Suggested Cade; Catorade friendship


The Way We Are

By xHeSaidSheSaidx

There were several things one could say they didn't really understand about you. One was the world you had created for yourself that you seemed to escape to whenever something went wrong, whether it was a poor grade on a test or the passing of your favorite actress. But your world also existed when you were joyful. You would speak of instances where your brother did some pretty weird actions, and when you told your stories they often didn't make too much sense, but you would giggle in delight to yourself anyways; the confused looks we exchanged amongst ourselves whenever you spoke didn't matter.

But if there was one thing that was the hardest thing for me and the rest of us to understand, it was the deep care you had for her.

Don't get me wrong. I understand that care is an essential part of friendship. It was the fact that you chose to implement her into your friendship circle that perplexed us all. I say us because I didn't get it at first. It was incomprehensible to me. I was the late bloomer of course; the new kid, the odd one out. The one with the least amount of knowledge of anything that went on in the school. By the time I arrived, you had already been close with her for a year. But much like with her, you were quick to welcome me into your life. You were just that kind of person. She wasn't.

It took me months to really understand the connection between you and her thanks to the talks me and you used to have, and even now, though you're gone, I still find myself learning new things about it every day.

You weren't intimidated by her like everyone else. Matter of fact, it was almost like you saw her as a reflection of yourself even though to the naked eye the two of you couldn't appear to be more opposite. While people were avoiding her, choked by their own fear, they asked you what you saw in her as a person and you told them that we don't see things the way they are; we see things the way we are, so the only people who judged her, were the ones that should be judging themselves.

I asked you one day what in the world you even meant by your statement, and that was the day that I realized that there was a lot more to you than people gave you credit for. Whether you learned your complexity from her or someone else I'll never be sure, all I know is on that day when you gave me your first deeply thought out answer, I wanted to know more.

You told me that it's bad to not like someone based on what you hear about them not because it's mean, but because it shows what we really think of ourselves as individuals. "If you're going to call someone the B word for no reason, the true B word is you" you said. "If you look past someone's flaws and see them as a good person, that makes you a good person."

Your logic was simple enough; nothing I hadn't really heard before. It was the way you had packed those ideas into your overall statement: "We don't see things the way they are. We see them the way WE are."

I still wasn't entirely sure how that really related to your connection with her, but I understood it more the more time you spent discussing certain parts of it.

I remember the story of how you two met, mostly because when you told me, you had this certain glow about your face that proved that just talking about your first experiences with simply knowing her brought you delight.

You were walking home one night from a late final dress rehearsal for a play you were starring in the next day, when a car stopped you.

When that strange old man pulled over to ask if you needed a ride with a crooked smile showing yellow teeth, you panicked, but you played it surprisingly safe. You told him no thank you; that you were already home, and began your march up the nearest random set of porch steps just so he'd go away. You told me you were hoping he'd drive off before you actually had to knock on the front door itself, pretending you'd forgotten your house key, but there was no such luck. It wasn't until after you rang the doorbell of the house whose occupants you had no idea and the door was swung open that he finally left.

"It was her mom that answered the door," you told me. "But all I saw at first was a nice enough looking lady, but she was on her way out the door and looked like she was in a hurry so she just ushered me inside and then left, talking on her cell phone."

She was a busy woman. You became so intrigued by her. When she ushered you into her home and left, a girl about your age peered up at you, the stranger in her home, from her spot on the couch. As a matter of fact, you'd seen the girl around before. She was in your first period class at school.

After staring at you confusedly for a moment, she asked you unwelcomingly what you were doing there. The way you described the confrontation to me, she seemed unfriendly to you, which I could've expected, but it seemed like she at least knew who you were as well. I think it was that point when you began to relax a little; at least you hadn't stepped foot into an even creepier persons home than that old man who offered you a ride. You may not have known the girl well, but you were just relieved to see a familiar face. That woman, who had rushed out the door in her business attire and her phone in hand, turned out to be her mother.

You found out later that her mother assumed you were her daughter's friend, and that's why she let you in without question. That and she was in a hurry. You answered the girl's question by briefly explaining the truth of why you showed up at her door, and her response was "so if I see some old rapist hanging around my house in the future, I know I'll have you to blame."

