I honestly have no idea why my parents insisted that I come stay with them for the entire summer, considering they're not even here! What's the point of being three thousand miles from everything I consider home for a mother and father who can't even pick their own daughter up from the airport. Never mind even be home when I get here. This is certainly shaping up to be one crappy summer already.

I pick up one of my lighter suitcases from the foyer floor and start to half carry half drag it up the two flights of stairs to where I assume the bedrooms to be. After a few near tumbles back down to the tiled entranceway I manage to find my room, thanks to the note from my mother taped to the closed door.

Brooke,

Your father and I are so sorry we missed your homecoming. One of his important clients invited us to an overnight golf invitational in Santa Barbara. I'm sure you understand. We're both looking forward to having you here with us from now on, we've missed you terribly. I've had Candy (our new maid, you'll love her!) place fresh linens on your bed, so you should be all set. The refrigerator is stocked as well, so make yourself some dinner. We'll be back on Sunday night.

Love,

Mom and Dad

I'm not so sure I like the sound of her 'from now on' bit in there. This is nothing more than a temporary situation. If they think I'm going to stay here past August then my parents have another thing coming. There's no way I'm missing out on senior year with Peyton back in Tree Hill. I'd take a cue from Nathan's playbook and become emancipated before that would happen.

The thought of Peyton reminds me that I'm still carrying my duffel bag on my shoulder, and even though it's rather light, the lugging of all my suitcases is starting to really wear on me. It's only 11pm and I'm already zonked. Of course if I wasn't as tired as I am it would have dawned on me that it's really 2am my time. Something tells me I'm going to be waking up Peyton in the middle of the night for a while until I get the hang of the time difference.

I throw the duffel on the bed, unzipping it to root around for a clean set of pj's, feeling far too exhausted to make even an attempt at unpacking tonight. My hand comes into contact with something hard and unfamiliar instead. I wrap my fingers around what feels to be a leather bound book of some kind, pulling it clear of the bag and bringing it under my nightstand lamp for a better look.

'The Scattered Tangents of Peyton Sawyer'

Peyton has a journal? How did I not know that? And how in the world did it end up in my overnight bag of all places. I run my fingers over the stenciled inscription, a bemused smile forming over my lips. That's my best friend, overdramatic as always. I'm extremely tempted to call Peyton and ask how I managed to drag her journal three thousand miles across the country. But that inner devil of mine, the one that seemed to have gone into hibernation lately, is making a sudden reappearance. The temptation to open up the leather encased window into Peyton's soul is awfully strong.

I'm debating about it, which is even enough to make me feel guilty. And yet ironically enough, the guilt isn't convincing me to not open it. Ethically speaking I really should just put it back in my bag where I found it, bury it under everything and return it to Peyton when I get back to Tree Hill. That's what the new Brooke would do. Miss Class President would take the high road.

The old Brooke, well she would dive right in. Reading the journal, hoping to find something in the vein of one of those trashy $5.95 romance novels you find in the magazine aisle of the supermarket.

Apparently right now I'm a convoluted mix of the two, because I can't decide one way or the other. I really don't want to invade Peyton's privacy, the little that she usually does have from me. But on the flip side of the coin, there's always been a small little part of her heart that I've never seen. It's the place that's closed off even from me. I honestly don't know if she's shown anyone that part of her. And I have to admit, it does hurt sometimes. She's my best friend, the one person I count on the most in my life. She knows me inside and out, I've never hidden anything from her. And yet there's a piece of her I haven't been able to touch. And there's something telling me that if I open her journal I'll finally be able to understand why.

My fingertips are dancing along the tops of the pages, as if I'm hoping I can somehow feel what's inside without having to open it.

Apparently I'm not supposed to though, at least not right this minute. Or so says my cell phone, the shrill ring making itself known from where I tossed it onto my bed. I manage to grab it before the obnoxious ring tone fades out. I really need to download something else other than Peyton's little idea of a joke. Thinking we could relive our adolescence by having matching Spice Girls ring tones in honor of the concert we went to in Charlotte when we were 10.

Shaking my head fondly at the massive dorks we made of ourselves that night, I quickly glance at the caller ID. Speak of the devil. Apparently my best friend is clairvoyant, at least when it comes to me doing something decidedly naughty.

"Gone less than six hours and you already can't live without me." I sass in greeting.

"Brooke, I thought you had ID on your cell. It's me, not Lucas." Ohh, sarcasm in full throttle, I wonder who she spent her night with. Actually it really doesn't take a genius to figure it out after that little remark.

"And it's apparent his mood rubbed off on you."

Peyton sighs in defeat. "I can never win with you, can I?"

Actually, she's usually the one with the sharper wit, I'm always having to concede defeat with a pointedly stuck out tongue in her general direction. I'm wondering if I should be worried about her now. "You know how I love being on top P. Sawyer."

