Disclaimer: So yeah, I don't own the clique…too bad.

Deep reds. Vibrant yellows. Burnt oranges. Chocolate browns.

As I peered out the side window of our family's silver Rolls-Royce Phantom, I sighed reminiscently. The colorful fallen leaves danced in the wind, swirling up with grace, and plummeting down suddenly. The trees swayed simultaneously, as if listening to the same hit single. Everything about this place felt like home. It was home.

England had been so dull and gray. Every year, when it came time, I drooped at the thought of going back. I had made some awesome friends, and didn't mind the school, but I couldn't stand missing autumn in my hometown.

I chuckled as I passed by Denton Park. It was totally off-limits, but my best friend and I had decided to try and climb over the wrought iron fence anyway. At 4'1, with no coordination whatsoever, it surely wasn't the brightest idea we ever came up with.

With a nagging pain in my stomach, I sighed again, more heavily this time. My best friend.

Ever since the age of three, he had been my best friend. I could remember the first day we met as if it was just yesterday. Our fathers worked in the same law firm, and our moms had met at one of the many charity functions held in New York. That day, our families had been invited to a family luncheon. We hadn't gotten on well. I mean, could you expect us to? Think about it. Girl. Boy. Two years old.

When our mothers had introduced us, he had smiled with a wide, gapped-tooth grin, reaching for me.

"Awweee," the mothers had said. "Isn't that just the cutest thing?"

Everything was fine right up to the point where his mom, Casandra, had loosened her restraining arms and put him on the ground, allowing him to get closer to me. With delight he lunged at me – as well as a two year old could, which in his case, was surprisingly well – and proceeded to rip out a section of my chestnut brown hair.

"Oooo," he had said with wide eyes and lips formed into the shape of an 'o.' You can probably guess what happened next.

I slapped him as hard as I could before bursting into a combination of gurgles and sobs. The only satisfaction I got was the loud crying I heard after I slapped him. Hah.

Our mothers disciplined us and apologized profusely to one another saying things like, "I don't' know what got into him," and, "I'm so sorry, she's still learning not to hit others."

Following this encounter, our parents were extremely weary of having us in the same vicinity – as would be expected. Casandra and Kendra, however, were growing to be excellent friends, and it seemed inevitable that he and I would cross paths again soon. Tentatively our mothers made plans for us to have a 'play date.' It had been a couple months and we were young, so it was hoped that we would get along better this time.

That day we went to the park where they had what I called a 'supa dupa swide' or 'super duper slide.' It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen in my life. The slide – fluorescently striped orange and yellow – towered over the rest of the playground. It twisted and turned, and made your hair stand up by the end of it – due to static electricity which I didn't know of at the time. As far as I was concerned, it was magical. End of story.

So there I was standing at the top platform, when at last the person in front of me had gone down. What's more, was that 'troll boy,' up to this point, was nowhere to be seen – probably somewhere else on the playground, which meant I was as happy as pie. In any case, I had tried my best to steer clear of him.

Right when I was about to sit down and shoot down the slide, a relatively large, scary-looking boy stepped in front of me.

"Heyyy," I whined, pouting.

He turned around and glared at me. "What?" He snapped, smirking. With a glint in his eye, he began mocking me. "Awe, does poor baby want a turn?"

My bottom lip quivered and my breathing became unsteady.

"Well too bad. I'm five and you're just a little, whiny baby." He stuck out his tongue, scrunching his face like a pug – and not of the cute variety.

"Since I'm bigger than you, what I say goes."

I had a game plan. Burst into tears and tell mommy.

None of the other kids looked like they were going to stand up to him, and I definitely wasn't going to. But to my surprise, someone did.

"Hey," said a quiet but defiant voice. It came from somewhere behind us.

The bully turned around, seething, almost daring whoever it was to say anything else.

"It was hew. Tewn." After some rustling the voice's owner stepped out from behind some other kids. What'd ya know, it was troll boy.

Meany Bully was temporarily lost for words. "No, it's my turn."

"No-wa. She wus der fewst."

I stood there awestruck. Meany Bully was glaring venomously at Troll Boy, and Troll Boy… was glaring right back. His bottom lip was puckered and his eyes were challenging. Mean Bully didn't know what to do, and seemed to shrink a little bit. I don't know how it would have gone down if they actually fought, but I have an idea. Troll Boy had a lot of tenacity, but Meany Bully had two years on him. Luckily for Troll Boy, Meany Bully's mom saw the commotion, and came by.

