Jinxed Things Ringing

It wasn't a man hug.

Oh no.

It was a full on arm wrapping, chest pressed, life squeezing-

heart-felt, emotional, depression hug,

that I had ever seen.

Spencer was bawling his eyes out, while Brendon (who shed a few lone tears) squeezed his eyes shut trying to remain calm.

"Bren. Please, just stay here with me. You don't have to go. Don't go," Spencer pleaded. I sighed and watched Ben look frightened.

Poor guy had to witness his father beg his long-lost friend not to leave him. How would anyone handle that.

"We'll visit Ryan. We can all get together! We'll make it work," Spencer cried his worn eyes out.

Brendon sighed heavily before pulling out of Spencer's tight embrace. He planted a solid kiss on his best friend's forehead before walking to me and grabbing my hand, pulling me to the security check.

I swallowed and helplessly become dragged away.

"Don't break his heart," was the last thing Spencer Smith would ever say to me ever again.



"I really don't like this airline," Brendon sighed dramatically.

"I'm sure the flight attendant agrees," Michelle muttered. Brendon cast a glare at her.

"Is it really that hard to get a lemonade around here?" He huffed bitterly. He clutched the arm rest and started flipping through channels.

"How's the weather looking for Plymouth?" Michelle asked leaning over Brendon.

"The weather...today....isssss," Brendon said skimming the screen, dragging out his words.

"Slightly sarcastic," Michelle chirped.

"Shut up," he mumbled.

"With a good chance of-"

"Shut-"

"A-"

"Up-"

"Indiffere-"

"Miche-"

"Or B disi-"

"Elle befo-"

"interest in-"

"I do some-"

"What the cr-"

"thing mea-"

"itics saaa-aaaaaaaaaayyy... AY! HEY! STOP THAT! OUCH!" Michelle screamed.

"Make a scene guys," I sighed sarcastically getting self conscious of the passengers glaring at us.

"DID YOU SAY 'MAKE US SCENE'?!" Michelle cried above her pain. "PANIC MEET THE PREEEEEEEEEESSSS!"



"My baby!"

"Mama," I whispered and held tightly to my mother. Going through everything in those two weeks made me realize how lucky I was.

"Brendon!" Ma yelled. Brendon's head snapped up with worried eyes only to meet my mother's loving ones. He realized that she wasn't yelling at him, but beckoning him closer with open arms.

He walked towards her and Ma embraced him tightly clutching him tightly. Brendon responded into the embrace.

I smiled and rested my head on Brendon's eased shoulder.



"I don't want to do this," Damien groaned.

"Oh hush. And stop fidgeting! Or else I'm going to poke you. . . and that in an unfriendly spot," I warned him.

"They had to pick on the newbie. Stupid Roger! I'm going to kill him," Damien muttered.

Every time a new family comes to town, they volunteer the son (if there isn't a son, then daughter) to play a part in the Christmas pageant.

Damien was graced with the role of Joseph.

"I don't even like ducks!" Damien cried out loud. "Owie!" he squealed.

"I warned you. Plus- don't insult Tramp!" I chastised my older brother.

Tramp let out a pathetic quack as he ran into the couch.

This year, the stage animals were borrowed from the local farm.

We luckily, or to Damien's dismay, get to house Tramp (whom I named darlingly) until the play was over.

Which was on the 23.

Which was in a week.

"I can't believe you're going to make me wear this," Damien sobbed.

"Stop whining! Just because Joseph wore simple clothes, doesn't mean he can't spice it up a bit," I said with the roll of my eyes.

I had taken it upon myself to bedazzle Joseph's clothing with a few shimmers of my own.

Ok, so I made Mary's man look a bit. . .

"I LOOK LIKE A FRUITCAKE!" Damien screamed as he ripped off the bottoms.

"Oh- oh dear God," Brendon said as he walked into my room, covering his eyes. "Dames, man. Put your pants back on."

"HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY REFER TO THESE AS PANTS?!"



"How are you feeling?"

"Good. And you?"

"NO. I mean. . .how are you feeling??"

"I'm alright?"

"How. Are. You. Feeling?"

"Sexy?"

Brendon groaned. "I mean how are your er, battle wounds."

"Ah. Those. Well- it doesn't tickle, I'll tell you that," I said poking the bruise on my cheek. Brendon grabbed my finger and set it down before I could cause any more damage to myself.

"So. . ." I trailed off.

"JOKE TIME!" Brendon screamed. I jumped slightly from his sudden outburst.

"Okay," I laughed.

"Spell iCup," Brendon demanded.

"Eye see you- aaahhhh," I laughed catching onto the really lame joke.

"What did the apple say to the banana?" Brendon asked me.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing! Apples can't talk silly!"

I giggled.

"Knock, knock," Brendon prodded me on.

"Whos' there?"

"Les,"

"Les who?"

"Les go out tonight," Brendon bugged out his eyes and said in a Spanish accent. I laughed.

"Ding dong," Brendon kept going.

"Ooh. Decided not to knock?"

"Ding, dong,"

"Yes you are."

"Hey! What if I said knock knock?"

"I would say, you're a ding dong!"

"Knock, knock," Brendon said quietly, pushing his forehead against mine.

"Come on in stranger," I whispered back.

"Knock, knock," He prodded.

"Who's there?" I asked softly.

"Olive," He replied even softer.

"Olive who?"

"Olive you. . ."



"Huh?" I asked.

"Huh?" Brendon said looking up from playing with Tramp.

"Well?"

"...Well?"

"I think the tie is scored," I replied monotonously.

"Shut up. What are you talking about?" Brendon asked.

"I was referring to the talk with my parents," I said calmly. I had sneakily witnessed a secret meeting between Brendon and my parents. I didn't eavesdrop, but merely knew that they were conversing.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Brendon shrugged.

"I saw you three talking. Don't try to get out of it now," I warned him.

"Yeah? Well...you're fat!" Brendon screamed.

"Am not," I pouted. "And even if I was. What's wrong with being fat?"

"Nobody likes fat girls!"

"Better than a balloon lipped baboon!"

"Oh yeah? The girls LOVE this balloon lipped baboon," Brendon whined.



"So how's Damien's pageant going?" Michelle asked before licking her ice cream.

"He's dreading it. But I made him look great so it doesn't even matter."

"Ha! Please tell me there's glitter involved. . ."

"It's DAZZLE-MAZING!"

"Oh you're my hero. How's Brendon?" Michelle asked.

"He's good. He's just resting at home," I said with a shrug.

"You guys do anything exciting lately?" She asked casually, but I noticed the extra glance.

"Nope. Not really," I responded. I knew where she was going. That's why I refused to play her little game.

"He didn't say anything interesting?" Michelle asked.

"He always talks about interesting. Not necessarily intelligent," I added, "But interesting."

"Intereessttinnng..."

"Okay Weasel. What's up your butt crack?" I asked narrowing my eyes at her.

"When are you two going to admit you like each other. Or better yet, when are you going to admit you love him?"

"What!"

"Genviève. Honey, we all want to see you happy. He for some miraculous reason that beyond belief, makes you happy," Michelle said placing her delicate hands on my shoulder.

"Of course I love him. He's the best friend a girl could ask for," I said softly. "That's why I have to send him to his next life and he can leaveme this place."

"Oh Genviève. Don't do this to yourself," Michelle countered.

"Do what?" I turned away.

"Better to love and have lost, than never to love again. . ."

"Either way," I said with a small sigh. "I'll have lost. . .and I don't think I'll ever be able to love again."