Chapter Three

The world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a return to an idealized past. - Robertson Davies

„So, Jonah, huh?” I honestly have no idea what she means.

„What about him?” I say, confused to hell.

„He's pretty cute, huh?” Oh. She likes him. Well, then I guess I was wrong about sibling thing. Shit, if they get together I'll have to see more of him!

„Um, he's okay I guess.” I say. Well, more like lie. He's more than cute. But he's an asshole so I prefer to be in denial. Actually, scratch that, he's a guy with split personalities one of which is an asshole which is just too much for me to handle.

„And he's nice. But in an „I don't take shit” way.” Wow. Lydia swore. This is a first. She must really like him.

„Um, yeah, he seems...okay. I'm sure you two will be happy.” Now she looks confused.

„What? I don't like him!”

„Um, okay. Then why are you listing off his good qualities?”

„Ew, gross. He's like...my brother! I just thought...he'd be perfect for you!” What?!

„Lyds, no way. He's...he's...infuriating. Assholish.”

„See, you don't need someone who agrees with you on everything. Landen did that and see how that turned out?”

„Wow, thanks a lot Lydia, I really needed that.” I snap at her. I really don't like where this is going.

„I'm sorry, Del.” she says and I know she feels genuinely sorry. I sigh. That's the hard thing about Lydia. Jonah was right. It is hard to be mad at her.

„It's okay, Lyds.”

„Okay. Well, anyway, you need someone who will make you want to talk to them?”

„Because of their asinine opinions? Yeah, I sooo need to be with someone who annoys me.”

„He only annoys you because you can't figure him out.” Well, true, but that doesn't mean...

„I don't like him, okay?” I say, and Lydia only smirks. „What are you, anyway, a psychology major? Stop...analyzing me.”

„Well, I'm not, but Jen is.” Jen is a friend of ours. Who likes to phychoanalyze things. Great. Just great. I knew Lydia had something up her sleeve.

„She's gonna be here today, isn't she?” I sigh.

„Yep!” Lydia exclaims happily. Oh, she's a regular old munchkin, huh? „She's just getting the chocolate.” Well, at least I'm finally getting what I went out for.

Silence ensues for a while. I wonder about who told Jonah what Dale looks like, what the hell is up with Jonah, how does Lydia even know him and...dear god. Does anything not revolve around that boy? But...one of those questions is weird.

„Lyds...how do you even know him?” I ask. She smiles.

„Thinking about him, huh?” She teases. I send her a glare. „Well, I don't know, I've known him...forever, it seems. I don't know why I never mentioned him. Actually, I think we met in literature class -he's really good at it, you know?- and we just became friends a few months ago and he's like, my closest guy friend. It feels like he's my brother sometimes.” I try to picture Jonah as a brother but it's not working out. He confuses me. He can be so moody. He can be an asshole. He can be an open book. He can have thoughts that make me really think. He can be a really good friend, or at least, according to Lydia. How does that even work? It's like he's all these different...characteristics, put together.

I voice this thought to Lydia.

„Darling, that's what people are. Characteristics put together. Just because you whenever you meet someone you pick one characteristic and file them under it, it doesn't mean that people are so uncomplicated.” I don't! Do I? No, I don't do that? Do I really do that?

„Do I really do that?”

„Yeah. I mean, when you met me, you thought I was an airhead.” Wha...

„How did you know about that?”

„I may not be into psychology, but I do know people.” She says offhandedly. Wow, people are really surprising me today. Suddenly, I feel guilty for not spending enough time with Lydia when I was with Landen. She's a really good friend. „And you don't still think that. Maybe Jonah isn't a cliche, but from how you described him, I think you got the wrong idea. He hates talking about his artwork. He's convinced no one else can understand it, but not because he's full of himself, but because, well, that's up to him to tell you. He never lets anyone sit next to him while he's drawing, but he let you today. There were other open seats and he volunteered the one next to him. It's really weird. I'll have to ask him about it, but he can get so closed up sometimes...” she sighs and I try to digest this new information. „He's really funny too. And he has all these original ideas...”

The conversation ends at this while I think. He's still an ass. Now he's just...an ass I can't figure out. He's a nice guy around Lydia, but he seems to hate me. Yet he let me sit next to him. Probably because of that letter. Oh. The letter. How the hell does he have that? I can't ask Lydia because she doesn't know about...Brian, and all that stuff. Nobody does.