You hadn't thought of that in the middle of your panic when you'd made your rash decision to pretend her house was yours just to throw off the old man. You felt terrible upon the realization that she could have a point, and the house seemed eerily silent and unoccupied since the woman that answered the door had left; much different from the loud, active home of your own you were so used to, largely thanks to your hyperactive brother.

Your friendly instincts kicked into gear then. You took a seat on the couch opposite her and began asking her questions about her life. Interest was the last thing she expressed in you, but that didn't stop you from making light hearted conversation.

You walked into her house that night only knowing her name, having heard your first period teacher address her by it. You left her house that night about half an hour later knowing her name and one other thing you'd managed to get out of her somewhere in the middle of the conversation you'd attempted to get going. Her mom was a talent scout; she was rushing off that day to a college performance she'd been invited to. You tried to get more responses out of her about her mother's line of work but her responses to anything you asked were short and choppy; 7 words at most. She wanted you gone, you could tell. She wasn't comfortable with you being there, and while a part of didn't understand why she was being standoffish with you, another part couldn't blame her. You were a random stranger in her home after all.

You left her house with every intention to just go about your own life from then on and let her go about hers, but not before turning around when you reached the front door and asking her if she was planning on going to the play the following night at school. You didn't tell her you were starring in it, but posters had been up promoting it for the last month, so maybe she already knew.

You waited for her response but she did nothing more than turn up the volume on her television without a glance back at you. The last thing her lack of a response did was faze you.

"Well, you should come," you told her. I could almost hear the smile in your voice when you told me the story of that day.

She still said nothing, so you thanked her for her time and left, jogging the rest of the way home as quickly as possible in hopes of avoiding another encounter with any other strange men driving the streets of Hollywood Heights.

The night of your play, you looked out into your applauding audience after the final scene wrapped up and it was time for the curtain call. For a split second, you swore you saw a flash her brown hair in one of the middle rows. You strained your eyes to get a better look, but as quick as you thought you saw the flash, it was gone, lost in the sea of your audience.

"That night changed my life," you told me, beaming in the moment as you reminisced. After the curtain call, you were greeted by your own parents backstage along with celebratory hugs from your cast mates and even a bouquet of roses that had been thrust randomly into your palm between hugs.

It wasn't the dozens of "great job's!" or "I'm so proud of you's!" that changed your life. It wasn't even the triple scoop ice cream cone your parents took you out for afterwards that did it, or the fact that afterwards you were almost immediately offered a leading role in the next school production.

It happened when you were in your dressing room, perched in front of your mirror, removing the fake eyelashes that your costume had required for your part. The sudden knock on the door made your heart jump in surprise, but you were quick to leap off your chair and answer it. You recognized the woman immediately, though you'd only seen her for five seconds if that the previous day. She stuck her hand out to you and greeted you by name, introducing herself as Susan. She asked you if you had a few minutes.

You nodded, remembering from your attempted chat with her daughter that she was a talent scout.

A few minutes soon turned into half an hour, then 45 minutes, and before either of you knew it, you spent almost an hour talking to her about your performance that evening, her line of work, and the thing that stuck out to you the most that evening; her daughter. Your parents came knocking on your dressing room door a couple of times, asking if you were almost ready to go, and you somehow managed to casually shrug them off each time.

Susan told you that she was a talent scout indeed, and she did a lot of her work at college and high school performances. She told you that although she was impressed with your performance that evening, she was really more interested in your visit to her house the previous day.

"I came home last night and the first thing my daughter asked me was why I let you into my house," she told you with a light laugh. "The truth is, I didn't really think about it. I just thought you were one of her friends from school. I was in such a rush that it didn't even really strike me until later that she… doesn't really have too many friends. But she told me what happened, why you were there. Did you tell your parents about it?"

You shook your head in response to her question, explaining that you didn't want to worry them because then, they might not let you walk places ever again because of the creepy old man. And you loved walking. Aside from singing and performing, your other passion was being outside, just spending time in the sunlight. You loved your walks too much to risk getting them taken away from you.

"Well," Susan said to you that night, "since I am a talent scout, I was sitting next to your principal in the audience tonight. He told me you participate in the school a lot. You're a busy girl, well liked and… truth be told, you're the only person that's willingly tried to hold a conversation with my daughter in the longest time."

"She's nice," you told the woman, not knowing at first if you really meant it or if you were just saying it out of politeness and respect for her and her daughter. It wasn't like at the time you really knew too much about her daughter to really have a judgment though. She hadn't given you too many responses the night before. Susan gave you an awkward smile, as if she wondered whether or not she should believe it.

