The town was quite busy that afternoon. As busy as it could get anyway; when it came to noise and excitement, the place was hardly New York City. Violet wanted more. She wanted to see bright lights, luminous signs, shiny new cars, new faces…especially new faces. Life in town bored her. It had always bored her. Same thing with the people in the town. She was tired of seeing the same people, talking to the same people, living with the same people.

Violet wanted change.

She wanted what the people she saw on TV had. A cool apartment, expensive clothes, things to do.

There was never anything to do in this place.

She was ranting about this now, while the sun shone on her slowly melting strawberry flavored ice-cream cone.

"I can't wait for high school to be over. Then I can get out of here and actually start living!" she confessed.

"You're breathing, aren't you? Then you are living as far as I'm concerned," snapped Lucy.

The others ignored her, as they usually did when Lucy was having 'one of her days'.

"Well, only a few months to go, Vi. Then we'll be free!" grinned Patty, leaning back against the plastic chair, savoring the vanilla ice-cream melting in her mouth.

Violet smiled. She couldn't wait to begin university. Especially since she was starting university in New York, of all places. She loved New York. She had been there a few times as a kid, and every time they came back she would beg her father to go back the following weekend. Seeing how much his daughter loved the city, he had made arrangements for her to study there.

Violet had been ecstatic.

Persuading Patty to accompany her had been easy; persuading Patty's parents, not so much. They had given in in the end, but only if Patty got a job and earned at least some of the money herself.

"You have to work for it," her father had said. "Violet might be used to getting everything she wants, but I don't believe in spoiling a kid. I'll pay whatever's needed to make up the cost at the end, but I want you to earn as much as you can."

As a result, Patty was now babysitting.

She hated babysitting.

She had never been particularly good with children, and now, having to spend practically every day with them, they drove her round the bend.

"I wish I had another job, though. Those kids kill me," she sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically.

"Oh, I'm sure you could get an easier job, Patty. Curling Frieda's hair, for instance," replied Lucy smoothly. Frieda didn't get angry; she never did. It was one of the many annoying things about her. She just smiled sympathetically at Lucy, reaching over to pat her on the shoulder.

"Poor Lucy. Having a bad day again. Is it Schroeder?"

Lucy gritted her teeth, trying to control her temper.

"No, it is not Schroeder, and please remove your hand from my shoulder."

Frieda sighed again, that stupid sympathetic little sigh she reserved for everyone, especially Lucy.

"Boys, huh? It's such a shame the blockhead doesn't pay you attention. I guess it's not that easy when you don't have naturally curly hair," said Frieda thoughtfully, patting her shiny, perfect reddish brown ringlets.

Lucy gritted her teeth even harder. It had been a mistake coming with them to the ice-cream shop; she could see that now. She had just really wanted ice-cream. God, that sounded greedy, even in her head. She had always had a weakness for ice-cream. She also thought that maybe hanging out with her girlfriends might cheer her up.

Ha.

"Don't use that word, it's mine," snapped Lucy. Nobody got to call Schroeder a blockhead except for her. She scooped up the last bit of what was left of her ice-cream and shoved it in her mouth. Then she stood up and picked up her jacket.

"Well, I have to go. See you later!" she announced.

"What, already? Where are you going?" protested Patty, frowning.

"None of your beeswax" snapped Lucy, turning around and marching away before they could say anything else. She couldn't help overhearing, however, Violet's remark: "Where do you think she's going?" and Frieda's sighed answer: "Love can be such a complicated thing when you don't have naturally curly hair."

Lucy walked on, ignoring the strong urge to turn back and punch each of them in the face. They were right, of course. She was going over to Schroeder's. She couldn't see why she shouldn't; he showed no interest in anyone ever, so what was the harm in being a bit persuasive? Even if he didn't pay her the slightest attention, it was still fun to annoy him. Also, she had the feeling that while Schroeder might pretend that he didn't want her or anyone else around, he secretly liked having her round. What with his dedication to his music, he hardly ever socialized with anyone after school. That had to get boring sometimes.

She walked right up to his front door and rang the doorbell. Inside the small brick house, Schroeder was playing Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata". His eyes were closed as he played, his mind and soul completely immersed in the music. He didn't need sheet music; he knew most of Beethoven's works by heart. In his mind, nobody was more of a genius than Beethoven; his music just touched his soul in a way nothing else ever did. He was so absorbed in what he was playing that when the doorbell rang, he half jumped out of his skin. He heard the familiar footsteps and groaned.

Lucy.

Surely enough, a second later, the girl walked into the living room, a huge grin on her face.

"Hey there, Schroeder!" said Lucy brightly, throwing her jacket on the sofa and flinging herself down on top of it, sprawling comfortably. Schroeder sighed, half in exasperation, half in amusement. Ever since he had known her, Lucy had treated his house as if it were her own. She probably treated his house even more like her home than her actual place. This was the way it usually went every day. Lucy would ring the doorbell, come in, and sprawl herself on the sofa while Schroeder practiced his various instruments.