We get to Lydia's apartment and minutemen is starting as Lydia turns on the TV. She's so adorable sometimes, like how she has Disney Channel.

„Ooh, let's watch this first!” She squeals and I roll my eyes. I don't really care, as long as we don't talk about Jonah anymore. He's on my mind enough as it is.

Halfway through the movie, we're joined by Jen. If it's surprising that me and Lydia are friends, it's really surprising that she and Jen are friends. Jen is...loud. Boisterous. Me at my worst, probably.

She storms in, carrying a bag full of candy. Jen takes one look at the screen and laughs.

„You're watching fucking Disney Channel? Why am I not surprised?” She plops down on the couch on my other side, and puts her feet on Lydia's glass coffee table. Jen's the only one who can get away with doing this, but it still makes Lydia frown. Come to think of it, I'm not sure exactly why she can get away with it. Probably because combined, Lydia's niceness and Jen's „I don't care” attitude, Lydia doesn't call Jen on it and Jen doesn't have the decency not to do it.

„So, what's up?” Jen asks, opening a pack of chips.

„Del and Jonah!” Lydia exclaims before I have the time to even open my mouth.

„Hm...come to think of it, that'd be perfect.” Jen says. What? She knows him and I've never heard of him before? I can't even begin to imagine how Jonah would react to Jen. But it couldn't have been bad, nor was he extra nice, for she respects and likes him, which rarely happens with Jen.

„I know, right?” Lydia squeals and I wince. Rolling my eyes, I begin to regret ever agreeing to this. „Except Del denies it.”

„What?” Jen exclaims. Oh, what, it's so hard to believe I don't like him? What is he, a saint?

„I just...don't like him.” I explain. Jen looks at me and it makes me feel uncomfortable because she's peering like she's trying to figure me out and I just hate when she does that. They seem to accept my answer, but I know they're just looking for a chance to bug me about it more.

„Landen made you feel safe, huh?” Lydia asks softly after a few minutes of silence.

„What? That's random.” I comment, avoiding the question.

„You're so alike.” She almost whispers.

„No, we're not. He's...he's...” To my surprise, I can't think of any bad qualities about Landen that would fit here.

„He's so like you. You both close up about your problems, never really get mad, avoid confrontation...”

„Basically, they're both such private people that they would never work.” Jen summarizes. What, are they ganging up on me now? Landen and I broke up, but that doesn't mean I'm at the phase where I want to talk shit about him.

„Yeah, well, we didn't work. The reason doesn't really matter that much.” I grumble. Oh god, why didn't I just go home?

„Yes, it does.” Lydia persists. „You can learn from it.” I roll my eyes for what seems like the thousandth time today. She sounds like...well, like my mom.

„Del, are you okay? We were just...we didn't mean to hurt you. Del?” It's not them. It's...well, what it always is, the past. Sometimes I wish I could live my teenage years on a loop, but that's impossible. They're over and all that's left are the memories. Of my parents, of Brian. They're not coming back.

„Mhm, yeah, I'm fine.” Shake it off, shake it off. „It's not...you.” She looks so guilty.

„I was just...trying to make a point. Jonah...he brings you out. It's nice to see sometimes.” Now I feel guilty. Am I really that closed up with my friends? They're pretty much the only people I have anymore. What is it about me and alienating people?

„I...you guys, I'm so sorry.” I apologize, not even listening to what Lydia is saying about Jonah. That boy is the reason I'm having a really bad day and I really don't want to think abut him.

„Hey, it's okay, Del.” Lydia hugs me and I'm so surprised that it takes me a few seconds before I hug her back. I don't think anyone's hugged me in a long time.

I sit listening to Paramore for the review I want to write today. Nothing comes to mind though. Sure, crushcrushcrush is a good song. I, personally, like Misery Business more.

Even as I close my eyes and try to focuse in on the music, my thoughts come back to the letter. Who would Brian write a letter to? Why the hell would it end up with Jonah?

My thoughts drift to memories, and I remember Brian. I take out my journal with a heavy sigh. I vowed that this would be the journal I would write in about Brian related stuff, but never, ever read. I start writing.