"Did she come to the play tonight?" you wondered next. That was when things got really interesting, you recalled to me. Susan told you that the girl showed up during the final act, but disappeared at curtain call. You smiled. So you were right; you had seen her there.

"I asked her what you talked about after I left besides the reason you showed up. She probably wouldn't want me to tell you this, but I could tell she was trying to act nonchalant about you being there and telling her to come to the play, but I saw something different in her. I think she was trying to hide the fact that she was glad to have you there."

At that point in the conversation, you weren't sure what to say. The girl didn't seem too ecstatic to have you in her house, not like that had put you off or anything. You were always ready to see the good in people, take them in as your friend. That was something even I noticed in you in the way you acted towards me my first day at Hollywood Arts. You were always so welcoming, and I think that was something you were just naturally doing that day with her without even realizing it at first yourself.

You let Susan continue, and before long, you knew exactly what she was getting at. She wanted you to be her daughter's friend. You could see it in her eyes; the concern she had for her. The eyes that were similar in color and shape to hers that you had noticed when she sat on the couch with her eyes trained on the TV screen. Susan just wanted her daughter to be happy, she just thought she needed a friend, but she knew she would never go out and make the effort herself, and there you were, so friendly and welcoming, and you'd actually set foot in her house and tried to make conversation with the girl on your own. You were the perfect candidate.

She didn't bribe you with potential fame or offer another incentive. I know you wouldn't have accepted anyways. You knew friendship couldn't come with a price. But you found yourself smiling again at Susan; the simple thought of making a new friend made you happy. You loved making new friends. The realization that the girl probably didn't have any for a reason never once struck your mind. You were just warmed at the thought of making someone else happy.

Your task began the next day. You had noticed before that the girl was often late to first period, so you waited outside your classroom door. People filed past you into the room. Some said good morning. Some asked why you were standing there. All of them people you considered as friends.

By 7:44, you were still there, fidgeting. You were two minutes away of being late to class, which rarely ever happened for you. At 7:45, there she was. She spotted you as she approached, ducking her head the moment she saw you in attempt to get by you without having to converse. You remembered what her mom said about how she often seemed to mask her gladness, so you didn't let her by. You slid in front of the door, blocking her way.

"Hi!" you greeted her. She blinked at you, crossing her arms and shifting her bag on her shoulder.

"Move."

You knew she wasn't going to give up the uninterested act anytime soon. But you also realized the possibility that maybe it wasn't an act after all; maybe her mom was totally wrong, and she honestly had zero interest in pursuing any kind of possible friendship with you or anyone else and she really did want to be left alone. But something kept you from giving up that easily. How could someone be okay with not having a friend? You wanted to know.

"Well, um. I was just thinking, maybe you'd like to come with me after school to that place across the street and get an ice cream. I need someone to walk with."

The bell rang and you flinched, but remained standing in place. Ah well. You were already late, and she didn't seem to care. She was too busy knitting her brows at you.

"So ask someone else," she told you flatly. You responded by saying you thought she should come with you, but she still didn't seem to be on board for making your task easy.

"I don't even know you."

"Yeah you do silly; you're in my class, and I was at your house the other day!"

Humor was always your way of trying to make things less awkward.

She was silent for a moment, pondering your statement. Finally, she spoke again.

"If I say yes, will you get out of my way?"

That was her way of accepting your invitation in a way that didn't appear too ecstatic, you told me. I believed you, because after a while, though I still haven't gotten to know her nearly as well as you ended up doing, it was obvious to me how much she cared about you, just from my own perspective, and based on everything you told me, she seemed to actually enjoy your company from the start.

You smiled at her. "Of course. Let's meet at the front entrance?"

"….Fine."

When you slid out of her way and she pushed the door open to step inside, it was the first time you experienced the strange looks that often became thrown your way the more you started hanging out with her. You entered the class right behind her, and even though you took your individual seats on opposite sides of the room, it was apparently obvious to the class that the two of you were late because of each other, especially when the teacher asked you why you were late. He probably didn't ask her because he was used to her being late all the time, but for you it was a new instance.

"We were talking," you had told him.

"You and who?"

"Me and Jade."

You didn't even notice the surprised and slightly disturbed glances that were thrown your way and her way until she told you about them later.

