It was a Saturday, and Freddie was staring at the ceiling.
"You know what, Sam? I give up. You're impossible."
"I barely even touched you!" Sam protested.
"Look, I'm not just talking about the flip. Or the choke hold. Or the handstands--"
"Headstand."
Freddie snorted. "More like you dropping me on my head than me standing."
Sam pursed her lips in disapproval. "Are you gonna lie on Carly's kitchen's floor all day, Benson?"
"I'll move when I feel like moving," Freddie said decisively.
Sam rolled her eyes and went over the fridge, grabbing whatever frozen thing was on top of the freezer stack, and threw it on him. "There."
Freddie looked at the bag, dripping sticky red juice down the sides, and decided to try it anyway. "Thanks?"
Sam flopped down on the floor beside him and grabbed a handful of berries from the bag resting on his shoulder, munching contentedly.
The ceiling had blue spots on it. They weren't quite sure why.
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