He was always so...ambitious. He knew what he wanted to do with his life. He worked hard towards it. I just spent the time having fun. I think, secretly, that was what drew me to him. I wanted to be like him. I wanted to know what I wanted to do, who I was. Hell, I was, what, eight when I met him? Even then he came up with weird stuff. I remember once, I had a bloody nose because I got into a fight with...well, someone. I was holding my head back, and Brian came up to me and said:

„Don't do that, it makes the blood go to your throat.”

„What should I do then?” I scoffed.

„Lean forward and let it out. There's no reason to...keep it all in.”

We were friends for six years. If I had a choice, I'd live those six years again instead of the rest of my life now. He was...I was in love with him. No matter how cliche it is. And I never, ever got to tell him.

I think the end was when I started to hate people. Maybe, a little, Amanda was right. She was a bitch about it, and I will never forgive her, but she was a little right.

“You know, you really shouldn’t blow it off like that. This is real. It actually counts.” I had laughed when he said that, like I had laughed countless times before. He knew it, I knew it. Perhaps I would regret it later, perhaps he was more serious than he let on, maybe even hurt, but at the time, we didn’t realize or care to think about it.

“Yeah, okay, Brian.” And he continued doing his homework while I continued doing whatever the hell I was doing. Some days it was drawing, some writing, some goofing off, talking to people and generally being a happy person. The way I saw it, Brian had to work at his scholarship, I had to work at my life. He wasn’t quite at that point yet, but that was okay.

I remember Dale. Remember the day I gave up on her, became myself. I don't think I'll ever forget that. It was the only way I could deal. Escape, become someone new.

What could Brian possibly have to say? In a letter, adressed to Dale? Why am I only hearing about this now. I wouldn't be surprised if it was my mother who kept this from me. She was the one to blame for Brians death, so I wouldn't put it past her to hide a letter. That would be ridiculously Notebookish though.

Disbelief. Sadness. An overwhelming amount of pain. Nothing. Those were my stages of grief. I'm over it now, or as much as you can ever get over your best friend dying, but they were nothing like I'd ever thought them to be before Brian's death.

I just laughed. It's one of those laughs when you know you've lost everything, and you're just laughing at the irony. Ironic laugh. Whatever Jonah's letter has to tell me can't be that bad. No, that would involve...getting into everything again, talking to Jonah, picking up the phone...it's so much easier to just crawl under the covers of my bed and stare at the ceiling while muffling screams into a pillow, and then passing out from exhaustion. It's so much easier to sit and do situps at four AM because I can't sleep. So much easier to eat and eat and eat till I throw up. So much easier to throw books at walls. So easy to light a candle and slowly burn everything that reminded me of Brian, till the flame almost reached my fingers.

Well, in my defence, I had never cut myself. I had to stifle a laugh at that thought. I must stop laughing out loud when no one else is around. I really have a retarded sense of humor. Not even Brian got it sometimes. More times than anyone else could say the same, but I guess my sense of humor is just one of a kind.

I remember, once in history class, my very republican teacher started talking about how murder should never be tolerated, and could hardly muffle my laughter enough so that she'd hear me in the back row. I must've saved Brian a seat next to me (he hated the back row, but could never refuse a seat I'd gone to the trouble to save) because he started laughing too after a while of crinkling his forehead in confusion. The rest of the students must've thought we were out of our minds. I think I got detention for laughing at murder that class.

I remember writing about it in my journal. How the teacher, just the day before, had made us give the „brave american troops” a moment of silence for „risking their lives to keep the peace”. This was at the beginning of the Iraq war, before it had even properly started. Comemorating people for killing others. Giving them medals for murder overseas, and locking them up for the same thing at home. I remember it made me immensly mad. Is an American life worth more than a different one?

What things I cared about back then. Does it really matter? There's a lot more to these things. Of course, the war was immensly wrong, but is there anything I could do about it? Certainly not by writing about it in my journal, the same journal that i then burned, page my page, over that little candle. I used to care about these things. Not enough to go into political science, just a bit. The same bit that I cared about everything else. I was one of those people that was good at everything, but brilliant at absolutely nothing. Furthermore, the things I loved were usually the few things I was crap at.

