Charolette leaned against the brick wall of her former high school, considering the thought of carving her initials back into the wall. They'd re done it four times since she graduated, eight years ago. She was just back here in her home town for the Fall Festival.

Her brother, Jamie, had conned her into coming back for the first time since she left for college to help her family with their pumpkin shooting stand. It was a dollar a try, and they usually made a thousand, give or take a few bucks, to donate to the hospital.

God, she missed helping at the festival. But she didn't return much, because of too many memories. Her Mom died in the hospital, all because of a drunk driver, and her boyfriend of five years broke up with her right before she left for college. When she returned that Christmas, she learned that he'd left her for Barbara Gene, someone she could never be. He told her it was because of opportunities, or something of the like, not because he wanted to be with some other woman.

Charolette had cried for about a day when she found out, then she left the day after Christmas, claiming something about Christmas with her new friends.

Charolette pulled her brother's brown suede jacket closer around herself, not noticing who just walked up, and leaned up beside her on the wall.

“I thought your brother's threats of handing you your butt on a platter were enough to keep you from stealing his jacket,” Matthew said, pulling out a pack of gum, and popping a piece into his mouth. “Guess not.”

Charolette ignored him further, contemplating walking off, the way he'd done her eight years ago. She inwardly kicked herself for considering something so stupid, as it would make her such a coward, the way it made him.

“Still hope my purpose in life will be to become street pizza, huh?” Matthew brushed some hair from his face, and pushed his glasses further up his nose.

“You can bet your but I do,” Charolette replied, venom in every word. “I usually don't take too kindly to those who break up with me, lying about their reasons. If you had just been truthful in the first place, then maybe I wouldn't have stuffed that potato in your tailpipe before I left.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Babs left me when she found someone who was loaded. I'm still living in my old apartment.” He blew a bubble.

“Not as much as a busted up tailpipe, and obscenities spray painted on your door did.”

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Charolette had taken to playing Bejeweled on her phone, and Matthew slid down the wall, and rested his head on his knees. Charolette muted her phone when she thought she heard sniffling, then passed it off as her mind playing tricks on her when she didn't hear anything but some cars passing.

She flipped her phone shut, then slid down the wall, herself, leaning her head back against the cool brick. Turning her head to the side, she noticed that Matthew was shaking, and began to feel sorry for him. No, you can't do that! That little...thing dumped you for that other...thing. Don't show any mercy!

Charolette thought against herself for a moment, and rested a hand between Matthew's shoulders.

Matthew raised his head, and Charolette noticed the tears that were threating to spill over in his eyes. He'd taken off his glasses, and laid them beside himself on the concrete. It still broke Charolette's heart to see him like this. The last time she'd seen him like that was when his Mama left shortly after they'd gotten together.

Matthew's parents had been having problems, and finally, his Mama cracked, saying how she wasn't going to stay in that pathetic excuse of a home. She wanted something better, and not a two bedroom apartment, with pealing linoleum. She'd taken his little brother with her, and Tyler returned home two years later, claiming something about how he'd stolen her stash of crack money, and that she was probably still out with that guy she'd left the bar with. Probably didn't even notice he was gone.

They hadn't heard from her in years, and as far as Charolette knew, they still hadn't.

Stop! Stop feeling so much sympathy for that dirty, lying snake! Just stop it!

Charolette went against the protesting voice in her head, and rubbed small circles between his shoulder blades, ignoring it when he tried to shrug her off.

“Stop. You don't need to,” His voice was a bit crackly. “It's my fault I'm crying, so don't bother with me.” Hearing that made Charolette's heart wrench; she still loved him that much. She still loved Matthew to death, despite the fact that he'd lied to her.

“I didn't need to stuff that potato in the tailpipe of your Sonoma, but I did it anyway.” She smirked when she heard Matthew chuckle a bit.

“Why do you bother with me now? I left you for the person you hated most, besides Avril Lavigne. Shouldn't you be trying to rub it in?”

“Matt,” It had been years since she'd referred to him as anything other than Snake. “I really don't know. I still love you, despite that you're a lying sack of dirt.” Charolette instantly regretted what she'd just said, and mentally smacked herself.

“Yeah, right. You sent a load of spam to me on your birthday, that first year, and killed my computer.” Matthew rubbed his eyes. He was less crackly, now.

“And I'm glad I found a use for all that junk mail. But I still love you, Matt.” Charolette contemplated her next thought. “I still love you enough to give you a second chance, if you want it.” Charolette leaned toward him, and brushed his hair out of his eyes, the way she'd done since they were twelve.

“I do. More than anything. I'd never be able to accept it if I lost you. I found it hard to accept when Babs left me, and even harder to accept that I'd done the same thing to you,” Matthew leaned back against the wall.

Charolette scooted away from the wall, turned, and kissed him. She'd missed his warmth. “If you're gonna break up with me, don't lie to me.” She rested a hand on the side of his face, picked his glasses up off the concrete, and handed them to him to put back on.