thomas stood up.
"Hey guys," Zach said, pointing at the entrance. "Is that... a clown?"
We looked.
It was indeed a clown. A promotional clown for a toy store.
But Sheldon didn't see a promotional worker. Sheldon saw a nightmare.
"CLOWN!" Sheldon screamed, scrambling backward over the table, knocking over his soda. "RED ALERT! EVASIVE MANEUVERS!"
"Sheldon, it's just a guy in makeup," I yelled.
"IT IS A DEMON!" Sheldon shrieked, bolting toward the exit.
"Larry!" I shouted. "Secure the Asset!"
"On it!" Larry dropped his pizza and sprinted after Sheldon.
I sighed. The peace was over.
"Okay," I said, standing up. "Pack it up. Operation Mall Rat is over."
Serena laughed. "Never a dull moment."
"Nope," I said, grabbing my keys. "Let's go save the clown from Larry."
[Quest Update: The Mall Rat Pack]
* Team Morale: Maximum.
* Missy: Revenge on Bully (Complete).
* Sheldon & Ross: "Order & Chaos" Bond Formed.
* Serena: Loyalty Confirmed (Rejected Paris).
* Relationship Status: Off the Market.
* Larry: Ate 4 Slices of Sbarro (Still prefers Monica's).
***
**AUTHOR'S NOTE**
**If you are enjoying the story, please drop a Power Stone!**
I am trying to break into the Top 15 Rankings this week, and every stone helps the Coopers take over Texas!