"Let me up!" he screeched in her ears, his voice wavering with the ambiguity of being between squeaky little boy and deepening, growing teenager.
"Not until you promise not to tell!" she squealed back, her fingers like a vice on his struggling arms, his legs kicking beneath her spread ones. She dug her nails into the sensitive skin along his wrists, and he groaned and went limp beneath her.
She sighed and released him, rolling her weight from her knees back onto her heels and allowing him to prop himself up by his elbows. "We'll just have to come up with another way to fix this," she said quietly, casting her eyes downward and then gazing at him through her eyelashes.
The effect of her lovely brown eyes staring into his own through the curtain of her delicately curled lashes was a bit much. He swallowed hard as he felt that familiar dry sensation between his teeth. But it wasn't as though he would ever, or could ever, do anything about it if he wanted those lovely brown eyes to stay in his life. So he moved his glance to the ceiling and thought for a moment.
"Maybe if there was just a way I could get into the school's system…" he trailed off.
She tilted her head thoughtfully, causing a piece of hair to slide forward over her shoulder and dangle dangerously close to his face. He stiffened. He wasn't sure if she noticed – she had chosen that moment to gently climb off of him and sit next to him on the rug, her knees drawn up to her chest. He sat up too, crossing his legs, and looked into her dejected face.
"What are we going to do?" she muttered, burying her face in her knees. Freddie dug at his memory, trying for the life of him to figure out if he knew how to do anything that could fix their problem. Anything to get that look off of that girl's face. The answer came to him quickly, almost as though he had known it all along. A cold, frenzied type of electricity flooded him as he spoke.
"I know! If I can get to the t5 hookup in the computer lab and copy the system's information, I can just do it on my laptop!"
Carly raised her head and looked at him, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto her lips. "Then we can change our grades back without telling on Sam! Yes! Are you sure you can do it?"
"Sure, no problem," he replied, smiling back, the cold electricity in his blood warming into pure happiness as he realized he had the power to put a smile, however small, on Carly's face. "I'll just need you to create a distraction tomorrow during class and then I can go and get all the information."
Her face showed nothing put pure relief as she finally unraveled herself from the fetal position on the floor, stretched a bit, and got up and walked into the kitchen.
"Want some juice?" she called to him over her shoulder as she opened the fridge and peered inside.
Freddie remained cross-legged on the floor, unable to keep from staring at the interesting little designs made of pink thread on the back pockets of her jeans. He immediately dropped his gaze to the carpet and began to run his fingers through it absently.
"I, um…yeah. Juice would be nice, thanks." His tongue had gone dry again.
Freddie's hands kept clenching tightly and then unclenching – it was an unpleasant sensation and his knuckles had already gone white, but it seemed he was powerless to stop them from doing this. He glanced over at the girl perched next to him, their chairs shoved as close together as two chairs could be without merging into a single object. She had her head down, a curtain of silky brown hair shielding her face from his view. But her shoulder appeared to be shaking, and he noticed her hands doing the same thing his were doing. He thought about maybe reaching over, laying one of his hands on her arm or something in a comforting sort of way, but he examined his white, shaking hands again and decided against it.
"You two," said one of the men in the CSA uniforms unkindly, pointing a large finger in his and Carly's direction. "Come over here, please."
Freddie glanced over at Carly again, then pushed himself off of the chair and took a few steps toward the CSA men and his school principal. Carly kept closer to him than she ordinarily would have as they crossed the room, and despite the seriousness of the situation, he felt a twinge of happiness that she trusted him to protect her, however subconsciously.
"Carly, Freddie," Principal Franklin addressed them, sounding confused but at least kinder than the CSA officials, "These men seem to think the two of you hacked into the school's computer system this afternoon. Do you have anything to tell us?"
Freddie looked sideways. Carly was playing with the hem of her t-shirt, her mouth twisting into a thoughtful frown. "We did," he said quietly, "but it wasn't what you think. It was…uh…" he trailed off, unable to think of an excuse that did not get either him, Carly, or Sam into serious trouble.
"We heard it was your birthday!" Carly blurted out frantically, looking at Principal Franklin.
"Um, yeah," Freddie continued. "We hacked into the school's network just so we could make sure. So…so we could get you a birthday present!"
"Yeah!" Carly screeched, her expression relaxing slightly as she realized they had a hope of getting out of their predicament sans Juvenile Detention.
"Aw, you guys! See, I told you they wouldn't be up to anything mischievous," Principal Franklin turned to tell the CSA officials, who shrugged.
