A/N: Here's a five part oneshot I thought up to humor you. Each part here is exactly a hundred words, just for the heck of it.
(I)
I see her with her friends and I wonder why I'm even still around. She always has her hand on that skinny arm of the nerd with curly hair and stupid glasses. The puppet attached to his other arm is mean and sarcastic but she finds it cute.
She giggles, and for some reason, I get reminded of all the times she never giggled like that in front of me. And all the times I wasn't around to see it.
They're all laughing about all the inside jokes I'm not in on, but I just stay quiet.
She looks happy.
(II)
She comes home one day and her face is flushed. Her eyes are brown and wide and bewildered and her hands on her cheeks. She takes a seat by the counter and becomes quiet, her face looking like she's deep in thought.
I would have asked, "What's going on?" but I'm not sure I'd like the answer.
So instead, I remind her of the kids we have to babysit today, but she doesn't seem to listen. I make us food and play That's A Drag! on Nonna's VCR.
"Sam, I just kissed my friend," she announces.
My heart sinks.
(III)
No kids to babysit the next day. And nothing on television. I suggest we go to Bots rather than sit around doing nothing. She tells me she has homework and asks me if I could help.
I scoff and tell her "Nope," and then we're quiet.
Her Pear Phone starts ringing on the counter, but she ignores it. I tell her it's ringing and she shushes me with a finger to my lips.
I push her hand away and roll my eyes.
The ringing stops and then a text. I go over to the counter to check.
[ ROBBIE:
You there? ]
(IV)
It's been a few weeks. She giggles a lot more now, but not as much as her Pear Phone likes to ring.
Sometimes she picks up, but most of the time she buries the phone under her pink blanket instead.
After almost a month, something else rings: the doorbell.
I stay at the counter because I know the kids aren't supposed to come until another two hours. She skips to the door, humming.
It's the nerd with his stupid face and his Pear Phone in his hand.
They talk—I try not to listen.
She doesn't look happy.
They kiss.
(V)
I tell her I don't want to stay anymore. I tell her I can't. I tell her the motorcycle doesn't feel at home here.
She stands on the doorway with her confused little face. She looks like she's going to cry, so I tell her she'll be fine.
My packed bag sits on the floor between us.
I'm ready to go—everything hurts.
She asks me what she's going to do without me, and I tell her, "I don't know. Call Nonna."
She tells me I'm her best friend. She hugs me—everything hurts, because that's all I'll ever be.