"Larson! Are you budging again?" demanded who I assumed to be his mother.

He denied it, but it was his turn to tremble.

She looked at me, and it was obvious from my expression that he hadn't been a good boy. She grabbed him off the platform and reprimanded him for his behavior.

I was still weary of him, and didn't plan on turning my back on him anytime soon. Only when they were what I considered to be a safe distance away, I relaxed and turned to face Troll Boy.

"Tanks." I said, looking at the ground.

"Wutevew," he replied shrugging his shoulders. "You can go now-a."

Troll Boy looked a little impatient, so I went.

"Wheeeeee!"

It may have not seemed like much, but you don't forget something like that. It was the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

After that day, I didn't have anymore problems with him, with the exception of a few minor disagreements over who go the last piece of cake and so on and so forth. We ended up doing everything together. We were partners for every project, teammates for every game, and confidants for every secret. I cheered at his soccer games, he attended my dance recitals, I helped him with history, and he edited my poetry. We were always there for one another. On movie nights we'd watch like four movies in a row and totally pig out, waking up the next day at around 1 p.m. Other days we could just hang out. He was my best friend. Is my best friend. At least I hope so - with all my heart.
When my mom and dad told me I was going to boarding school that horrible, stormy night – or at least that's how I like to look back on it; in reality it had been a perfect, cloudless evening – I remember exactly how I felt. Devastated. Shocked. Horrified. Pained. I remember what I thought as well. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't.

But it was.

I also remember the night I told him. It was a night full of even more anger, sorrow, and loss – if that's possible.

But we promised. We promised. No matter what, we'd be best friends…forever.

In the years that followed, it proved difficult to keep that promise. We tried, but it seemed to always be in vain.

During the summer our families went on vacation, and only once did we ever go to the same place; which left Christmas.

Christmas is what really held us together. It was, and still is my favorite time of year. Fall is my favorite season, but Christmas…it's incomparable.

As the years progressed, it became a little awkward seeing each other after a year of separation, but we always managed to overcome it and fall back into our old rhythm. Setting up Christmas lights, shopping for presents, decorating the Christmas tree, making cookies – we did everything together. The whole Christmas holiday was fabulous, but Christmas morning was the best. Every year our parents allowed us to have a sleepover, knowing how much it meant for us to be together. We got up really early and raced downstairs to open each others presents. The rule was whoever woke up first had to wake up the other person as well. It was only fair.

When everyone else was up, we spent the morning exchanging gifts. After stuffing ourselves with Casandra's amazing berry waffles, we prepared for our annual game of Christmas football.

Cooking Christmas dinner was a family affair, and everyone got their hands dirty, including his resistant older brother, Ryan.

Thinking about Christmas made me want it to come all that much faster. It had become about the only time I ever saw him…or talked to him…or anything.

It's not like we didn't try; we did. It just became so difficult. School got harder and more time consuming – with projects on top of projects, and stacks of essays to boot – and after-school activities basically stripped us of any time we may have had.

At first we talked ever day – on the phone, on MSN, through texts, or whatever else we could get our hands on. The next year it became more difficult, and we knew it couldn't last. Soon enough, we only managed to email once a month and phone calls became limited to birthdays; which was why Christmas was so important. It was our time.

I think it may have meant more to me than it did to him, but he treated it like it was the most special time for him as well. For me? I don't know. He cleared his busy schedule and spent every waking minute with me. When one of my old friends invited him to do something, he always insisted on me coming, and rejected any invitations to parties where I didn't know anyone. I never took for granted what he did for me every Christmas. Never. I just hope he'll be happy to see me now. After all these years, so much has changed.

"Ms. Abeley, we have arrived."

I snapped out of my reverie. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to clear my head.

"Thank you Cedric," I said as I exited the car.

Marymount-Gray Academy was exactly as I'd remembered.

I saw a group of teenagers pass by as I gazed at the main building. They didn't really pay attention to me, with the exception of several side glances and questioning expressions passed between one another. They were probably too absorbed in their back-to-school banter. I didn't mind, this was somewhat of a private moment for me anyways. But as the rest of the group continued forward, one person stopped.

"Layne?" he said, unsure.

I turned and smiled. Derrick.

A/N: Like? Dislike? Possibilities? R&R – I'll love you for it!

Love babii-brunette-x