I was so jealous of Brian in high school. He'd known he wanted to be a doctor since before we met. He had his whole future planned out. I was just...well, half the time I didn't know why he let me tag around. I was so...happy then.

At this thought I have to stop writing. I haven't thought about Brian for the past few months, and even then it was just fleeting thoughts. It's all stupid Jonah's fault. Maybe I should just call him, get it over with.

No, I decide.

I know that I'm a coward. But really, after what I went through, being hurt is the one thing I never want to happen to me again. That cold, cold, feeling on my chest that I couldn't get rid of for years. The way whenever I wasn't doing anything my thoughts would lead me to crying. The way everyone was so sympathetic, as if they'd ever experienced this. Half the time I would lay in bed all day. Half the night I couldn't sleep, yet I never, ever, wanted to get up in the morning.

Maybe this is the reason for my retarded sleeping habits, the way I can never get up in the morning. My body got so used to snatching up whatever moments of sleep it could get, it never learned to let go. Getting up in the morning was the hardest thing I had to do all day.

A few months of that and I figured out that work gave me that same feeling sleep did. An opportunity to escape from dangerous thoughts. I raised all my grades. I never even cared about what I got, I just cared that I had a lot to do. When there wasn't schoolwork to do, I went through my math textbook doing every single problem, did sudoku puzzles, anything.

All that time that used to be spent going to the movies with Brian, discussing homework he was doing (and yet I rarely bothered to do it myself even if I knew all the answers after half-doing his), just hanging out, chasing each other around the mall...he was my best friend, a true one that's like a part of yourself, and just losing that...it left me to, for lack of a less cliche phrase, fill the void.

I decide to call Lydia. Her chatter usually gets rid of my mopey mood, if only for a few minutes. A vision of me crying, kness hugged to my chest, I can't get rid of. It's what I really want to do, but I can't. I can't let this overcome me.

„Hey, Lydia.” I call her.

„Hey. What's up?”

„Um. Nothing. Just...getting depressed about the past, I guess.”

„Oh, yeah, I know that feeling. You wish you were back in those days, huh?”

„Yeah, exactly.” Except on a much larger scale, I add to myself.

„Well, someday we'll look back on today and wish we were here. But usually, back then, we wanted to be somewhere else, we regretted things we did...We were still ourselves, and maybe the situation's changed but nobody really changes, I don't think.” Oh, she'd be surprised. Sometimes I'm annoyed by now naive Lydia can be.

„Maybe.” I say offhandedly. Regrets? Let there be no regrets. „Hey, do you have Jonah's phone number?” Well, asking won't hurt. I don't have to call.

„Um, sure. Hold on a second.” Lydia says after a few beats, clearly surprised. Yeah, well, she probably thinks I like him. I don't, I still don't like him but...well, I need something from him.

I suddenly realize I miss Landen. He was the reason I didn't talk as much with Lydia for a reason. He was so easy to talk to. And I never thought about Brian when I was with him.

„Del, are you there?”

„Um, yeah.”

„Okay. Well, Jonah's phone number?”

„Oh right.” I get out a post it and a pen.

„683631845” I jot it down quickly.

„Okay. Well, I guess I'll talk to you later.”

„Wait!”

„Um, okay...”

„Why do you need his phone number?”

„Lydia, if you were any good at this, you would have asked me that before you gave me number.” I say and put down the phone with a self-satisfied smirk on my face.

Oh my god. I think he's getting to me.

Him with all his stupid sarcasm. Maybe I should just call him and yell at him.

I do have his number after all.

No, Del, no.

I finger the post-it with the phone number. I can't call him. I've come to terms with Brian's death. I can't just...uncover, all of that now. It wouldn't be healthy. Plus I doubt Jonah would be my preferred person to ever witness something like that.

His death, for lack of a better word, shattered me. I don't think I've recovered, yet. It's not something you just get over. Your best friend just dying, one day. And okay, it wasn't really out of the blue, but I still hadn't actually prepared a sort of emotional barrier or whatever to shield myself.

Ah, screw this. I need that letter.

I dial the number slowly.

„Ring...ring...” Not really knowing why, a flash of panic comes over me and I frantically hit the little red button.

Stop being silly, I lecture myself. It's not like you're...asking him out or something.

Asking him out? Where did that come from?