The Principal turned back to Carly and Freddie. "So, where is it?" he smiled.
Freddie froze. "W-what?" he stammered.
"Where's my present? You said you had something for me," Principal Franklin said.
"Oh! Y-yeah! One second," Carly said, grabbing Freddie by the wrist and dragging him into the kitchen.
"Why'd you tell him we got him a present?" she whispered angrily, her hair whipping her face as she spun to face him.
"I don't know! Because you brought up the birthday thing!" he whispered back frantically, his wrist beginning to ache from her rigor mortis grip.
She groaned and began to pace through the kitchen, sorting through drawers, searching for something to give Principal Franklin. He followed suit, his eyes swiveling around the room and finally coming to rest on the bright red microwave oven sitting on the counter. He ran to it and groped the back for the wire.
Carly was right behind him. She ducked under the counter and tugged the plug out of the outlet. She thrust the microwave into Freddie's arms, grabbed a red bow from a nearby drawer, and pulled him back into the living room. He staggered behind her under the weight of the microwave.
"Surprise!" they shouted simultaneously, cheesy smiles plastered across their exasperated faces.
The auditorium lights dimmed, and as usual, Freddie was hyperaware of the girl sitting to his left in the darkness. The one to his right was already chewing on a turkey leg, a bit of skin dangling attractively between her teeth.
"Sam," he groaned, "really?"
Her foot came up and whacked him in the back of his right leg, and he stifled his outburst and instead settled for an expressive "Mmuh." The girl to his left giggled.
He slouched back in his chair and planted his feet, spreading his legs and getting comfortable. Assembly today was a filmstrip about the evolution of the word "respect" and how one could practice the idea on a daily basis. He wasn't particularly interested, and he thought maybe he could doze off for a few minutes if he could get even remotely comfortable in the spongy, scratchy auditorium seats.
His mind flitted in and out of focus, hovering somewhere between consciousness and daydreams, as his eyes stared blankly at the screen without really seeing anything. He was jolted back to reality when he felt a cold hand close gently around his left arm. Freddie looked at it for a moment, and then looked up at its owner. Her eyes bored into his with a kind of emotional intensity he had never seen before, unless he counted his mother when she was really upset with him. But this wasn't really like that – Carly's expression made him want to melt into a puddle of bliss, not cower in a corner.
"You went to Principal Franklin's office to take the heat for us," she whispered. She was close enough that he could feel her breath warm his skin. It wasn't a question.
"So did you," he whispered back.
She was quiet for a moment, her chilly fingers tapping against his arm playfully.
"Freddie," she said seriously, "Thanks for always being there for me. You know, as a friend." She stopped, but he sensed there was more. He waited quietly for her to continue.
"I have Sam, and I love her, but sometimes she can just be a little insensitive," Carly whispered.
"No!" Freddie gasped in mock astonishment, the two of them chuckling quietly as they glanced at the blond friend in question. She had fallen asleep, her mouth lolling open, a half-eaten turkey leg in her hand. Freddie smiled at the comfortingly predictable sight and turned back to Carly.
"I guess I'm just trying to say thanks," Carly continued, no longer meeting his eyes. "Not just for this time, but for all the times. I don't know what I would do without you as one of my best friends, Freddie. I'd probably go crazy."
He felt his heart flutter at her words, but for once, for the right reasons. He watched as she smiled a little at embarrassment at her random sappiness, and she began to pick at the threads in her jeans with her free hand. She left her right hand on his arm, waiting for him to reply.
And suddenly he understood. He loved Carly - he'd probably always love Carly, and that was just something they'd both have to deal with. But he sat here, mouth dry, senses tingling, heart under siege, and allowed their friendship to continue as usual without pushing his boundaries because he needed it. He needed their pure, uncomplicated friendship in his life so much that he'd ignore everything her mere presence did to his body just to keep it going. And she went through every day knowing he loved her and would give anything for her to be with him, but trusting him not to. Because his friendship meant that much to her. His brain seemed to release an audible "click" as he registered all this and then turned to face her again.
"Thank you," he whispered, "for trusting me. And for letting me be your best friend. I don't know what I'd do without you, Carly."
Her smile widened at his whispered words, and she stopped picking at her clothes and laid both hands on his arm.
"Do you mind?" she asked self-consciously. "You're really warm."
He laughed, a little louder than he probably should have.
"Go for it," he whispered, and he turned again to face the screen as his mouth went dry and his best friend Carly tapped rhythms onto his skin with her cold fingers.
