Freezepop

Amazingly, the rest of my week had been completely Ella and Mitchy free. Mitchy had to work almost everyday at her new job that she can't seem to shut up about, and Ella just got busy with life. Of course, this didn't upset me, it didn't upset Kat, and it didn't upset Winifred. Why would we be upset that two of the most horrible people were out of our lives, and our hair, for a week?

Okay, no. I take that back. They're my friends, and I love them... I like them... love them.

Right now, us three cats are sitting on, well, Kat's porch, watching all of the cars. There's nothing incredibly interesting until this huge ass SUV rolls down the street and turns into a driveway. Normally, this isn't incredibly interesting except that this particular SUV does not have obnoxious spinners for hubcaps, nor does it have a bass thump that you can hear from over a mile away.

Sitting up just enough to see, we watch as two guys very close to our age climb out and walk up to the house, knocking on the door. When they go inside we look at each other, exceedingly curious as to whom the fine young gentlemen could be.

"Who do you suppose they are?" I ask, leaning back in my chair.

"The welcome wagon?" Kat guesses.

"CIA," Winnie says confidently.

I blink. "Winnie, they're our age."

"Haven't you ever seen Agent Cody Banks? That kid was fifteen. Why can't they be CIA?"

"Because if they are, they wouldn't be dressed like absolute hotties. They'd be in suits and ties with shorter hair and sunglasses."

"Well, maybe they're on vacation," she reasons.

"Keep telling yourself that, Winifred." Kat pats her head, causing Winnie to stick out her tongue. "What do you think," Kat ponders as she twirls her Twizzler in the air, "would be the worst thing to happen at this moment?"

"A meteor could strike the earth and blow us all to pieces before we lose our virginities."

"Mitchy pulling into your driveway with Dylan in the front seat." Kat and I look at her driveway, and sure enough, that's exactly what's happening.

"Are you psychic now?" I ask.

"I suppose it's too late to duck inside. She's already seen us."

"We still can," Kat says. "We'll just lock the door after us and not let them in."

I shake my head, standing up. "I don't want to make Mitchy mad."

"You never want to make Mitchy mad," Kat points out.

"I know."

"Hey guys. Whatcha doin'?" I scrunch my nose as I see Dylan try to reach for Mitchy's hand, but she pulls it away and shoves it in her pocket.

"Hey, Jellybean. How ya been?"

"Good. Michelle says you were sick last week."

I nod, walking off the porch to stand in front of him. "I'm better now though. I just needed some sleep."

He nods in agreement. "What was wrong?"

"Just stressed out from the end of school."

Again, Dylan nods. That's all he seems to do is nod in agreement. I bet if I called him a pussy whipped bitch, he'd still nod his empty head. I think when Dylan was born that God messed up and forgot to put testosterone in him.

"I know the feeling. I freaked out about colleges for a good two weeks." Is that why you're in such a prestigious institution now?

"I'm hungry," Kat interrupts, ending the seemingly awkward small talk that always seems to arise between Dylan and me. "Can we go somewhere to eat?"

"I just got my paycheck yesterday, about $500, so I'm game for anywhere."

I shove my hands in my pockets and tip my head down. I have some money but not much. My little job only pays about thirty dollars a week, but with having to buy gas, I never have much left over. Somehow, Mitchy always has money, but she claims that she can't do anything because she can't pay for it. Then she has to tell us about how her grandmother took her on a shopping spree the other day and bought her almost $400 worth of new clothes. Me, I've been wearing the same t-shirts and jeans for three years now. I've had my Converse for almost four. Looking at her feet, I notice hers are new and squeaky clean.

"Let's go to Red Robin," Kat suggests, knowing full well that Mitchy hates that place.

"You know what, you guys go ahead. I should probably clean my room anyway." I pull a hand out of my pocket, keys in hand.

"Nah, come on." Kat nudges me with her shoulder. "I'll spot you a couple of dollars."

"Kat, you don't have money either."

"We'll manage." She shrugs and heads to my car.

"Are you coming, Winnie? I can drop you off at home if you don't want to."

She shakes her head. "No, I'll come. I'm too hungry not to." She grins and climbs in the back behind Kat.

"We'll ride with you," Mitchy says, grabbing Dylan's hand and walking to my car.

"Actually, you're parked behind me. So you might as well just drive yourself." This is true but mostly I just don't want her in my car. When I first got it, she was so pissed, and not because it was nicer either. When Ella got her car, Mitchy was mad because it was better than hers. Then when I got mine, she was mad again because mine was worse than hers. Mitchy always has to have the extreme of anything, but since my car's worse, she never fails to remind me of it.

"You know," she glares at me slightly, "I think I have get home and watch my little brothers, so we'll just grab something on our way. Tell the girls I'm sorry I couldn't go." Well, she's pissed. Fantastic.

I sigh and run a hand over my face. Looking to the sky, I mouth, 'Why me? What'd I ever do to you?' When Mitchy pulls out, and I'm not in danger of backing into her, I pull out and head in the opposite direction she had.

"Where are they going?" Kat asks.

"She has to watch her brothers."

"What'd you say?" Winifred asks knowingly.

"She said that her and Dylan were just going to ride with me, but I told her that since she was parked behind me that she should drive herself."

"Nice." Winnie and Kat smile, giving each other a high five.

"No. Not nice. Now she's mad at me."

"Why do you care?" Kat leans forward, fiddling with the radio until she finds a station she likes. "She's a bitch, and you're better off without her."