I would never go out with that insolent, stupid...boy.

I'm just calling because he has something that rightfully belongs to me.

„ring...ring...ring” Oh dear god, people don't like to pick up their phones, do they? Well then, why does he even have one if he's not going to-”Hello?”

„aah!” I say, sort of startled I hate that. Every time I call someone and they say something I'm not expecting I can't organize my thoughts. „I mean, hello. Look, I want my letter! I'm entitled to it, and you can't just keep it because of some stupid grudge you obviously have against me, which, might I add, there is no foundation for except that you're an ass, and-”

„Um, do you want Jonah?” Wha-?

„Who are you?”

„Mike. Hold on a second.” He says, and I feel mortified. Great. I just yelled at the wrong person.

Absolutely marvelous, Del. Very, very, smart move.

„Del?” A voice says tentatively.

„Jonah?” I ask, my voice stronger that his being my only advantage right now. I'll probably never hear the end of it. Not that I plan on spending that much time with him. I just want my letter. But, he may tell Lydia, and then...

„Yeah.” He answers easily, adding „this time” under his breath.

„Hey, that wasn't my fault. I didn't know you had a roommate.”

„I don't. He's just...Mike. Hangs around here, has a weird habit of intercepting my calls. Though I must say, I am surprised to hear from you. Even if you just called to call me an ass.” He says, humor evident in his voice.

God, he's so ANNOYING.

AND he's got bipolar, I think. So easygoing now, so serious last time I saw him...

who the hell IS he?

I marvel at the fact that I actually want to figure that out.

„That, contrary to your belief, was not my objective.” I put on my cold, calculating, smart voice. „I want that letter.”

„Ah.” I swear, I can HEAR his smirk. „Well then. Meet me in the park behind the post office in an hour.”

And he hangs up.

Really, why ISN'T he with Lydia? Though while it's endearing with her, the stupid hanging up habit is just so bloody annoying with him.

Well, what can I do? I just really hate that he recognizes the power he has over me. Well, once I get that letter...I'll invest in a practical jokes book or something.

I get into my car and drive. Why did he have to choose the park? I love the park. It's like a sanctuary to me. I love going there to read, though I haven't in quite a while. Still, I associate the place with good memories, and knowing him, it's all going to be ruined. I sigh heavily, and put on a Dashboard Confessional CD. I know it's terribly cliche, but I do listen to them when I'm not particularily happy.

Parking is a breeze. It's sort of an old, abandoned, overgrown park. I guess not many people like that thing.

Getting out of the car, I eye the old ice-cream stand. They have some really good ice-cream there. Hm...

„Breck.” A voice scares me. Instinctily I tense up. I turn around slowly.

Ah, of course. Jonah. Well, who else would creep up on me in a creepy park?

„Evans.” I nod at him. Well, what? If he thinks we're on last name basis, why not?

We stand in silence for what feels like forever.

„Do you have the letter?” I ask finally. He merely offers a small smirk and says:

„I'm not giving it away THAT easily.” I glare at him. What the hell does he want. „Come on, it's cold out here.” Well, maybe for him since he's only wearing jeans and what looks like a very worn AFI tshirt. I, however, sensible person I am, am wearing jeans, a tshirt, a sweater, and a light spring jacket, so I am nowhere near cold.

„Well, maybe you should have worn a jacket.” I say, slightly condescendingly (which I know makes me a hypocrite. He really does bring out the worst in me).

„I didn't exactly plan on standing around in a park for ages. Let's go.”

„What? Where?” I ask. What's wrong with this place?

„Well, I'm hungry.”

„Have an ice-cream.” I shrug. „And for god's sake, give me that letter.” He rolls his eyes and doesn't dignify me with an answer.

„Just come with me.” He says, exhasperated for some reason. And for some reason, I follow.

He stopps by an old motorcycle. I love motorcycles. I've wanted one for about ten years, but never actually got around to getting one. Why are we stopping, though?

Suddenly I notice that Jonah is holding out a black helmet and looking at me expectantly, and a little bit as if I'm stupid. Holy shit. It's his?

I silently take the helmet and put it on. Well, at least I get a motorcycle ride out of this. I just hope he doesn't drag me somewhere and kill me.

He puts on another helmet and gets on the bike.

