Your Melody Sounds As Sweet As the First Time It Was Sung

Over the next two weeks, Brendon and I became really good friends. We ate lunch together every day and sat together in all the classes we shared (history, english and science). Let me tell you, that kid is dangerous with a bunsen burner. I’ve already made a bet with Brent that if Brendon ever goes to jail, it will be for possession of illegal fireworks. Brent thinks it will be for indecent exposure, but I reckon I'll win that packet of oreos. Brent’s become my friend too. We’re not as close as Brendon and I are, but I still consider him a friend. He doesn’t know about my dad yet, and for some reason I don’t want him to. I don’t think he’d be as considerate as Brendon was about it, and I couldn’t stand answering question after question. He’ll probably find out sooner or later, but I’d rather it be later, if I can help it.

Brendon and I had been paired up for our history project on ‘myths and legends’. He wouldn’t stop with the jokes of how he’s secretly a Greek god, and I couldn’t stop my laughter, even though it was more lame and stupid than it was funny. Brendon was just that kind of person. The one that could make you laugh no matter what he said as long as he had the intention. Brent was kind of pissed off because he was paired with Larry Thompson. Larry Thompson was the annoying red-head kid who, I soon discovered, was hated by the majority of the school and decided that it was my fault or something. Why? I have no idea, but I didn't like him. He seemed to love all the attention he got, even though it was negative, and that just makes me dislike him even more. Brent was so pissed off that he was stuck working with him because he had to meet him outside school and he knew that Larry would be pushing him to get an A. I pitied poor Brent.

So Brendon was coming over to my place – I still can’t completely call it home yet – to work on the project. We were walking back from school, not talking, just enjoying the afternoon sun. It was the first time I’d brought anyone back to the house.

“I think I know someone who lives around here,” Brendon muttered as we turned into my street.

“You do,” I said. “Me, but I’m guessing you meant someone else.”

“Yeah,” he smiled. His smiles reminded me so much of my father’s. We turned into my house and I pushed the key into the lock and turned it.

“Mom!” I called, walking into the house. “I’ve brought a friend over!”

I heard the shuffling of footsteps before mom appeared at the kitchen door, smiling.

“Hello Ms Miller,” Brendon stuck his hand out politely.

“Mom, this is Brendon,” I introduced as she shook his hand. I tried to ignore the shining in her eyes showing her delightful surprise that my friend was a guy.

“Hi Brendon,” she smiled widely. “Please, call me Jo.”

“Okay,” he grinned at me. I think he liked making a good impression. Mom turned around and walked into the kitchen. We followed her and took seats at the kitchen counter.

“There’s some chocolate milk in the fridge,” Mom told us. Resuming sprinkling cheese on a vegetable lasagna.

“Yum,” I leapt off the stool and retrieved the chocolate milk. “Want some, Bren?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I grabbed two glasses and poured us both a generous amount.

“Brendon dear, do you want to stay for dinner?” Mom asked, sliding the food into the oven.

“I couldn’t intrude…” he started. I snorted. Was he trying to be a gentleman or something? Pfft. I knew him better than that.

“Nonsense,” Mom said, ignoring my unpleasant noise completely. “We’ve got plenty here, and if you’re Charlie’s friend then you are most definitely not intruding.”

I choked a bit on my milk. What? I found the word ‘intruding’ quite funny…

“Thanks Ms Miller,” Brendon smiled.

“I told you to call me Jo,” Mom fake-scolded.

“Okay then,” I interrupted before this could turn into one of those ‘No, I insist’ squabbles. “Brendon and I have an assignment to do, so we’ll be up in my room.”

I hopped off the stool and Brendon followed.

“Okay then,” Mom said, flipping through a cook book. “Oh, and how do you two feel about white chocolate cheesecake for dessert?”

I grabbed a bag of chocolate licorice bullets from the drawer before holding it between my teeth so I could give mom the thumbs up.

“Sounds good,” Brendon smiled. He was always smiling. It was infectious.

I held the banister as I slowly started walking up the stairs. I was not going to fall again. Brendon started laughing at me, but promptly stopped when I pegged the bag of licorice at his head.

“Wow,” he started. “White chocolate cheesecake. Do you get desserts like that every night?”

“More often now. Cooking keeps mom preoccupied, and she’s great at it.”

“Nice. I’m totally in love with your mom right now.”

“Yuk,” I laughed. “There is no way I am going to be your child, Urie.”

He looked at me a little shocked – probably because I could joke about something like that so easily – but when he realized it was all in good humour he let out a laugh too. When we reached the top of the stairs, I stole the bag back and opened it, popping a yummy piece of chocolate-covered licorice in my mouth. I swear, those things are my life. I held out the bag to offer him one, but before he could take any I snatched it away, laughing.

“Charlie!” he whined.

“Brendon!” I mimicked.

Thus began the fight for the bag of chocolate licorice bullets. We ran around upstairs chasing each other for possession, tackling each other just because we could. Five minutes later, I had the bag once again and was hugging it to me so Brendon couldn’t get it again when I eventually pushed open the door to my room. I hadn’t really gotten around to decorating it yet. Most of my posters were still in the drawer of my desk, only two adorning the otherwise plain cream walls. I flung myself into the corner of my room and sat on the floor, but Brendon seemed to have forgotten about our snacks. He was staring in awe at one of my posters on the wall.

“You know about My Chemical Romance?” he asked, surprised. I was shocked that he’d heard of them. They hadn’t gotten that big yet, had they?

“Hello, Jersey girl remember?”

His mouth kept opening and closing, looking from me to the poster.

“Y-you have Frank Iero’s autograph!?”

Wow. Someone knew Frank's name. They’d only just recorded their first album…

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “My dad was pretty good friends with his mom.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay,” I avoided his eyes, knowing that they’d hold only sympathy. “I went to the school they went to. The Iero’s would come over for dinner at our house occasionally. Even though he’s six years older than me, Frank would always be nice to me. I remember one time he came over, he helped me finish a song I was learning on guitar…”

“You were friends with him?”

“Not really. But whenever we saw each other we’d hang out. He never treated me like an insignificant kid, which I appreciated.”

“Did you ever meet the others?”

“No… What is this, an interrogation room?!”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “It’s just… wow.”

“The last time I saw him was at dad’s funeral,” I continued quietly. He gave me another sympathetic look. Yet again, it was starting to annoy me.

“Sympathy won’t help at all, you know,” I whispered.

“I know,” he replied I an equally quiet voice, looking intently at me. “But I don’t know how else to be.”

I broke our eye contact and looked at the floor. A few moments later, I felt Brendon’s arms wrap around my shoulders as he scooted over to sit next to me. I rested my head on his shoulder, and we remained like that for a few minutes in silence before I spoke again, turning my head to face him.

“Smile for me.”

“Why?”

“Just smile.”

“But I need something to smile for,” he argued.

“You’re smiling for me.”

Slowly, a grin spread itself across his face, reminding me of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. I grinned back, just as wide.

“You smile like dad did,” I told him. If it was possible, his smile grew.

And that’s how Brendon Urie became my best friend.