Freezepop

"Okay, so, what's your favorite color ,and why?" I ask Brendon as we sit on a blanket, staring out at the vast expanse of a nothing desert.

"How could you pick a favorite? Color is color. As long as it's there, I'm happy."

"You're completely defeating the purpose of the 20 Questions game, Brendon."

"Why don't you answer first? Give me time to think about it."

I sigh, exasperated but answer anyway. "I'm obsessed with the color purple. Probably because people hate it so much that it's hard to really find it anywhere."

"I like the color purple."

"But is it your favorite?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I can't like it."

"I would just like to point out that you're completely avoiding the question, and it's only about your favorite color."

"You know what, I think I'm ready for another sandwich. What about you?" Brendon grins as he stands up and walks back to the car.

"Brendon!" I groan and throw my arms over my eyes, falling back on the blanket.

"What?" I can hear the smile in his voice even though it's muffled by half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich stuffed in his mouth.

"You're impossible!"

"But you love me." His voice is right next to me, and it scares me. When I look, he's holding out a sandwich to me with the big grin still on his face.

"You wish." I swipe the sandwich from his hand.

"Oh, please. How could you not love this face?"

"Only a mother could love a face like that." I take a big bite and give him a cheeky smile.

Brendon drops his half-eaten sandwich in his lap and covers his face with his hands. His shoulders shake as he makes the most annoying 'boo-hoo' sound I've ever heard. I roll my eyes and scoot next to him. I wrap an arm around his shoulders and pat his head in mock sympathy.

"You don't love me!" he cries.

"All right, all right. I take it back. Your face is the cutest thing on this earth."

His head shoots up, and his face is literally glowing, I swear. "You love me!" he shouts and tackles me in a hug. "You love me, you love me!" He keeps shouting it as we roll on the ground. I can't stop laughing, and it takes all my energy to push him off. Laying next to me, he leans up a bit so that he's leaning over me and says slowly, "You. Love. Me."

"Oh, shut up or I'll take that back too. What time is it?"

"Uh.." He scrunches his face as he thinks. "I think it was like, 4:20 when I went to the car."

The text message from my mom was her saying that she was getting off work early so she'd go pick up Humperdinck from the vet. Brendon decided that, on that note, we were going to stay out longer, and we were going to need more food so we drove back into town and bought more supplies for PB&J sandwiches. Now we're just kind of hanging out, waiting for the sun to set before we head back home.

"So, in other words, it's probably still 4:20."

"You're so smug."

"Oh, I know." I laugh, but his face grows serious. With him that close, it's easy to see every little feature of his face. It's so smooth, except for his stubble of a beard, and he has no lines on his face, neither from age nor from laughing, which he seems to do all the time. His eyes are actually a pretty shade of brown; they remind me of caramelized sugar.

"So, what was that? Earlier today with Ella. Does she always call you on such short notice? And for such stupid reasons?"

"No." I reach up and slowly pull his glasses off his face and put them on. I squint to see him clearly through the lenses. "Normally she calls me a day ahead because she wants to go to Rew's baseball games. Or because it's his birthday or her sister's birthday or her brother's. When school was still in, she'd ask if I'd go in because she would have two or three tests to study for plus some club to go to."

I take off his glasses, and my eyes stop hurting. He shakes his head as he says, "She relies on you too much. You guys are supposed to be friends, and she uses you."

I carefully push his glasses back on his face and ruffle his hair. "She doesn't use me. She just doesn't know how to treat people; she screams at her mom all the time, and her mom takes it. If your parents don't show you how to act, then how are you supposed to know?"

"Why are you sticking up for her?"

"Because she's one of my best friends, and I've known her for such a long time."

He sighs and lays his forehead on my shoulder. "But you have better friends now: Kat and Winnie, and me and Ryan and Spencer and Jon. You don't need people like Mitchy and Ella anymore."

Ok, so, anybody else notice just how close Brendon and I are at this moment? Because I sure as hell do. My stomach won't calm down, and it's making me almost too nervous to talk, except that he's very obviously trying to push me to break it off with the two people who've always been there for me.

"Brendon, I can't just throw away seven, almost eight, years of friendship. There's so much of them molded in me that I can't let them go so easily."

"Tracy," he groans and lifts his head to look at me, "they treat you like shit. That's no reason to hang on to them. Yeah, so you've been friends with them for a long time, but sometimes you have to let people go and move on."

Now's the point where, no matter what he does to me, I can't take him being so close anymore. I push him away and sit up. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I rest my elbows on them and look out at the nothingness.

"Don't you talk to me about having to let people go," I snap. My chest constricts, and I have to bite back tears. If only Brendon knew, if only he knew just how much I understood what it feels like to have to let someone go. If only he knew how much it hurts me every time I think about it and every time I think about doing the same to Mitchy and Ella.

"Tracy," he breathes from behind me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and tries to get me to turn around. "Listen, I'm sorry okay? I'll drop it. It's your life, and I don't know anything about it."

