Austin giddily stuck his hand into the giant, Santa-like bag as he stood by the stairs in Sonic Boom with his two friends, Dez and Trish. His fingers brushed against creases and corners of envelopes when they came in contact with something, sticky?
"What the," Austin flinched pulling the object out of the bag. "Is this…"
"My chewed gum!" Dez finished, smiling proudly. "I knew you'd love it!" Austin dropped it immediately and rubbed his now wet hand on the side of his pants.
"Guys, how many times do I have to tell you? There's no eating in the store!" Ally quickly walked by and picked up the chunk of gum from the floor, ready to toss it in the trash. "Why is this wet?" she almost screamed, throwing it at Dez's torso. She stared at her hand, disgusted and unsure what to do, but in one swift motion she wiped her palm down Austin's cheek. The blond froze, unable to believe that Dez's spit was now on his face.
"What, just, why," Austin stuttered, as he squirmed and twitched and tried to get as far away from his cheek as possible. Not amused, Ally pulled out a package of baby wipes from under the counter as everyone stared at her.
"What? I like to be protected from germs, okay?"
"If you had baby wipes, then why did you have to do this to my face?" Austin retorted through gritted teeth and pointed to his cheek. He reached for a wipe, but she pulled them away and hugged them against her chest. "Give me a wipe." He reached farther over the counter, almost lying flat across it.
"No, I need them all." Ally backed away as Austin reached further and further. Dez rolled his eyes and Trish elbowed him in his side—well hip—and the duo continued to rummage through the fan mail.
Once they looked away, they heard a dull thump, and it didn't take long for Ally's high pitched giggle to fill the room. Austin slowly rose from the ground, now on the other side of the counter. With a scowl on his face, he snatched the small package of wipes from Ally's hands as she was hunched over laughing.
"Something smells…like glue," Dez mumbled as he stuck his entire head into the bag. "No, no, that's not it." The gang could hear Dez deeply inhaling in the bag, trying to place the aroma.
"Glue?" Trish questioned, looking up at the ceiling.
"No, no, cinnamon! I always get it confused with glue," Dez retorted, his head leaving the bag and smiling at his friends. Austin chuckled to himself while Trish smacked her own palm against her forehead.
"Do you think someone sent me cookies?" Austin's eyes opened wide and he licked his lips as he quickly walked over to join Dez. The ginger continued his search by plunging his head back into the bag, the rim now up to his shoulders.
"No, it smells more like Christmas. Aha!" Dez surfaced with a pink envelope pressed firmly under his nose. "Christmas," he sighed contently.
At this point, Ally had grabbed Trish by her curly locks and slowly dragged her among the instruments and away from the boys. Austin and Dez continued to smell the envelope, and the two were able to back away silently.
"Trish," Ally grumbled, anger laced through the notes of her voice. The shorter friend picked her nails and smiled guiltily.
"Well you weren't going to do anything about it!" Ally's hands covered her face as her friend's deed sunk into her mind.
A few weeks ago, Trish had stumbled upon Ally writing furiously on a several pink sheets of paper. She wasn't writing in her songbook, and she wasn't doing her homework. Ally was writing a letter.
"That's why I threw the letter out! I didn't want to do anything with it," Ally hissed back.
"But I read it, and it was so good. I just—"
"Whatever. You're going to help me get it back before he reads it." Ally crossed her arms, looking down at Trish and smirking. She turned to walk away, feeling betrayed and hurt, but that was only the least of her worries. She couldn't let Austin Moon read fan mail from herself.
*.*
Trish and Ally weren't sure what they were doing, balancing on a tree branch outside of Austin's room. Trish was sure Mike and Mimi would let them upstairs if they just rang the doorbell, but Ally lectured her that there was no guarantee they'd say yes. So here they were, bare-feet against bark, shoes in hand, and Trish's complaints close behind.
"At least if I die, I won't have to go to work tomorrow."
"Trish!"
"But if you die, I'll still have to go, and I won't have anywhere to hang out during my breaks."
"Trish, no one is going to die. Look the window is even open, and I'm sure the letters are in his closet. That's where he always puts them."
"How do you know he hasn't read it yet?"
"Because I told Dez and Austin that there was a Zaliens movie marathon in the mall. Austin can never pass up a Zaliens movie."
Ally threw her shoes through the window, and they landed quietly on Austin's bed. In a very awkward and difficult reach, she pulled herself through the window, falling to the floor face first. Trish threw her shoes next, but they flung across the room and into Austin's wall.