You looked for her that day at lunch, but she was nowhere to be found. Your friend Robbie, who later became mine as well, curiously asked why you were talking to her before class that morning.

"Because she's my friend," you told him with a smile. His eyes widened behind his thick framed glasses.

"Since when?"

You smiled again, having no shame. "Today, she will be."

School ended at 2:15, and by 2:20 sharp you were waiting for her at the front entrance, just like you'd said. Some people stopped to talk to you, and you got so caught up in conversation that you didn't even notice that ten minutes had passed and she still hadn't showed up. You waited another 20 minutes before realizing she probably wasn't going to show up at all. You decided then that maybe she had already went across the street and was waiting for you at the ice cream shop, so without giving up hope completely, you headed over there yourself.

When she wasn't there either, you thought about walking over to her house to see what was up. You had to pass by it on your way home after all, and you were pretty sure you could remember what house was hers, but after arguing with yourself for a minute, you decided against it. Maybe something really important had come up and she had to be somewhere else after school, and if that was the case, than she probably wasn't even home, you figured.

You began your slow walk home without getting any ice cream. Your appetite was lost. The sun was shining higher than it ever had before and you even stopped along the way to watch a happy bird make its nest in a tree, but a part of you couldn't help but feel let down. You'd actually been looking forward to hanging out with her after school, but she hadn't shown up.

When you turned on her street, you had every intention to walk by it without a passing glance. You figured you would just ask her the next day in first period what was up, but you halted in your footsteps for a split second when you saw her standing at her mailbox, collecting the mail. It seemed to you like she'd already been home for a while; she was wearing black sweats and a black t-shirt so she had changed out of her school clothes already. You examined your own outfit then, taking note of the significant differences in your attires; you were all about flowers and prints and bright pinks, while she had always been about blacks and dark blues and purples but that was the first moment you'd really noticed it.

You stopped in front of her driveway. Her back was to you as she rifled through the pile of mail, so you cleared your throat loudly for her to hear to make your presence known. She turned around and looked at you casually, like she wasn't even surprised to see you standing there staring at her in bewilderment. You waited for her to talk, but she said nothing, leaving you with no choice but to break the silence.

"Did you… forget?" You asked her.

"What?" she blinked as if she had no clue what you were talking about before realization apparently struck her. "Oh. Ice cream."

When you told me this story, I know you had a feeling even then that she had just been pretending she'd forgotten when in reality, even I can say that it was probably all she'd been thinking about that day at school. You never could get her to admit it though. According to her, she really did just forget by accident. But you knew and I know that in reality, she probably just… chickened out of it, maybe thinking she almost expected you to stand her up and she was trying to make some kind of point by beating you to it. At the same time, you knew you couldn't blame her for that logic. You had so many friends; it would make sense if she thought you were just asking her to hang out with you to make fun of her if she actually showed up and you didn't. But regardless of what she thought, you were the one that had been stood up that day, and I could tell when you recalled the day to me that even though you barely knew her at the time, it really did hurt your feelings, since you had actually been looking forward to it.

"You know, I waited for you for a while…" You told her, and that was the point when you realized she had blown you off on purpose, because of the look of shock you said crossed her face for a brief moment at your sincerity before covering it up with a quick "well, I forgot" and no apology.

And for some reason, it still didn't stop you from trying again.

"Well, we can go right now. Or tomorrow if you want."

I know you were hoping that she would go with you right then and there, fearful that if you waited until the next day she might blow you off again, and luckily for you, she complied.

"Fine. Be right back."

You waited for five minutes in her driveway for her to change back into her school clothes before the two of you were off and you were internally thankful that you had decided to not get ice cream after school without her. Your appetite was back.

The ten minute walk back to the ice cream shop was mostly spent with you being the one trying to start up a conversation again, which didn't really surprise you. You were expecting her to be a hard shell to crack, but for whatever reason, you knew from that moment you were willing to try for as long as it took, and it had nothing at all to do with pleasing her mother.

That day marked the start of something that would later become unbreakable; not even when you left. You're gone, but you're here. I see your reflection in her everyday.


A/N: There is a part II to this, where it explains why the story is written this way. It would be a oneshot, but due to length, it's being broken up. Also, this doesn't really follow the exact episode line up of the show. It's kind of AU. This story was inspired by a quote from Talmud; "we don't see things the way they are, we see things the way we are."

Review if you would like to see more.