Freddie wiped his sweaty face with the hem of his t-shirt and grimaced, gasping for breath. Attempting a smile at the girl running next to him, he gasped, "Why do we put ourselves through this every week?" She slowed down the treadmill to a walking pace and grinned at him. "So that we can throw it all away on a 600 calorie smoothie afterwards," she answered, breathing hard. Rolling his eyes, he turned off the treadmill. "See you in the parking lot in fifteen," he called, heading for the locker room. "Okay," Carly answered, shaking her hair out of the ponytail holder, and wiping her sweaty neck.

It had been their tradition since junior year. She would pick him up, and they'd drive to the gym, compete to see who could work out the longest and hardest, and then they'd go to the Groovy Smoothie for breakfast. For years, they had tried to convince Sam to join them, but she flat out refused, preferring sleep and a take out smoothie to working out. Other than the occasional weekend when one of them was out of town, they hadn't missed a Saturday. There had been a few awkward weekends when Sam and Freddie first started dating, but they had pushed through it, and now it seemed like the most natural thing to be doing on a Saturday morning.

He settled into the passenger seat and placed his gym bag at his feet as she pulled out of the parking lot, glancing at the threatening sky. "We decided on a date," he began conversationally, a hint of pride in his voice. "Oh, that's great, Freddie! When's the big day?" she asked, looking over at him. "Eyes on the road, Shay," he threatened. When she returned to facing front, rolling her eyes dramatically, he continued, "May 15th. We're still looking for a place, but we both want it to be small. You know, something meaningful and special, but informal, not flashy and extravagant." Carly smiled, but didn't dare look at him. "Oh, no you wouldn't want extravagant," she said, absently missing the would-be sarcastic remark from Sam about his vocabulary. "But that sounds perfect. Aww, I'm so excited. You guys are so cute," she said, pulling into the Groovy Smoothie. Putting the car in park, she tucked her hair behind her ear and turned to look at him. "Sam's a lucky girl, Freddie," she said softly.

T-Bo ran his hands under the freezing water pulsing out of the sink, and wiped them dry on his jeans. The door to the smoothie shop dinged, and he smiled as Carly and Freddie walked in the door. "Sup, guys?" he asked as they made their way to the register. T-Bo had started working at the Groovy Smoothie as a part-time job during high school, and slowly but steadily received promotions as time went on. Currently, he was the store's manager. He had watched the kids of the area grow up, seen the haircuts and braces and glasses and dates and parties, all the while whipping up strawberry splats and blueberry blitzes.

They sat down at their usual table, quietly slurping on their smoothies. Carly sighed and looked out the window. Freddie watched her, concerned. "Carls? What's wrong?" he asked. She turned to face him with a sad smile on her face. "Freddie, I'm so happy for you and Sam. I really, really am. It's just hard, you know? I mean, we dated for a few days when we were fifteen. We've slow danced…we've kissed. And it's not like I'm jealous or anything. Ew. You're like my brother. I just don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you, Freddie," she said, her voice growing louder. "I've already lost Spencer, Gibby's moving out, and I just couldn't lose you too," she finished, standing up and looking away. He stood and grabbed her arm. "Carly. Come on. You haven't been able to get rid of me for, like, twenty years. Do you really think we could stop being friends if we tried?" he asked, reaching towards her. After a slightly noticeable pause, she offered him a shaky smile, and accepted his hug.

Sarah Puckett examined the contents of her refrigerator, yawned hugely, and closed the refrigerator's door without taking anything out. She carefully measured out a tablespoon of instant coffee, dumped it in a coffee mug filled with water, and placed it in the microwave. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed as they climbed down the staircase, and Sarah turned around to see Melanie walking into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a tank top with her hair pulled into her trademark high ponytail. "Good morning, Mum," she said, kissing Sarah on the cheek and selecting a banana from the fruit bowl by the sink. "Morning, honey," Sarah replied, watching her daughter closely. She peeled the skin off of the banana carefully, gathering the pieces in a pile on the countertop and eating it in small nibbles, the same way she'd eaten bananas her whole life. She glanced up at Sarah and smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

With a deep breath, Marissa Benson clicked "send" and blinked rapidly as the message went spinning off into cyberspace. She sat at the computer for a minute, lost in her thoughts, until the phone rang loudly, causing her to jump up guiltily and search for the phone. Clutching the minimum radiation telephone, she frowned at the unknown number, and answered with a breathless, "Hello?" A rich, deep, all-too-familiar voice answered, "Hello, Marissa. It's me, Leonard."

"Leonard?" Marissa repeated, sinking to the floor, resting her back against the wall and pulling her knees to her chest. "I just read the email you sent. Our little Freddie's getting married," he said, his voice sad and longing, but masked with overdone cheerfulness. "Yes. He is," Marissa answered, surprising herself with the coldness in her own voice. She had expected to be an emotional disaster if she ever had to speak with Leonard again, but instead she felt numb. And angry. "Marissa?" he began, in that slow way of his. "Thank you for the email. I certainly didn't expect or deserve any contact from you, but it really means a lot to me. Little Freddie's getting married," he continued. She began to form a response, but he cut her off, saying, "Marissa. I would really, really love to be at this wedding. The last thing I want is to make you or Freddie uncomfortable, especially at such a special time like this. But just promise me you'll think about it, okay? I really want to see my only son get married," he finished, his voice trailing off. "I'll think about it," Marissa said shortly, forcing herself to relax—her shoulders were hunched up by her ears, and her toes were cramping from clutching her shoes so tightly. "That's all I ask," Leonard said, and she could hear the smile on his face as he spoke. "Good bye, Marissa."

She hung up before he did.