"Well, isn't this a surprise," muttered Schroeder, playing a few loose chords.

"Isn't it though?" replied Lucy cheerfully, helping herself to a bag of crisps that was lying on the coffee table beside her.

"I still don't understand why you even bother to ring the doorbell," said Schroeder, beginning to play "Moonlight Sonata" over again.

"It's like a warning I'm here. You know, just in case you're not mentally prepared for such beauty as mine," replied Lucy casually, munching a crisp.

Schroeder snorted, shaking his head.

"You're in a good mood. What was all that in the cafeteria about at lunchtime?"

Lucy frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, you were shouting something about Roosevelt…"

"Oh, that. Stupid school. Can't even make forks properly. Of course, it's all Frieda's fault really. The fork never would have broken if it wasn't for her."

Schroeder frowned slightly, feeling extremely confused. Then again, Lucy was always extremely confusing.

"So what shall we do this Friday night?" asked Lucy, throwing her hands behind her head. Schroeder rolled his eyes. It seemed like the girl would never give up. She had stopped making remarks about 'when we're married' like she used to do when they were little, but she still insinuated there was something between them. All the time.

And there wasn't.

Not at all.

Schroeder had no time for girlfriends; he barely had time for friends, for crying out loud. He only had one goal in mind: to win a scholarship to get into Juilliard school. It was a very, very select place, and it had been his dream to enter ever since he could remember.

"I don't know what you'll be doing. I'll be practicing Brahms' first symphony," he replied curtly, closing his eyes as he played.

"Shame your dad's not like Violet's. Then you wouldn't have to get a scholarship." Lucy replied scathingly. "I've never met anyone as spoilt as she is. It's ridiculous."

Schroeder frowned.

"I thought you two were friends."

"We are," Lucy replied in a surprised tone. Schroeder shrugged and decided not to dwell on it. Girls were complicated when it came to friendships.

"She just drives me crazy sometimes. Same with Patty and Frieda. We were just having ice-cream before I came here. They were lucky I didn't rip their heads off," she went on conversationally.

Silence.

"They're still there. Probably talking about clothes or something. They can be so superficial sometimes. All the problems in the world and all they can think of is clothes and boys."

Silence.

"Not that I don't like boys. I like you."

Silence.

"Do you like girls, Schroeder?"

Schroeder sighed again. Lucy could be so darn annoying at times.

All the time, really.

"Not as much as I like Beethoven's ninth symphony" he replied dryly.

"But you like girls?"

"Yes."

Silence.

"Schroeder?"

"What?"

His voice was starting to show irritation.

"I'm a girl."

Schroeder snorted slightly.

"Really. I hadn't noticed," he replied sarcastically, trying to concentrate on the music.

"Do you like me?"

Schroeder was silent again for a few seconds. Then, he replied "As far as girls go, you're all right."

Lucy looked up at him, an amused grin on her face.

"See, I knew you love me," she joked, staring coyly at him.

"Oh, shut it," snapped Schroeder, slamming down the last chord and stomping to the kitchen. He could hear Lucy's laughter all the way down the hall.

Back at the ice-cream place, there wasn't much laughter as Patty complained about her job.

"I hate babysitting. The other day that little brat Mandy actually ripped my favorite jacket with a pair of kitchen scissors."

Frieda frowned. "What was she doing with scissors?"

"I gave them to her to play with. I gave her some paper so she could cut that. I went to the bathroom, for a few seconds and when I came back the stupid little idiot had cut my jacket to shreds."

"Giving a kid scissors. Now that's what I call good care," said a male voice behind them. They turned around to see Pig-pen, looking as messy as ever, the same big, friendly grin on his face he always had.

"Well, at least she wasn't rolling around in a mud puddle like some people I know who used to do that when they were like eight. You might still do that, for all I know," replied Violet scathingly, eying Pig-pen distastefully. He was no longer a walking dirt-track, but he still never quite managed looked exactly clean. It was like he was physically unable to keep himself neat, and so he always looked scruffy and untidy. He looked a vast improvement then when he had been a child, however: now you would no longer think he had been rolling around in a mud puddle; instead, you might think he had been rolling around in a pile of hay. His hair still stood up instead of lying flat, and his clothes always looked rumpled and old, even if he had bought his outfit just the day before.

"Ah, pleasant as always, Violet," he replied, beaming, as he took a seat next to Patty.

"I don't remember asking you to join us, Pig-pen," commented Frieda lazily, patting her curls.

"It's a free country. I can sit where I like. And right now, I want to sit beside this lovely lady," replied Pig-pen, nudging Patty lightly. The lovely lady in question let out a groan.

"Pig-pen, you're such a loser."

"Me? Nah, I'm a winner."

"Pig-pen, you are not a winner."

"Yes, I am, I won a book token in the school raffle."

Patty rolled her eyes.

"I rest my case," she replied.