"You know, we used to be inseparable. I think someone even mistook us for being sisters once." I chuckle a little and wipe at my cheeks.

"Who?" I feel Brendon's body as he moves next to me. I feel his eyes searching my face as he stays quiet and waits for me to continue.

"Her name was Ashley, but everybody always called her 'Ash'. I always thought she was the coolest person, and the fact that she was my best friend just always made me glow with pride because she was my best friend." I wipe my eyes again and turn to look at Brendon. "Don't think I don't know what's it like to tell someone that you can't be friends with them anymore because where they're going, you can't follow; that they're no good for you anymore, and you need to be around people who won't put you down all the time."

"I... what happened?"

"My mom really didn't like her. She would always look for an excuse to keep me from spending the night at her house because she said that Ashley was mean. I didn't think so. Why would you ever think your best friend was mean?" I bite my lip and look around, blinking fast. "I remember one time, in fourth grade, I told her to guess what I wanted to be when I grew up. She didn't get it right, and I don't remember what she said, but I remember that I told her that I wanted to own a farm somewhere out in the country. And you know what she said to me?"

Brendon shakes his head. "No."

"She asked me if I was going to have pigs because we were so much alike." I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"Tracy," he says gently.

"And you know, I never thought about it. I just laughed with her, and for some reason I never noticed her comments. It's weird what you block out to keep people close. I remember, a year after I broke it off with her, I remember thinking 'God, wow. Now I know what those women on Lifetime are talking about when they say an 'abusive relationship'.' Of course, calling me fat all the time was just the tip of the iceberg. Her mom moved her one town over before we went into sixth grade, but that never kept us from each other. And, of course, with new towns comes new friends, and with new friends comes new things."

"You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

"No," I shake my head. "I wanna get it out there. Only my mom knows, and I'm tired of keeping it inside because I hate it. I hate what she did to me, I hate how she affected me. And you got me started, so let me finish. Anyway, these new friends introduced her into the wonderful world of pot and crack. Great combination, huh?" I laugh bitterly. "One time, when I was spending the night, after everyone was asleep, Ashley went to the cupboard and grabbed a tea bag. Bringing it back to her room, I had no idea what she was doing, when she lit it on fire. Then she held it out to me and said, 'Smell it. It smells just like marijuana.' Isn't that a great thing for eleven-year-olds to know?" I turn back to Brendon. "Still think Ella and Mitchy are terrible people?"

Brendon doesn't say anything, just opens and closes his mouth several times, shaking his head. "I--I never would have known," he says after a while.

"Why would you? It's not exactly something to proclaim to the world."

"Why haven't you told anyone else?"

"Because, even though she never really knew Ashley, Ella's not exactly Ms. Clean herself; Mitchy still likes her and probably wouldn't mind trying a few of the same things, but they've never pushed it on me; and Kat and Winifred don't even know who she is."

Brendon's arms slowly slide around my waist and pull me close to him. One hand rubs my back while the other rests behind my head, holding it to his chest. "I feel like I should say 'sorry,' but you seem like one of those people who would just ask me why since I didn't do anything."

"You know why people ask that?" I feel him shake his head. "It's because, if you didn't do anything, than saying 'sorry' means you're giving pity, and only the twisted want pity."

"Fine. I won't give you my pity, but I will give you my sympathy."

I pull away and roll my eyes, trying to hold back a very small smile. "They're the same thing, Brendon."

"No, they're not." I raise my eyebrows and purse my lips. "Okay, so maybe they are. I was hoping I could throw you for a loop. Can you blame me for trying?"

"Yes, yes I can."

"Well, fine then." He feigns hurt. "Come on, let's head back." He stands and offers a hand down to me.

"But the sun hasn't set yet."

"Do you really want to stay here for that long?"

"Oh, heck no. It's creepy out here." I take his hand, and he pulls me up.

"Pfft, I'd protect you. I'm a man!"

"Please. When I hear the world 'macho,' your name is the last to come to mind. Sorry, buddy." I pat his shoulder and walk past him to the car, leaving him to pick everything up. I climb in and buckle my seatbelt as he picks everything up quickly and ungracefully shoves in it the backseat.

"I am incredibly manly!" he screeches, much like a hysterical woman, once he sits in the driver's seat.

"Oh, and that just proves it right there."

"Oh, shut up! I take you out for a beautiful day, I feed you! And this is the thanks I get? You ungrateful, little hoe."

"Hey! I keep my pants on, thankyouverymuch!"

Brendon eyes me up and down as he starts the car. "Oh, please, chica, like you don't constantly have guys fawning over you?"

"No, actually, I don't."

"Seriously?" he asks incredulously. I nod. "Huh." He backs up and pulls onto the main road. The ride back to town is silent except for the radio, Brendon occasionally singing along, and his fingers constantly drumming on the steering wheel.