The Calendar

Brendon leafed through the notebook, waiting for Ryan to get out of the bathroom. For once, they were at Spencer's house, and Jon was making sandwiches with Ashly. They hadn't exactly told Ry they were going to the beach yet.

He squinted to read a spot where Ryan's handwriting had gotten sloppy when he heard a little gasp. "Brendon!"

"Hey, R-"

"What the fuck?!"

Brendon jumped away from Ry's hands, reaching for the battered notebook. "What?"

"Where did you find that?!"

"You're a good writer."

"Give it back!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" By this point, they had danced into the kitchen, the other three watching curiously.

"No! Give it back!" Ry looked like he was about to cry.

"Oh, well imagine," he began to sing softly, still dodging Ryan. "As I'm pacing the pews in a church corridor and I can't help but to hear, no I can't help but to hear an exchanging of words. What a beautiful wedding, what a beautiful wedding,says a bridesmaid to a waiter. Yes, but what a shame, what a shame the poor groom's bride is a-" Brendon's old religious instincts caused him to stutter. "A whore." He stopped singing. "Ouch. Where'd inspiration for this come from?"

"Bad break-up," Ryan muttered, now clutching the notebook to his chest. Then he eyed the large picnic basket. "What's that for?"

"Beach day!" Jon yelled, beaming.

"But-"

"No buts! But lots of butts!"

"You're so weird."

"BUT you love me. And my butt."

Spencer sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going," Ryan stated, beginning to back out of the kitchen.

"What?!"

"C'mon, Ryro!"

"Laaaammme!"

"It's the beach!"

Ashly looked thoughtful for a moment. Then she turned to Brendon. “I’ve never heard you sing before. Thought you only played the piano."