"It would have been better if you had won a token for a haircut, or free laundry service. You're an absolute mess!" added Frieda, wrinkling her nose.

"Oh well. I may be messy, but at least I'll be well read," said Pig-pen cheerfully.

Frieda rolled her eyes and stood up, fixing her curls. "Well, anyway, I should be going. I'm supposed to meet Shermy. Bye, my darlings!" she announced in her sweet, sugar-coated voice, beaming and blowing a kiss to Patty and Violet.

Patty put her right hand to her mouth, kissed it and waved, smiling, while Violet grinned and answered "bye, hon!", in the same sweet voice Frieda had just used. Then she laughed as she watched her friend patting her curls in the distance.

"Look at her. If there was ever a narcissist, it's her. I'm amazed Shermy puts up with her sometimes," she laughed, rolling her eyes. Patty nodded in agreement, a grin on her face.

"You know, I'll never understand why girls are like that," commented Pig-pen thoughtfully after a few seconds. Patty and Violet frowned.

"Like what?" they asked at the same time.

"You know. Amazingly fake."

Cries of indignation immediately sprung out from the two girls.

"Oh my god that is not true. Why would you think we're fake?"

"That's totally sexist."

"It's the plain truth. You call each other "hon" and "darling" and even "biatch" in a friendly way and say shit like "we'll be friends forever!" or "you're totally like the sister I never had!" and treat each other like you're bosom friends; but once one of you is out of earshot, the criticizing and bitching from the others immediately begins," he replied matter-of-factly.

"That's not true," replied Patty, looking puzzled.

"Are you kidding me? You did it just now! As soon as Frieda couldn't hear you, you began bitching about her."

Violet rolled her eyes.

"Oh, good grief. I was kidding."

"Didn't sound like it."

"Well I was. I love Frieda. She's my friend."

"How can you girls tell the difference between your girlfriends and your enemies? You all criticize each other the same!"

"Oh, please. Like you never criticize any of your friends. Charlie Brown, for instance," scoffed Patty.

"Not behind his back."

"Yeah, right."

"No, we boys tend to tell each other what we think of them to their face. I call Charlie Brown a depressive psycho straight to his face. And he's called me a 'human soil bank' more times than I can count. The difference between girls and boys is that boys aren't fake with each other. We know what the other one thinks of us."

"Bullshit," replied Patty bluntly.

Pig Pen shrugged.

"Believe what you like, it's true."

Patty made a disbelieving noise and rolled her eyes. But she knew very well that he was right. She was fake, and she knew it. But in this world, you had to fake it in order to make it. You couldn't let people see what your thoughts were. You had to be careful around everyone. Even with your friends.

Especially with your friends.

Tell them the stuff they want to hear. Tell them the things they consider to be deep and profound but that in reality, don't even scratch the surface. Have a smile on your face at all times and don't let them know what's really in your brain.

Patty had learned that.

Pig-pen spoke up again after a few moments silence.

"By the way, Patty, there's a job you could have, other than babysitting, that is right under your nose. You'd be out of babysitting in a second if you actually bothered to look somewhere else than down it".

Patty turned her head sharply.

"What job?"

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly tell you. After all, I'm a loser. What do I know about jobs, right?" he asked mockingly, reaching out and dipping his finger into Violet's ice-cream and sticking it in his mouth. "Mmm. Chocolate."

"Ewwww!" cried Violet, clearly revolted. "Pig-pen, you're the most disgusting person ever. Ugh." She jumped up from her chair and shoved the ice-cream cone at him. "I'm not eating that now. I'm out of here. Coming, Patty?

"No, you go."

She needed another job, and she was going to get it out of Pig Pen if she had to torture him.

Violet shrugged and walked off. Patty turned to Pig Pen.

"What job?"

Pig Pen smirked. "Not so high and mighty now, are you? See how fake you are? You need a job, and I know of one, so you turn into a normal human being for a second and treat me nicely," he said in a teasing tone.

"Shut it. Tell me!"

Pig Pen smiled. "Look behind you."

Patty turned to see a sign that read 'We are hiring. Ask for details.'

"Not very observant, are you? I noticed it as soon as I walked in," said Pig Pen, savouring the chocolate ice-cream Violet had shoved at him.

"An ice-cream shop? I don't know…"

"Here I was thinking you'd be happy about it. Now that's what I call ungratefulness," said Pig Pen, pretending to be wounded.

Patty ignored him and frowned. An ice-cream shop. She didn't even want to come here with the girls, let alone work here every day. Too much temptation. She already felt the guilt coming up. She felt disgusted. Couldn't even control herself.

"I guess it's better than babysitting," she shrugged.

Take it, she told herself. It's not like you're going to be eating it if you're serving it. You can always go to the bathroom, anyway…

"I'll go ask. I'll be damned if I'm looking after those little brats again," she said decisively.

"That's the attitude!" grinned Pig Pen.

Patty sighed. Looked like she was getting a new job.


A/N: Hope you enjoyed that chapter. Please review! *rattles cookie tin*