Now that got a laugh out of her. Although I can feel that something's not quite right. It's not really anything in her tone of voice. It's more like intuition. Which is very odd considering I'm all the way across the country from her.

"Actually I've never had that particular pleasure Brooke."

Well now! It seems a three thousand mile separation is enough to embolden my dear bestest friend. Apparently I'm the one rubbing off, not Lucas. I'm so proud! And if I'm being completely honest with myself, slightly turned on too. Flirty Peyton is apparently a force to be reckoned with.

"Care to change that little oversight then?"

I really don't know what's wrong with me. Sure, flirting comes as natural to me as taking in a lungful of oxygen. But while Peyton and I have teased each other, we've never been overtly sexual about it. Of course I have gotten a bit territorial every once in a while. I wonder if it's ever bothered her. Probably not, I'm pretty sure she assumes I'm just kidding. Which I usually am, to a degree at least. But I found myself facing a massive case of green eyed monster syndrome when she was hanging around with Anna. I knew no good would come of it, seeing DYKE plastered across her locker was enough to convince me I had been right the entire time. But I suppose I need to take some responsibility for that fiasco myself. Felix somehow realized I wasn't just putting on my intense dislike of Anna for no reason. I still can't figure out how he knew, because other than my relationship with Peyton, he was entirely off the mark with all the other facets of my life.

As I'm pondering that disturbing tidbit I'm reminded of my innocuous little comment, Peyton's silence starting to worry me. I think I can literally hear her trying to form a comeback.

"And if I said I did?"

That was the last thing I expected though. "Ok, conversation heading to the gutter."

"You started it!" Ah very mature PS.

"And since when have you ever let me get away with anything?"

"What?" I can hear the indignation in her voice, it's adorable! "Are you serious, I always cave to you!"

I scoff at that. "Right, when exactly has this 'always' occurred, because I certainly don't remember it."

"Let's see, maybe the time we were on Hatteras Island with your father's boat and you just conveniently decided that liquoring him up was the only way to check out the bonfire on Avon Beach." Ok, she may have me there. But that's only one time. "God, the sight of your father upchucking all his internal organs is something that I still have nightmares about!"

"Oh come on, now you're just being overdramatic. It wasn't that bad." It wasn't ALL his insides really, just maybe an intestine or so. Fine, so maybe it was pretty bad. But I was smart enough to not watch, I don't know why in the world she did.

"How would you know, you were halfway to shore while I was trying to keep him from falling overboard!" Well I guess that explains why she remembers it so vividly. Eww, gross. My poor Peyton.

"Well I saw a cute guy, what'd you want me to do?"

"Apparently let your father drown."

"Cute PS, real cute. So that's one. One does not preclude 'always'."

"Trust me Brooke, we go through my whole list and the sun will be rising on your side of the country before we're done."

"So we're keeping score now, is that it?" I really wish I could see her face, she gets all red in the ears when I tease her, it's beyond cute. And with that thought I can't help but wonder why I've never realized how often I find myself thinking that particular way about Peyton. Huh, that's an interesting little thought.

Peyton plays innocent. "What, you mean you haven't been?"

Oh, she's gonna get it for that one. "Nope, I know you're my bitch, so what's the point?"

That one got a genuine laugh out of her. "Is that right?"

"Yep, and you wouldn't be laughing if you didn't already know it was true."

Somewhere along the line though, all crude analogies aside, Peyton has become 'mine' somehow. It explains the intense jealousy I felt when she was spending her time with someone other than me, even though I was entirely preoccupied with Felix. All teasing aside, this conversation is starting to become just a little too real for me. I'm not sure I want to deal with all of these new thoughts right now. Maybe I can just blame it on the jet lag, but something tells me that this is more of the possibly life changing variety.

"Ok, so what were we talking about again?"

Oh, just the fact I might be having a sexual identity epiphany. Nothing much really. I can't exactly tell her that though. "Who knows, you're the one that called me, remember?"

"Oh right." There's an awkward pause, the light mood suddenly evaporating.

"Not that I'm complaining mind you, but was there a specific reason I had to hear 'Wannabe' after a six hour plane ride next to some hairy guy who must have been eating at one of Emeril's restaurants right before he stepped on the plane."

Peyton chuckles. "Well at least you knew he wasn't a vampire."

"Someone's been watching Buffy reruns again." I tease, but I can tell she's avoiding answering my question. I'm reminded of my sense that something was wrong with her before we got into our little Flirt Fiesta. "So really Peyton, what's up? I get the feeling you needed to talk."

"What makes you think that?" I can literally feel the nervous energy coming through the phone line.

"Peyton."