"Oops," Trish whispered while falling through the window just like Ally had.
"Look, let's just find the letter and leave before anyone knows we're here." Ally opened the closet and tugged the mail bag across the floor. She and Trish scrambled through it, looking for the pink envelope that smelled like Christmas.
"Why don't you want him to read it, anyways?" Trish asked quietly, as if she was afraid of Ally fuming at her in response.
"You're going to think it's stupid," Ally mumbled while bringing her hands into her lap. The girls gave up looking for the letter, and Trish, ready to listen, stared at Ally.
"Well, try to make me understand then."
"I think I like Austin, I mean I don't even know if I do. Every time he comes into the store, I'm happier. Every time I hear his name, I feel like I can't breathe. I always imagined butterflies in your stomach to make you feel something special, but all I feel is sick.
"But I can't imagine us being together, really. It feels too weird. It would mess everything up between us and also our whole group. I don't want to be the reason everything falls apart."
"Why does everyone always say that?" Trish piped up. "Why does everyone always think that when friends date, the whole group will be ruined? If the couple is happier, shouldn't everyone be happier?"
"But what if we break up?"
"That seems like an awful thing to think about, going into a relationship." Trish put an arm around her friend's shoulder. She had been here; living in misery and too afraid to actually try. "The way I see it, you can either go on, pretending and starving yourself from a relationship, or you can make a move." Trish wiggled her eyebrows and nudged Ally's side. The brunette finally smiled, hugging her friend. But then something sitting on Austin's desk caught her eye.
"I think I already did make a move," Ally voiced, worried.
There on Austin's desk, sprawled open was Ally's pink letter. The envelope had been neatly opened and placed alongside it. Ally slowly walked over to it, her expression blank and frozen. It was lying face up, the words burning her eyes, and she swallowed the taste of blood that was slowly creeping down her throat.
Dear Austin Moon,
I hate the smell of pancakes, and the stickiness of syrup. I hate how you like hotdogs with everything except ketchup. I hate the thought of cheerleaders sitting in your room. And I hate how you can get away with everything just because you're Austin Moon. I hate how I like to help you whenever you're in trouble. I hate how I hate the thought of us as a couple.
This sucks bye.
"Trish! Why did you put this one in?"
"I didn't know which one to choose, so I put them all in the envelope," Trish replied in a small voice.
"All of them!?"
"Oops." Trish voiced, while coming up behind Ally as she sifted through the sheets.
Dear Austin Moon,
You're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb you're dumb what the fuck bye.
"Oops." Now it was Ally's turn to be embarrassed as Trish rolled her eyes.
"Here I think this is the right one." Trish pulled a sheet from the bottom of the pile and placed it in Ally's tiny hands.
Dear Austin Moon,
You see me, at least I have that. You know my name, my favorite color, and we talk every day. So am I wrong to still feel miserable?
I watch you talk to girls, and you think your charm is irresistible. I watch you hug them goodbye and say you'll call, though you never do. I listen to all your problems and give you advice. I even solve everything for you when I can't stand to see you helpless.
But I don't hate it. I love it. I love every second by your side, or when I hear your name. I imagine what it'd be like to hear you call my name, the notes of your voice threaded with love.
But that's all I'll do, for now at least. Pretend. That's all I need. I'll look forward to sleeping because then I can dream that something might actually spark from our friendship.
And maybe that's all I'll ever do. I'll wait for you to realize that I'm right in front of you waiting, although something inside my ribs kicks, afraid that day may never come. And even if that day does come, what will I say or do or think?
Now I'm just rambling and making myself sick. But it doesn't really matter, since you'll never read this anyways.
"But he did read it!" Ally took the papers and shoved them in front of her face.
"I knew it was familiar!" Austin voiced enthusiastically from his bedroom doorway. Ally slowly slid out of the desk chair, as if she was melting, and rolled underneath his desk. Trish stood awkwardly, smiling and nodding.
"I think I can hear my mom calling me, okay bye!" Trish quickly jumped out the window, forgetting her shoes and missing the branch. "Oops."
"Oh my God, I hope she's okay," Austin commented, looking out the window as Trish got up and ran away. He walked to his bed and sat down as he bent to look under his desk. "What are you doing?" he chuckled out.
"Willing myself to die."
"I knew that letter smelled familiar. It was the Ally smell."
"Great, now I smell too."
"Like Christmas." Austin now was making his way to sitting just beside the desk. It seemed eerily familiar, like the night of Trish's quinceañera. "So you did write these?"
"Yes."