Yield

(verb)

Surrender or give up

EX: It was hard for the boy to yield his darkest secret to the girl he loved.

…

Thursday

…

I let my head fall over the couch seat, staring at Freddie as he did homework.

"Why are you standing on the ceiling, Fredderly?"

"Wha-" Freddie turned and saw me hanging upside-down on his living room couch.

"Oh. Well, gravity doesn't affect my body anymore and I can't remember how to get down. Why is your hair standing straight up?"

I smiled and rolled onto the floor.

"Why isn't yours?"

He laughed and turned back to his homework.

I groaned and jumped up.

"Freddie", I whined, "when can we do something FUN? I'm tired of sitting here studying all the time!"

He raised an eyebrow, "First of all, you're lucky I even let you in here. My mom hates you, and she'd kill me if she knew you were here. Second of all, you haven't done any studying. You've just been sitting here watching ME do homework."

"Well that's boring. Come on, Fred! Where's your sense of adventure? We've still got over a week of suspension for you to do homework. Can't we go somewhere interesting?"

Freddie sighed and sat on a kitchen barstool. He glanced at the blinking numbers on the stove and looked up reluctantly.

"Fine. But it's MY turn to decide what we do. Get in the car."

…

"FREDDIE!"

Freddie jerked the wheel, "WHAT?"

"I'm bored."

He glared at me, then returned his eyes to the road.

"When I said I wanted to do something, I didn't mean driving for three hours straight."

"It's only been two and a half hours and we'll be there in less than 15 minutes."

I huffed and slid down in my seat grouchily.

"This is not how I imagined spending my Friday."

Freddie smiled as he noticed a sign with cities and miles printed on it.

I glanced at it and read off the top one.

"Portland? We're going to Portland?"

He only smiled and took the next exit.

When we pulled into town, he slowed down to a measly 15 miles per hour.

"Why in the hell are you slowing down so much, Benson? You're wearing on my last nerve."

"Parking is hard to find here."

I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes, leaning back in defeat.

"Wake me up when we get somewhere."

…

Fifteen minutes later, Freddie managed to find a parking slot in downtown Portland near the river. Or maybe it was a lake. Who cares?

Freddie took me by the hand and led me around a bend to one of the pay-by-the-hour parking lots.

"Alright, Fredwad. Why are we here?"

In answer, he gestured toward a wall behind my head. I turned around and came face to face with bold letters staining the wall: "KEEP PORTLAND WEIRD".

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Freddie made me stand by the sign and took several pictures of me standing on front of the street art, making us look like stupid tourists, but somehow, I didn't care.

Next, he took me across a street and up to a growing line next to a blindingly shiny brick wall.

I grabbed his hand and we stood in line. I examined the wall, painted some metallic gold color but covered in multicolored glitter that shone in the sun. We took a few steps forward, next to a vent.

"Oh my God."

The smell of freshly baked cake hit my nostrils, making my mouth water like crazy. I took a deep breath and leaned against Freddie, dizzy from the intoxicating smell coming out of the vent.

"What is this place?"

Freddie chuckled and gestured to a sign jutting out from the brick wall a few yards away."

"Voodoo Doughnuts. I'd make an entire trip down here just for this place."

My curiosity peaked as we got closer and closer to the front of the line. Finally, we made it into the shop. My senses tingles and I struggled to take in everything at once. There were doughnuts of all shapes and sizes and colors displays everywhere. Freddie led me up to the register.

"Whaddaya want, Sam? Pick eight."

My jaw dropped at the sight of all the doughnuts. Only eight?

And then I saw it…

"Oh my God… Freddie, is that…?"

"Yes it is. A maple bar with bacon on the top."

"Holy crap. I need at least two of those."

Freddie grinned and ordered my two maple bacon bars, a lemon chiffon crueller, a buttermilk bar, a toasted coconut, and a McMinnville Cream, which was a maple doughnut without a hole. And it had a moustache.

I picked out my last six quickly, and Freddie seemed to know all of them. The chocolate one with Oreo and peanut butter was an Old Dirty Bastard, apparently. The banana fritter with maple and chocolate sauce plus chocolate chips was a Memphis Mafia. I also got a Gay Bar, a vanilla iced one with a rainbow of Froot Loops on top. Freddie ordered an extra box and we were back out on the street with two pink cardboard boxes full of doughnuts. Freddie stopped just outside Voodoo Doughnuts and handed me our custom dozen.

"DON'T eat any. Capeesh?"

I growled.

"SAM."

"Fine."

He opened up the second box and offered a doughnut to one of the many homeless people lining the sidewalk outside the busy shop.

The man looked up, stunned, but accepted the small circle of cake and icing gratefully.

Freddie also dropped a $10 in the man's change bowl.

The man stared after Freddie, stunned. I was a little surprised myself, to be honest. It's not like I didn't know he was an amazing guy, I just didn't realize HOW amazing.

