Joe wasn't very good for the next few days. He mostly hung out around home, and let me tell you, I've never seen him that bad before. Never. Then I though, oh god, Iola. So, I went to her house and COUGH KIDNAPPED COUGH dragged her, still in her P.J.'s, out to a coffee shop. Our conversation went something like this:

I ran my hand along the booth, sipping my smoothie. I think Iola knew what I was going to say. Oh, she definitely did.

"So, how's your smoothie?"
Asks Iola, as she sips her simple coffee. I take a sip of my banana/ blueberry smoothie, and answer her.

"Fruity. How's your coffee?"
Iola's glass blue eyes shift downward. She's pale and drawn, and, oh god, she looks so so fragile.

"Hot."
I shifted awkwardly. Mom and dad were with lawyers. Aunt Gertrude was actually on a date. I pity the man who she was on a date with. Joe was home alone. I was actually afraid to leave him home alone. And, from the look of Iola's mother's face when I opened the door, she was afraid to leave Iola alone too. Bring on the teenage angst. I sigh and decided it was now or never.

"So let's have a heart to heart."

Iola closes her eyes tightly and sighs. She looks as if she's about to cry.

"I can't."

She whispers so softly that I can barely hear her.

"Why?"

I whisper, equally softly, back.

Iola opens her eyes and stirs her coffee. Her eyes shine with tears.

"Because Joe broke my heart."

I shifted awkwardly yet again. She broke Joe's, too. Although it really wasn't her fault. It was more so the guilt from hurting her that broke Joe's heart.

I suddenly feel the need to take Iola's hand and squeeze it in comfort, so I do.

"You know he would never hurt you on purpose."

Iola smiles, but it's so soft, so bitter, so hardly there that it doesn't make me smile or reassure me, but just the opposite.

"I know. I know. GOD, I know. But it doesn't change the fact that he did."

I look down at the table like it's the most interesting thing ever. I want to tell Iola that Joe loves her, that she loves him. That they click, that they complete each other. But I know that if I do say that, it'll make everything worse. I know I need to wait and see, but I don't want to.

"He's sorry."

Iola shakes her head, as if to say no way.

"How do you know?"

I take her hand again, and mentally force her to meet my eyes.

"I just do."

Iola then takes an extremely shaky breath. Oh god, I don't do well with crying girls. But, the again, if it helps them to realize what they have, and how lucky they are, I can deal. I can deal.

Then, out of the blue, Iola speaks.
"I miss him."

I instantly sit up straighter. Progress.

"But…I don't want to see him. I can't see him. It hurts."

I sigh and rub my temples. Oh god, what have you two DONE?

"I know, Iola. I know."

We sit in silence for another five minutes. Then I decided that I at least had to give my two cents, or, sugar coated two cents because here is no way I'm letting Iola know I listened in our her and Joe's fight. She just thinks that I know that they had a huge killer fight over Ashlee and other things.

I squeeze her hand once more, and then take her chin in my hands. Forcing her, once again, to meet her glass eyes with my brown ones.

"Listen to this Iola Morton, because it's the best advice I will ever EVER give you.

I have never seen anybody fit so perfectly like you and Joe. And I know one of you will come around. You always do. And even if you don't think that, is the last eleven years worth whatever stupid argument you had? The connection you have is beyond rare, beyond belief, no matter what current form it's in."

Iola then started crying.

I remember that day so well. The smell of coffee, Iola bursting into tears.

You might think she's being over dramatic, that Joe's over dramatic, and that I was over dramatic. But you had to be there, to see it. Them. It. Us. To see the way their eyes met, the way they challenged each other each and very goddamn day, to see it all.

Oh god, where am I? Is that a gang? I instantly lock the doors in my car. Shit, I'm in gang banger territory. I sigh and start up the windshield wipers as it starts to rain. Ok, this might hurt my ego, but next gas station I'm stopping for directions.

Ok, so. I take Iola home. Nothing gained, nothing lost. Except our pride.

They didn't come face to face for another four weeks. Or maybe it was more. It was nearly Christmas. And I was going to pick Joe up because his car was in the shop. I had walked into the school to talk to an old teacher and friend of mine, and I noticed Iola drop her pencil at the end of the hall. Then, my brother picked it up. He held it out, she didn't take it. They just stared at each other. I couldn't-and still can't- read lips. But I knew nothing big was said.

But they lied when they said they were Ok.

Then, Iola's kinda-sorta-yes-unforunitly star quarter-back boyfriend comes up from behind Iola and put his arm around her. Joe then walked away quietly, with Bo making jokes about him.

We both punched lockers then.