Freezepop

Waiting for someone to pick up their phone, when you were wary about calling them in the first place, is never a fun feeling. I'm pacing next to my bed as I wait for Brendon to pick up. Ella decided to have another Mario Cart Party party, and she's, magically, invited everyone.

"Hello?" a deep, gruff voice asks. I panic, and nothing comes out of my mouth. "Hello?"

"I, uh, is Brendon there?"

"Sure, just a second. Brendon!"

"Yeah?"

"Your phone. It's a girl."

"Oooh. Hello?" he says seductively into the phone.

"You're an idiot."

"Tracy!" he squeals. I have to hold the phone away from my ear just to hear again. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Um, you're welcome to decline, even though I hope you won't," I say quickly, "but Ella's having a Mario Cart Party party at her house tonight, and everybody's been invited."

"Everybody being who?" he asks, doubtful.

"Well, you guys and Kat and Winifred and myself and Mitchy and Dylan." I chew on my thumbnail. "You guys don't have to come, but it would be nice, and who knows? It'll probably be really fun. You guys could kick Ella's ass."

"Were those her words? 'Tracy, Brendon, Ryan and Spencer can come if they want'?"

"Not exactly, but it was the same idea."

"How'd she say it?"

"'Tracy, your friends can come if they want.' She doesn't really remember your names, although I'm sure she remembers yours now." I sit on the edge of my bed, picking at the sheets and tapping my foot. I chuckle nervously because I feel like I'm asking him out on a date.

"What time is it? And where does Ella live?"

"Um, 5:30, and I can show you better than I can tell you. Do you want to come by my house first and follow me over there?"

"How about I just pick you up? Then I can whisk you away whenever I want."

I bite my lip, trying oh-so-hard not to smile. He just has to be so cute all of the time, doesn't he? Falling back on my bed, I say, "Sure, that works too. Are you going to pick up Spence and Ryan?"

"We should ask them first, shouldn't we?"

"Oh. Yeah." I realize that I'm twirling my hair so I sit up quickly and cross my legs Indian style, leaning up against the headboard.

"All right, I'll call them real quick, and then call you back, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

The word 'giggly' just barely touches the surface of my euphoria at this very moment. It's honestly like I had asked Brendon Urie, lead singer of world famous Panic! at the Disco, out on a date, and he had just said 'yes.' Please, tell me you understand how much I just want to scream out at this very moment, how I want to jump on my bed and thrash around because the boy, nay, the man I liked had said 'yes'?

The flaw in my plan: It's not a date; we're hanging out at Ella's house, and only because she doesn't know enough people to constitute a party.

When Brendon calls me back, he tells me that he'll pick me up at five, but Spencer will have to come too because Ryan's going to pick up Kat and Winifred (but mostly Kat). We stay on the phone for a bit longer, laughing at how Kat and Ryan will probably be screwing by the end of the week (not literally, just figuratively. Kat's not a whore).

Let's jump ahead a little. It's currently 4:32, and I'm standing half naked in front of my closet, hands on my hips, and foot tapping incessantly as I try to find something comfortable and cute to wear. I want to look good, and noticeable, but not overly done because everybody else will know that I'm trying if I do.

Is strapless slutty? Of course not.. But maybe I better go with spaghetti strap. Then again, I don't have any cute spaghetti strap tops. Oh, dear God, I'm going to have a heart attack if I don't calm down! Boys make life impossible.

Ok, I'm going to close my eyes, and the first shirt my fingers land on, I'm wearing. When my hand retracts, I look at the shirt stuck on the hanger clutched in my fingers. Oh, lucky me, it's strapless one. I'd bought this shirt a couple of months ago, but I have yet to wear it. I guess tonight's the night.

After I've put it on and fully accessorized myself to the norm, I decide that this shirt is my new favorite. It's brown with white, light blue, and sage green apples printed all over it. It's also got a pouch pocket right in front, which is wonderful to me because I love putting my hands in those pockets. Skinny jeans and light blue flats (that I had no idea I had) on, and I'm ready to go. The best part: Brendon's not here yet because it's only 4:54. I sit down on my bed and shake my foot like it's having a seizure. I feel like I'm going to throw up from nerves. I'm such a psycho kid.

Just as I'm about to convince myself that I look like a harlot, the doorbell rings. My breathing stops, my heart skips, and my stomach fells like a mosh pit. Screw butterflies. With my hand poised on the doorknob, I become self-conscious and change my mind, ripping out the elastic holding my hair up. It snaps and makes my fingers sting. I open the door with a pained expression and holding my hand close.

"Whoa, what happened to you?" I look up to see Spencer standing in front of me.

"I broke my hair tie, and it hurt my hand." I grab my bag, slinging the strap over my shoulder, and lock the door behind me. As I follow Spencer to Brendon's car, I run my hands through my hair because it probably looks like shit since I styled it around the hair tie.

"Hello, fair lady." Brendon smiles at me as I climb into the front seat, and Spencer climbs into the back.

"Hiya." I smile back. and instantly, I'm at ease.

"So, where to?" he asks as he discreetly eyes me up and down.

I give directions in between idle chatter and foolhardiness. When we get to Ella's, it seems as though we're the last to show up. Mitchy's car's here, and you know that Dylan came with her. Andrew's car's here. Ryan's car's here, and we already know that Kat and Winifred came with him. I take a deep breath and unbuckle my seatbelt.

"Here we go," I say under my breath. Brendon and Spencer follow me to her front door that I just open, and walk inside. Immediately, we're greeted by her grandmother.

"Hello. And who are these fine young boys?"

"Hi." I smile genuinely; her grandmother's so nice. "These are my friends Brendon and Spencer."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you," she says, smiling sweetly. "Everybody else is already downstairs."

