Freezepop

Nobody's home and I'm all alone with my whipped cream and poptarts. That's how enjoyable my life gets. This is why I have trouble spending time with my family when they're home, because I'm used to being by myself. Taking my whipped cream and poptarts -- I wasn't kidding about them -- up to my room, I turn on my computer and wait for it to boot up. As I'm trying to decide if spinning in my computer chair will make me too sick to eat, my phone goes off.

It's the bitch of living with nothing going on. Just the bitch of living, asking: What went wrong?

"Hullo?" I croon into my phone.

"Hullo to you. What are you doing right now?"

I swivel my chair back around to face my computer and log onto all of my messengers, checking each and every email I, for some reason, created. "I'm getting ready to indulge myself."

"Well, indulge yourself over here. Kat has a surprise for you."

"I don't want anymore strippers," I say, shaking my head even though Winifred can't see me.

"It's not a stripper. Just come over. You'll love her for forever if you do."

"Did she resurrect my turtle?"

"Tracy," she sighs, "you're just going to have to face that Ryan's probably dead, and he's not coming back."

"But I loved my Ryan."

"Well, maybe if you hurry over here, you'll have another Ryan." I squeal and hang up. Dashing to my closet, I rip a shirt off the hanger and jam it over my head. After changing into a pair of loose fitting jeans and dong all of the necessary to ensure my bodily hygiene is thoroughly up-to-date, I grab my bag and jump in my car. The ride to Kat's is short, and I'm almost disappointed because my song's not over yet. My attitude quickly changes though when I remember that Kat has a surprise for me in the form of 'another Ryan.'

"Kat! Kat!" I shout, bursting through her front door. "Where is it? I want it!"

"What'd Winnie tell you to get you so excited?" she asks as she walks in from the living room.

"She said you have a surprise for me. She mentioned Ryan." I hold out my arms, palms up, and hands grasping at air. "Gimme."

"Brendon!" Kat shouts, a smile appearing on her lips as she looks right at me.

He jogs into the hallway where we are. "Yeah? Hey, Tracy!" he says when he sees me.

I pout and point at Brendon. "That's my surprise? Winnie said 'Ryan' not 'Brendon.'" Right then, Brendon's friend walks over to us.

"Somebody say my name?"

"Where's Winnie?" I shout. "She lied to me!"

By now I'm feeling slightly emotionally unstable and completely childish. I don't care about the cute, witty guy in front of me anymore; I just want my damn turtle. Had I known that Winifred was hinting at Ryan Ross, I never would have come.

"Calm down, Tracy," Kat says as she steps forward to place a hand on my shoulder. I don't want to be touched, I don't want to be looked at, and I don't want to be talked to. I take a step back and shake my head.

"I'm going home." Without another word, I turn around and walk out Kat's front door. I mentally slap myself as I head to my car. I've never acted so stupid in my life, so why the hell did I just freak about a turtle? This is the part where someone's supposed to chase after me and make sure I'm okay. This is the part where I'm supposed to form an unbreakable bond with that someone, and we forever become inseparable. Too bad life never fits into a storybook.

What really happens is I sit in my car and pout for a while, debating how embarrassing it would be to just go back into Kat's house, since I'm already here, and enjoy the rest of my day with friends that I actually like. I shake my head, deciding that I can't face that kind of humiliation and put my key in the ignition when my phone rings. Seeing Mitchy's name on the caller ID convinces me that being extremely embarrassed is much better than talking to her.

Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I knock on Kat's door and wait for someone to come open it. It slowly opens, and there stands Winnie with a concerned, apologetic look on her face.

"I thought you would've understood the hint," she says quietly as she moves aside so I can come in.

"Can we just pretend it never happened?" I beg. "It was stupid and embarrassing." Winifred nods as a grin slowly forms. We walk into the living room where everyone's crowded around the coffee table playing Monopoly. "Who's winning?" I ask casually, sitting on the couch between Kat and Brendon.

"Spencer," Kat grumbles and rolls the die. Brendon gives me a look real quick before he turns his attention back to the game. I lean against the back of the couch, pulling my legs to my chest, and resting my head on my knees. I watch amusedly as Kat throws a string of cusses at having rolled her third set of doubles. "That calls for a redo!"

"Redo? You don't get a redo just because you're not happy with your roll!" Ryan argues.

"But I'm the best at Monopoly, there's no excuse for me to be losing to that!" She points at Spencer with a disgusted look on his face as he eats a handful of chips. He gives her a snide look back.

"That sounds like a personal problem, but you still don't get to re-roll." Ryan picks up Kat's piece and places it in jail before he grabs the die off the board and rolls.

As Brendon's picking up some of his Monopoly money that he dropped, my feet catch his eye, and he looks up at me. "What's on your toes?"

I shrug. "I have a thing for toe rings. I can't help it."

"Don't they hurt?"

"No." I shake my head. "I only get the little kid kind that's adjustable so as my toes grow, they don't cut off circulation." I wiggle my toes and adjust one that slipped to the side. All right, I may have more than just a thing for toe rings, but I can't help it if I think my toes are so extremely cute that I want to decorate them with pretty things. But it's at this moment that I realize I left my house without shoes.

When I start laughing, everybody stops and looks at me. I struggle to get the words out, but I'm laughing so hard I can't breathe anymore, and my eyes are watering up. I point at my feet, trying to get the message across, but no one understands. So I shake my head, hoping that they'll let it go, but only Winifred and Kat do. Ryan looks like he's scared of me, Spencer's hand is poised above his pocket where his phone is (I guess to call 9-1-1, should I need it) and Brendon's just kind of looking at me with a small smile on his face.