"Yeah, whatever." We arrive at Red Robin in silence, and when I climb out of the car, my foot somehow gets caught on the seat belt, and I trip. When I hit the hot pavement, I scratch the heels of my hands, grinding dirt and small pieces of rock into the cuts. "Shit!" I swear.

"Oh, my God! Are you okay?" Winifred asks rushing to my side and helping me sit up.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Thanks for your concern, Kat!"

"That was so funny!" she manages between giggles. "Do it again! Do it again!"

"If you don't stop, I'm going to leave you here," I pout.

"All right, I'll stop. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I brush off my jeans as I stand and slam my car door shut. "Let's just go eat." Stepping into the cool restaurant, I remember that I'd scrapped my hands when they start to hurt. "Hey guys, get me something to drink. I need to go wash my hands."

"Germaphobe," Kat calls after me.

"Whatever," I mumble.

I push open the bathroom door and lock it behind me. Just because I'm not using the facilities doesn't mean I don't want privacy. The soapy water stings the rough surface of my palms as I gently scrub away the ickyness of the parking lot. Satisfied with my hands, I look up at myself in the mirror as a force of habit. I look good today, and for that, I'm thankful. My outfit matches and looks totally cool, my hair's doing what it's supposed to, and my makeup doesn't look overdone.

Satisfied with my appearance -- for once -- I walk out of the bathroom and directly into someone. The force of the collision knocks me back into the wall, and I hit my head, hard.

"Today is just not my fucking day!" I mumble, on the brink of tears from pain.

"Shit! I'm sorry!" a boy's voice says. He grips me by the shoulders and asks, "Are you okay? I'm sorry. I had no idea anyone would be walking out."

"Well, what the hell do you think happens when there's a door in the wall? It's just there to look pretty?" Rubbing the back of my head, I look up to see who I ran into. "Hey, I know you."

"I, uh... I-you do?" he stutters.

"Well, not personally, but--"

"Shit. Look, I'm on a break, okay? Come to a concert sometime, and I'll give you an autograph, okay?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask, bewildered. I must have hit this guy harder than he hit me because he's clearly crazy. I just want to tell him that I saw him get out of an effing car, that's it.

"Can't you just give me a break? I want a little peace once in a while too."

"Hey! Don't talk to me like that, Mister Man!" I point my finger at him. "You just knocked me into a fucking wall. I'm the one that should be talking down to you. Not the other way around."

His face slowly breaks into a grin. "'Mister Man?' I've never been called that before."

"Well, I don't know your name. What else am I supposed to call you?"

"How about Brendon Urie? And listen, is there anything I can do to make up for..?" He motions the wall behind me.

"Shoving me into the wall?" He nods. "Yeah, buy me lunch Brendon Urie." The look on his face is the same feeling I'm feeling on the inside. Where I got the guts to be so forward with a cute stranger, I'll never know. I don't even have the balls to demand lunch from my friends.

He shrugs, but nods his head. "All right. What table are you sitting at?"

"Now that I don't know. As soon as we walked in I came to wash my hands." He raises his eyebrows, and I say quickly, "I fell in the parking lot." Of course, once he starts chuckling I wish I hadn't said that, and just left him thinking I'm a germaphobe like Kat called me.

"Well, wait here." Brendon holds his hands up and wiggles his fingers. "I have to wash my hands too."

As he goes into the men's bathroom, I lean against the wall and wait patiently. It's only awkward when an old lady gives me weird look as she goes into the women's bathroom. When she closes the door, I shuffle down a little bit so I'm not so close when it opens again. Thankfully, Brendon comes out before the old lady does.

"Now," he says, "who are you here with?"

"My friends Kat and Winifred."

"You have a friend named Kat?"

I shrug. "Yeah, so?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. It's just an interesting name."

"It's short for Katherine, but she hates her name."

As we weave through tables and waiters, Brendon asks, "So what's your name?"

"Tracy."

"Just Tracy?"

"Beatrice Dunkle, but everyone calls me Tracy because I'm cool like that." He nods as I find Kat and Winifred sitting in a corner booth near the back of the restaurant.

"Hey, guys," I say as I sit down. They give me a look as if asking who Brendon is. I shrug and turn to him.

"How about my friends and I just join you? That way I don't forget to pick up your tab."

"Deal," I say.

"Cool. So just give me like, two minutes to convince them to move their asses over here. They're just at table right there," he points to two boys with hair just as shaggy as his and wearing clothes just as tight as his, "so you can watch me to make sure I don't disappear."

When he leaves, Kat practically leaps over the table to grab my shirt and pull my face close to hers. "Who the hell is the hottie, and how did you meet him?"

"His name's Brendon, and I literally ran into him when I was leaving the bathroom. He knocked me into the wall."

"That is so romantic!" Winifred croons.

"Winnie, it hurt. I think I'm gonna have a permanent bump on the back of my head now." As soon as the words leave my mouth, Brendon shows back up with his friends in tow. He takes the empty seat next to me, and the other two pull over a single table to connect it with our booth. The really tall, skinny one sits by Kat, and the shorter one sits on the other side of Brendon.

"Tracy, these are my friends Ryan," he points to the guy beside Kat, "and Spencer." He points to the guy next to him.

"Nice to meet you." I give them a little wave, which Ryan returns, but Spencer just replies with a small 'hey'. "These are my friends Winifred and Kat."

"So, you pushed Tracy into the wall, huh?" Kat asks. My cheeks flush, and I bury my head in my arms. It's obvious that with three cute boys, Kat's going to embarrass me as much as she can because she loves me that much.