„Well? You coming or not?” Eh. At least I'm not stuck at home. Surprising even myself, I get on.

„Where are we going?” I ask softly.

„Where do you go to get food?” He asks back, and I'm surprised he can ask something like that without sarcasm.

„Resaurant?” I venture a guess. Is he taking me to a restaurant? Because...I don't want to eat out with him. Really.

„Nope. Dig deeper. Where do restaurants get their food?”

„Supermarkets?”

„Yep.”

„But...the lines, today...and what do you eat at a supermarket anyway?”

„Oh, you'd be surprised.” He says, and I don't want to indulge him by asking about it further. This thought reminds me of Pride and Prejudice and I frown. I never liked that book.

„Alright.” I say, and get on.

I keep quiet. Spring is my favorite time of year. The way the sun shines the very first time on your shoulders, the way a gray fog is taken off everything...nothing compares, and yet the only time I remember this is, well, the start of every spring.

Why won't he give me the stupid letter? Then we could put it past us and never speak again? Maybe he doesn't want that. Why wouldn't he though? It can't be that he likes me. I'm not exceptionally pretty and I rarely even try, and I was pretty awful to him when I met him. Hell, he was awful to me to. And now he won't give me the letter to just get rid of me, and he's taking me to a...supermarket.

Oh my god, what if he's trying to kill me? What if he's a psycho?

Though, I suppose, then he'd take me to a secluded place, and not a brightly lit supermarket with hundreds of people.

Maybe we're not going to a supermarket. Maybe he only said that to get to agree to this.

„Which supermarket are we going to?” I ask tentatively.

„You'll see.” He answers, which does nothing to settle my nerves.

„You...go there often?”

„Sometimes. What's with the questions?”

„Trying to make conversation?”

„Well, quit it. I hate small talk.” Wow. Well, he's nice. Brutally honest, the only to way to sure fire hurt people. I bet he thinks he's special. I try to think of something clever to say but come up blank. I hate when that happens.

„Are you going to give me the letter?” I ask instead.

„I haven't decided yet.” He tells me and I sigh in exasperation.

We stop at a Carrefour supermarket in town. I wonder what the hell he eats there.

But I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of asking, no matter how juvenile that sounds.

He takes off his helmet and I smirk to myself because the obvious cut in his already sticking up hair looks relaly ridiculous, like he just got up.

„You coming?” he asks.

I nod. „It's not like I have a choice.” I'm being mean but he's dragging me here for no apparent reason but to stall.

„That's right.” He smirks and I grit my teeth.

We go in the supermarket and he stops at this small donut place that I've seen but never actually bough anything in because, to be honest, it looks sort of scary.

„Hey, Betty.” Jonah says to the old lady behind the counter. Betty? He knows that lady?

„Hello, Jonah. How are you?”

„Not bad, actually. Yourself?”

„Oh, well, you know. At my age...but I can't complain. The usual?”

„Um, yeah, hold on a sec.” He turned to me. „You want something?” He...knows that lady. That is...so weird.

„She'll have chocolate with sprinkles.” He told Betty, and they shared a smile. Dammit, I have to stop embarassing myself. I can't just...not answer a question because I'm in shock. Who does that?

I expect a donut but instead I see two boxes. Jonah hands Betty a 20 bill. I'm aware enough to quickly pull out a ten to pay for what looks like a dozen chocolate sprinkled donuts for me. Jonah looks at me like I'm silly but gives me back 8 nonetheless. I suppose maybe not all of the box is for me and again I wish I'd think things through.

We turn back towards the parking lot and I feel like I should say something but Jonah hates small talk, and I don't really want to talk to him anyway, but he bought me a donut and has a letter that I want to read but my common sense says that's a bad idea. The letter, I mean.

„Who are they for?” I finally ask, referring to the donuts.

„Mike. He's got a thing for donuts. Plus whoever else that's around today.” Around today? Where? He just gets more confusing.

„Where are we going?” I ask.

„House, I guess.” Only later do I wonder why he says house instead of home.

We get there roughly ten minutes later and I wonder what the hell it is I'm doing. He opens his door and I almost mention that he should lock it, but I don't, because, well, it's none of my business.

I take a look around. A few people are sprawled in front of the TV, eating pizza and hanging out.