"It's your roll, Brendon," Winifred says, holding the die out for Brendon to take.

Never taking his eyes off me, he palms the die and rolls. By the time the die have stopped their dance, I've calmed down considerably and can now breathe like a normal person. Breaking eye contact, Brendon looks at the board and moves his piece the set amount then leans back into the couch.

"Who owns Park Place?" Winnie asks.

"I do," Brendon says calmly and watches as Kat performs her turn.

They finished the game in record time, about two turns later, because Ryan was bored, and Kat threw a hissy fit because she didn't have enough money to get herself out of jail. Somehow it was unanimously decided that I would be the one putting the game back in the box and putting the box back in the closet. Sure I did it, but not without a lot of grumbling and complaining.

Standing on my tippy toes, I can't quite fit the box on the designated shelf. I call for help as the other games slowly shift and start pushing a Trivial Pursuit box down at me. Seconds before it precariously topples onto my head, a hand reaches up and pushes the box back into its rightful position. Said hand also pushes the Monopoly box securely onto the shelf.

"Thanks," I say, turning around to come face-to-face with Brendon. "You and I never fail to be in close proximity to each other, have you noticed that?"

"Maybe there's a physical attraction we're not aware of." I raise my eyebrows in a questioning manner to which he just shrugs but continues to stand in front of me, blocking my way.

"Brendon, I kind of need to get past you." Now I'm starting to feel uncomfortable around him. Normally I'm the one to make things awkward because I either take things too far or because I'm just plain stupid, but he's quickly catching up with me. He moves to the side and lets me passed then follows my heels into the kitchen. And I mean he literally follows my heels because he steps on my foot about twice. The first time I know is an accident, but the second time really hurts, and I can tell he was trying to trip me.

"Do you mind not doing that?" I ask and whip around just so my face can slam into his chest. My nose hits his sternum, and it hurts, like hell. I don't know what it is about this guy, but every time I'm around him, I run into him and he hurts me. Tears spring to my eyes as I rub at my nose, trying to make the pain subside by just a little, at least.

"Are you all right?" He reaches to pull my hand away from my face so he can see my nose, but I jerk back.

"I'm fine," I snap. "Just stop stepping on my feet, okay?"

So he's cute, yeah, absolutely, completely adorable, but he's getting on my nerves faster than Mitchy does. Speaking of the devil herself, I hear my phone ring again in the living room. Avoiding the kitchen, where everyone else is, I take a detour through the dining room.

It's the bitch of living with nothing going on. Just the bitch of living, asking: What went wrong?

"Hi, Mitchy."

"Tracy! I called you earlier. Why didn't you pick up?" Because I'm cheating on you.

"Did you really? I never heard my phone ring." Lie.

"Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to spend the night tonight."

"Where's Dylan?"

"At the grocery store. I ran out of lemon juice for this cake I'm baking. So do you want to or not? I thought me, you, and Ella could hang out and have a night like we used to. We haven't hung out in a while."

"But won't Dylan be there?" Of course Dylan will be there, he's always there. I swear his lips are permanently suctioned to Mitchy's ass. Forever and always. True love, right?

"Yeah, but it's just Dylan. It's not like he hasn't hung out with us before."

"Good point. Let me call my mom and check real quick."

"Okay." She sounds so chipper. I guess she's been having a pretty good day, but then again, she normally does when Dylan slaves away for her.

Hanging up, I stick my phone in my pocket and walk to the kitchen.

"I heard your phone ring. Who was it?" Winifred asks as she licks the salt from the chips off her fingers.

"Mitchy. She wants to know if I want to spend the night tonight."

Kat walks around the island in the middle of kitchen and puts the jug of Hawaiian Punch back in the fridge. "What did you tell her?"

"What I always tell her: That I have to call and check with my mom." I look at the clock on the microwave. "It's been about two minutes. I should probably call her back." I take my phone out of my pocket and lean against the counter next to the stove. I hit the redial and her phone rings a couple of times before she picks up.

"Hello?"

"Dylan?"

"Yeah. Hey, Tracy."

I roll my eyes and pretend to blow my brains out with my fingers. Kat giggles, Winifred shakes her head, and Ryan, Spencer, and Brendon just look at me.

"Where's Mitchy?"

"Hang on." There's shuffling on the other end, and I can hear Dylan telling Mitchy that it's me.

"Lover!"

"Dumpling!" On the inside, I'm sighing and wondering why I still put up with her. Mitchy's not been the same for a long time. She wasn't really nice to start out with, but at least back then it took a while to find the meanness in her. Now it shines brighter than her damn teeth.

"Just a second," she says, and I hear the blender turn on.

When it stops, I ask, "What are you making now?"

"Icing. So can you come?"

I bite my lip and look at Kat and Winnie who are staring at me expectedly. "I can't." The words rush out of my mouth and relief washes over me. That is, until she asks why. "Because my mom said that I have to mow the lawn, and I'm not allowed to go anywhere until it's done."

"So do it real quick. It's only 5:30."

"Mitchy," I whine, "then I'll be all dirty and gross. Meaning that I'd have to take a shower, and that's too much effort." Kat giggles again, and Winifred slaps a hand over her mouth.

"Fine. You know what? Never mind." Without giving me a chance to respond, she hangs up. I growl, and slam my phone onto the island counter.

"God, she pisses me off!"

"Then why are you friends with her?" Brendon asks.

"Because she's too much of a softy to tell someone 'no.'"

"She's not a softy, Winnie, she's a pushover."

And Kat's right. I am a pushover. I'm a pushover through and through, and there's nothing you can do about it.