"Thank you. Let's go." I open the door and head down the stairs into what should be the basement but is actually just the lower level of the house. It's like the house was built as a vertical duplex, but Ella's whole family takes it up, and the levels aren't very separated. There are a full kitchen, a living room, a dining room, a full bathroom, and three bedrooms on each floor. Now, don't think Ella lives in this humungous house, because she doesn't, it's actually rather small.

We three walk past the kitchen area, which is covered in snack foods, and into the living room where everybody's piled. Ryan, Kat, and Winifred are sitting awkwardly on the couch, looking extremely out of place until we show up, while everyone else is on the floor, each with a controller in their hands.

"We're here!" I shout above the noise. Mitchy merely glances up, but when she sees Brendon and Spencer standing next to me, she takes her attention away from the game just long enough to be killed by Ella. After Mitchy's death, Ella puts the game on pause and looks up at us.

"Hey! There's food and stuff over there if you guys want some."

"Mmkay. We'll check it out. You guys want to come with?" I ask the three on the couch. Ryan nods enthusiastically and hops up quickly, but lets Kat and Winnie file past him before we all go back to the kitchen.

Taking a quick glance at everything set on the counter, there's one thing I notice: everything main dish worthy is not vegetarian friendly. I know that Ella knows Ryan and Winnie are vegetarians. I bite my lip and turn to them, ready to apologize, but they've already dug into the bag of Cheetos sitting on the counter. I laugh a little and grab a plate myself, piling it high with food that Kat and I have deemed worthy enough to fill our mouths.

When we all file back into the living room, taking over any sitting space that's not the floor, I can't help but notice a slight disappointed look on Ella's face. I can only assume that the lack of accommodating food was a subliminal message saying: 'I don't want you here. I'm only being polite, but I'd really just like you all to fuck off.'

Dylan very quickly gets tired of playing and offers his controller to someone else. Spencer jumps at it, and when Mitchy hands hers over as well, Ryan grabs it before anyone gets a breath in. When the players decide to team up, Ryan and Spencer against Ella and Andrew, I only pray that Spencer and Ryan kick ass at Mario Cart Party because Ella and Andrew pretty much do.

Dylan leans back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him, and Mitchy sits roughly on his legs. By the look on Dylan's face, it's obvious that this was not what he had in mind, but since he's whipped, he complies and maneuvers so that Mitchy gets comfortable. Would you believe me if I said that the whole time this is happening, she's watching Brendon and me as we discuss the finer points of the fun shaped Cheetos as opposed to the ever-plain 'sticks'? Well, you should because she is, and it doesn't take long for her to weasel her way into our conversation.

"What are you guys talking about?" She leans back quickly against Dylan and almost knocks him down. He sighs and scoots back against the wall, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Cheetos," Brendon says shortly.

"Cheetos are gross." She pulls a face then giggles.

"They happen to be my favorite snack."

"Ew!" She giggles again.

"I beg to differ," I say. "Even though Cheetos are amazingly delicious, you can only eat so much at a time before you become sick of the constant powdered-cheesy crunch."

"Tracy, when you put it like that, it makes them even more appealing," he argues back. "You should really advertise for them because you just made me want more." Brendon wiggles his eyebrows as he stands and heads back into the kitchen.

"Is that a new shirt?" Mitchy asks, pointing to my top.

"Not really. I got it like a month ago, but this is the first time I've worn it. I guess it's still new because I just took the tags off today." I shrug and take a sip of my Capri Sun.

"It's a little low cut for you, don't you think? Normally you wear clothes that cover every bit of you. And it's brown. Why would you wear brown?"

Brendon sits back down and offers me some of his Cheetos. I shake my head and excuse myself. Standing up, I walk to the bathroom, blinking fast and breathing slow and deep. I close the door softly behind me and lean against my hands rested on the counter.

I study myself in the mirror, as habit would have it. I actually thought I looked rather good but, does brown really look that bad on me? Is this shirt honestly too revealing? I really do look like a slut, don't I?

I wipe quickly at my cheeks and take a piece of toilet paper, dabbing it under my eyes to fix my eyeliner. 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.

"Why is this so familiar?" a voice chuckles. When I open my bleary eyes, I see Brendon standing in front of me with a small smile on his face. He takes my face in his hands and pulls my head away from the wall. "Are you okay?" he asks as his eyes search my face.

I start to nod my head but change my mind and shake it. A tear slips down my cheek, and I move to wipe it away, but Brendon's thumb already has. Of course, this doesn't make me feel better, and another tear slips out. He gently grabs my upper arm and ushers me into the bathroom where he shuts the door softly behind him and locks it.

"What's wrong?" he asks as I sit up on the counter. I shake my head again, not trusting myself to speak. His hands cup my face again and lift it to look at him. "Tracy?"

"Do I really look bad in brown?" I blurt out.

"What? No, you look amazing in brown. What brought this on?"

"Mitchy," I say reluctantly.

His face hardens. "What'd she say?"

"She said my shirt's too low cut for what I normally wear, and she asked me, 'Who wears brown?' I look cheap, don't I?" My voice cracks.

"Tracy," he sighs, "you look anything but cheap. When you walked out of your house, I swear it took me a second to remember how to breathe."

I close my eyes and concentrate on the feeling of Brendon's hands. "You're such a liar."

His hands move to my shoulders. "I would never lie to you." He squeezes my shoulders gently to prove his point. "Come here." He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close so my face is in the crook of his neck. I wrap my arms around his waist and take another deep breath.

"You smell like vanilla and cloves," I mumble out. He laughs and holds me tighter.