She sighs a bit. "I really shouldn't have called you about it, I mean you're already dealing with enough of your own crap right now, what with moving to the other side of the country and all. You don't need this right now."

She's rambling. Peyton never rambles. This is bad. "Peyton, come on, would you just tell me."

"I should let you go, I mean you're probably exhausted from the plane ride. And I bet you didn't even shower yet to get the garlic boy smell off---"

"Peyton!" Yep, this has to be really bad.

"My mother showed up on my doorstep tonight."

"What!" Ok, that can't be possible.

I was with Peyton when her mother died. I held her hand during the funeral, I rode my bike to the grocery store three different times because she had run out of tissues, she was crying so much. I sat there next to her on the couch in her grandmother's den during the wake, watching as one by one people I had never seen before paid their respects and gave her and Papa Peyton their condolences. I remember Mr. Farrell, our elementary school principal coming up to us at the end of juniors cheerleading practice. All the other girls had been picked up, but Peyton's mom was running late, so I stayed outside on the bench with her to wait. I heard him tell her that there had been an accident, I can still remember the feeling of her shoulders shaking under my arm wrapped around them as she tried to understand what he was telling her. Her mother is gone, it's been one of Peyton's defining characteristics as she's gotten older. That day changed her life forever.

Peyton lets out a shaky breath. "Yeah, I kinda had less of a shocked reaction and more of a slamming the door in her face one."

"Wait, you saw her!"

"Not her, not my Mom. Someone else."

My parents really have THE worst timing. I can hear it in her voice, the last place I should be is away from her right now. "Ok, I'm completely lost. What's going on Peyton?"

"You remember the article that was being written about Tric?"

I smile a bit, unseen to her of course. The article wasn't being written about Tric, it was about her. A seventeen year old club promoter who landed one of the biggest alternative acts in the country right now. I was so proud of her, even if I did hate the fact that the reporter had the same annoying sense of timing that my parents apparently have.

But that's besides the point right now. "Yeah, what does that have to do with any of this?"

"That woman doing the story, she showed up at my door tonight, claiming to be my mother. She said that her real name is Elizabeth."

"Wait, like your middle name?"

"One in the same, she told me that's where it comes from."

Oh God, I really need to be in Tree Hill right now. Poor Peyton. "So what did you do?"

"What was I supposed to do? Believe her?" No, but something in my gut is telling me that this isn't so cut and dry. And from what I'm hearing in Peyton's voice, she's not so convinced of this woman's fallacy either.

"But you do don't you, at least in some way."

There's a long silence, and just as I'm beginning to wonder if I've upset her I hear a morose soft laugh. "I think we've been together too long, it's disturbing how well you know me."

"I'd like to think it's more comforting than disturbing really." I say lightheartedly, trying to raise the mood up a bit.

"It is. Thanks Brooke." She sighs again, and with a glance at my watch I can understand why. It's just after midnight here so she must be exhausted. Especially after the day she apparently had. And for the hundredth time just today I find myself cursing my parents and their incessant need to have me out here with them.

"Why don't you get some sleep girlie, I'll give you a call in the morning to check up on you."

"Brooke, it IS morning."

I roll my eyes. "Go to bed Peyton!"

"Oh you know I love it when you get all bossy."

Well apparently she's feeling better, we've slid right back into the gutter. And wow, I think I can feel my cheeks warming a bit. That little brat made me blush! "Goodnight Peyton."

"What, no comeback?" She chuckles a bit in apparent victory.

"No, jetlag gives me a get out of jail free card for the night."

"Fine, but now I can't say I never win anymore." There's a bit of hesitancy in her voice before she continues. "Thanks Brooke, for everything."

The sincerity in her voice gives me goose bumps. "Anything Peyton, you know that." Now it's my turn to hesitate. "I love you, that means I'm always gonna be here for you."

"I know, and I love you for it."

We say our goodbyes with me promising to call her in the afternoon to give her the rundown of sunny SoCal so far. Of course that's not the real reason, but I think it makes both of us worry a little less if we act as if the situation isn't really happening, at least for the sake of a good night's sleep.

After a nice hot shower I slip into a pair of silk boxer shorts and an old tank top I used to wear for cheerleading practice. As I reach up to turn the lamp on my nightstand off I'm reminded of Peyton's journal, sitting neatly on the wooden surface beside me. I had completely forgotten about it, the conversation having spun in an entirely different direction. I couldn't exactly bring up a potential invasion of her privacy while she was all upset about her Faux!Ma. Running my fingertips along the worn leather I decide that it's best to forget about it for the time being. After all, I have three months out here to waste.

AN: I apologize for the crappyness of this chapter. I finished it up at 4am just to get it posted, so I'm not real happy with how it turned out. In any case, thanks for all the reviews! I'm not sure how quickly I can get the next section up, so please bear with me.