He continued down the street, offering $10 and a doughnut to each unfortunate person there. I joined in after the first few, though still giving away the ones from the box he carried.

One woman grabbed my hand as I started off after Freddie.

"God bless you. I haven't been able to stand in food lines long enough because of my arthritis, so I haven't eaten in days. God bless you."

I smiled, surprising even myself, "Thank you, Ma'am. It was an honor to meet you. I wish you the best."

I took a step toward Freddie, who was several people in front of me now, but stopped.

I opened our box and took out a bacon maple bar, offering it to the woman.

"Good luck."

She smiled sadly, and I jogged over to Freddie, who was throwing away the pink box, which was already empty. He took my hand and led me around the corner and down the street.

"Why do you do that?"

Freddie glanced and me and back at the street.

"When I was a kid, my dad used to take me here all the time. He always did that. He used to say that we have so much, and we're selfish not to share with people who are down on their luck."

"But some of them aren't just 'down on their luck'- they wasted all their money on strippers and drugs. It's their fault that they're here."

Freddie stopped and looked me in the eye.

"No. They got sucked into an addiction before they realized what they were doing. Unlucky."

I'd never seen Freddie like this before. He seemed… distant. It was a side of him that was foreign to me.

"My dad was one of those unlucky guys. He was raised in a crackhouse. Never got a decent education. He was addicted to 10 different drugs by the time he was 13. He wanted to make an honest living, but he never knew how. He ran away at sixteen and was homeless for two years. He got help from a lot of other guys out here. He got cleaned up, got a job as the hospital janitor, and then he met my mom. She never knew his whole story. Never really wanted to. She said that the past didn't matter, but it did."

Freddie looked at me with fiery eyes.

"His own father killed him, Sam. His bastard father came and found him and killed him 'cause he ran away when he was sixteen."

My jaw nearly dropped off my skull. Freddie never talked about his dad. Now I knew why.

"We moved to Seattle because of that man. That's why my mom's so overprotective of me. She's terrified that that fucking murderer will come back and take me too. I swear if I ever see him, I'll kill him for what he did to us. I'll fucking kill him."

I squeezed Freddie's limp hand in hopes of bringing him back to reality.

"Freddie. You know that won't solve anything. You can't stoop to his level."

"I know. But I always wanted to be a cop. That way, I could but guys like that behind bars. I don't understand how you can do that… how can you kill your own son?"

A hollowness sunk into my chest, and I lost my footing. Freddie snatched me up before I hit the pavement.

"Sam? SAM! What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Can we go sit somewhere?" I croaked out.

He nodded in confusion and took me to an above ground metro. We took it to a green area with an odd waterfall pool thing. It was mostly deserted, as most kids were in school, and I followed Freddie to an empty spot where we could dangle our feet in the water. I was quiet for a while, but Freddie told me about his father, so…

"Freddie my dad was not like your dad. My dad was not a good guy."

"I know that. He ran out on you guys when you were little."

"No. No, he didn't. My father…"

I took a deep breath.

"Freddie, do you know how old we were when we first met?"

"I moved across the hall from Carly when I was eight."

"Right, and when did Carly and I meet?"

"A year before that."

"Exactly. I moved to Seattle when I was 6. My father…"

I struggled to find the words to tell him.

"It's okay, Sam. You don't have to tell me anything."

"Yes, I do. Freddie, you don't understand. My family moved to Seattle for the same reason yours did- to escape my father."

"Come again?"

"I had a brother once. His name was Garret. He was a year younger than me and Melanie. He…"

My heart beat wildly and I had to wrangle the words from my throat.

"My father killed Garret when he was 4 years old. My father got a death sentence, but after that, nobody looked at us anymore. My mom started drinking, and I had to take care of Melanie by myself. I convinced my mom to move because I didn't want people to stare at me anymore. 'Poor little girl', they used to say. 'Her mother's a druggie and her father murdered her brother, that poor family.' "

My eyes burned with anger.

"I had to grow up too fast Freddie. I had nightmares every night. I saw it happen, Freddie. I SAW my little brother get killed and I didn't do anything. I COULDN'T do anything."

Tears began streaming down my face incessantly.

"I never got to grieve my brother. He was so little… I never even got to say goodbye. I was so busy holding my family together…"

Sobs wracked my body and a presence pulled me closer, comforting me.

"Shh. You know what this says about you Sam? You are ten times as strong as I thought you were."

…

So now you know what happened to Freddie's dad AND the truth about where Sam's dad went. Explains a lot, doesn't it?

Oh, and I've been to Portland many, MANY times and love all three of the places Sam and Freddie went to. Voodoo Doughnuts is magical. Literally.

PLEASE REVIEW!

AND the next chapter might be late… Next week I'm auditioning to be in the orchestra pit of our school's upcoming musical, so I'll be doing some hardcore practicing. I will try my very best to update next Sunday, but don't hate me if I can't. Wish me luck?