„Hey! It's Jonah! Everybody, it's Jonah!” Jonah smiles shyly. Yeah, shyly. I guess having a boisterous friend does that for you. God knows Jen makes me feel like a mouse sometimes.

„Hey, Mike. I got the donuts.” He says, passing him a box. He opens the other box, takes out four carefully wrapped donuts, and gives Mike the rest. I stand behind him, awkwardly, wondering if I should...I don't know, introduce myself?

„Awesome, man. And whose your friend?” He asks. Yeah, me. I bet Jonah forgot about me. I wonder why that makes me feel bad.

„This is Del. From, uh, art class.” He says.

„Hey, Del. Artist, huh?” I smile politely. „Well, this is Sam, Mark, and Addy.” The two guys and girl mutter „Hey” while fighting over the donuts. I notice Jonah is standing in the dorway to another room, motioning for me to follow him. I silently do.

It's a kitchen,and he sets down the three chocolate sprinled donuts on one place, and sits opposite from it with a multicolored one. I think it's one of those with chocolate inside, which is why he only needs one. Those things fill you up pretty fast. I take one of my donuts and eat it, and it's really really good. I must be pretty hungry because before I know it, I'm on my third one. Jonah smiles, and it's the first non sarcastic smirky smile I've seen on him, and he does have a nice smile. Makes you wanna smile too. But I can't forget he's an asshole, so I don't.

The girl walks in at this moment. „Hey. Sorry about before. I'm Addison, but call me Addy.” She gives me a wave.

„Del.” I smile at her. She's wearing black jeans and a bright red shirt with what looks like a phoenix on it, and red converse that someone has drawn on. What's most striking, though, are the red highlights in her black hair.

„So, Jonah knows you from art class?” She grabs some orange juice.

„Um, sort of.” I say. „I don't actually go there, but my friend dragged me and...”

„Oh, she swept you off your feet?” Addy laughs looking at Jonah. I don't get the joke. Jonah glares at Addy. She ignores him and continues on. „Jonah's never been friends with anyone who's into art.” Huh. That's interesting.

„Why's that?” I think, hoping she won't think I'm trying to pry.

„Oh, my brother's probably just protecting his ego.” She laughs. I smile at this.

„Brother?”

„He didn't tell you. Figures. Well, here's the short version. I'm Jonah's sister, Mark's my boyfriend, Sam's my best friend, and Mike, is, well, Mike.” I smile while I try to get my head around it.

„Addy. Seriously.” Jonah says, annoyed.

„Right. That's my cue to leave.” She says, laughing as she returns to the movie.

„She seems nice.” I say.

„Right. Don't let her brainwash you.” Jonah says sullenly. I smile. „So. What's your story?” he asks.

„Ah. So that's your plan. Bribe me with donuts so I can't help but to tell you everything about me.” I don't know what it is, but he brings out a humorous side in me.

„Yep. Except you ruined it all by paying for them.”

„Hah. Yep, that's my evil plan.”

„So...what is your story? Seriously.”

„Seriously? I don't want to talk about it. What's yours?”

„Ditto.”

„Good, then that's settled. Can I have my letter?”

„Nah. Not till you tell me.”

„You won't tell me yours. That's hardly fair.”

„Yes, but I've got something you want. Go on.”

„No.”

„Fine. I'll just keep it then.”

"Come on, this isn't funny anymore. Give me the letter."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What do you say?"

"Please."

"Hm...no, not enough, Breck. What do I get out of it?"

"Getting me away from you?" I smiled sweetly. He pretended to consider it, though we both knew he already had an answer in mind.

"Oh, but see, I don't want that and you clearly do. Which gives me an idea..." He grinned evilly. Oh no.

"What is it?" I sighed exhasperatedly.

"You have four months to convince me. Then I have to go back. So you'd better find a way to make me really, really, really, want to get rid of that letter."

"So you're proposing four months in your constant company doing whatever the hell it is you want?"

"Yup."

"That's the worse idea I've ever heard."

"Yup." He nodded. I shook my head.

"I have to go. Bye." I took my coat and not even bothering to put it on, stormed out. Except I'm not sure I did a great job because I could still hear him laughing as I slammed the door.

AN: Yeah, well...as always, reviews would be appreciated :) How do you like Jonah so far?