Lauren knew the minute the jam jar slipped from her grasp that the afternoon would not go as planned. She stared at the red smear of strawberry preserves on the floor, her face scrunched up in a wince, her eyebrows raised and furrowed, the jar's cap and the butter knife in her left hand.

"This is bad."

The crash would inevitably have been heard by her aunt, and since her mother was out, there would be no mercy. Lauren steeled herself for the worst as she put the items in her hand back on the counter and grabbed the sponge from the kitchen sink. When she switched the taps on, she heard steps coming from the stairs, and a voice she loathed hearing on good days and bad.

"Lauren, what was that?"

Not today, please. The girl squeezed the excess water from the sponge and answered, "A jar. It slipped."

She focused on the sound of the still-running water to drown out Darcie's first condescending remark, then shut the faucet and knelt next to the spot. Moments later she was joined by her aunt, who all but shook the mop in her niece's face.

"Get away, you take too long," Darcie said roughly, going over the spot Lauren had just finished up with.

Yeah, but at least I do it when I have to. Jaw tight and determined not to answer to that, Lauren stood, rinsed the sponge out, and left, drying her hands on her shorts. She could hear her aunt's grumbling until she was up the stairs. She got to her room and swung the door closed, realizing too late that she pushed it too hard. She winced at the resulting slam.

"Good God!" she whispered, facing the roof, hoping against the odds that Darcie hadn't heard it.

"Don't slam that door!"

Fuck you. "I didn't!"

The silence was interpretted as a threat, and so Lauren said no more, just groaned and fought the urge to hurl something out the window. She glanced at her digital clock, ignoring the unfinished essay drafts next to it, and remembered suddenly that she was expecting someone.

Amazing how a run-in with Aunt Darcie can make me forget there's good in the world. She glanced out the window, at the clear, blue sky, and sighed. I can't put Dor through an afternoon with Auntie Dearest like this.

Lauren walked to the window and stared at the yard, at the recently-cut grass, at the daisies growing at the base of the tree.

The tree. Duh! The oak tree grew in a convenient spot, and firm branches extended to her window. It had served for sneaking in and out on several occasions already. She would wait, then, and hope Dorianne's musical theatre training would make the climb seem less daunting.

But then, if Lauren could make it, anyone could.

She passed the time by watching birds come and go from their nest at the uppermost branch. Then, finally, she saw her friend appear on the sidewalk after passing the neighbors' huge hedges. She waved and called in whisper-yells until, when the brunette was halfway across the yard, Dorianne looked up.

Lauren put a finger to her lips, mouthing, "Climb," as she motioned to the tree. She laughed lightly as she saw confusion write itself on Dorianne's face, then retreated into her room until the other girl climbed through the window.

Dorianne dusted herself off, smiling, and asked, "What was that about?"

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Ugh, my aunt's angry with me. Thought I'd save you the trouble of a confrontation."

"Thanks... I think."

The two giggled in unison. Lauren sat on the floor and instructed Dorianne to make herself at home. The brunette slowly took a spot on the floor, taking in the room as she did so.

"I haven't been up here in two years," she said.

The blonde smiled, nostalgia peering through her eyes. "Time flies, doesn't it."

An uncomfortable silence, filled with glances and thoughts, followed.

"So," Dorianne finally said, smiling cheerfully at the other girl. "How have you been?"

"Well enough," Lauren replied, forcing herself to smile amid the repulsion she felt for the small talk. "Up and down. Not much really happens to me. You, though -- you must have some interesting things to say."

The brunette grinned, looking away for a moment as she felt her cheeks warm up.

"Well, we're working on Twelfth Night, and Paul -- that's my boyfriend -- is playing Duke Orsino. So it's a lot of fun."

"I take it he's your character's love interest?"

"Eventually."

"I'm so jealous."

Dorianne looked very surprised, a habit of hers from even before her education in the theatrical arts.

"What? Why?"

Lauren lowered her head and picked at a loose thread in her cushioned slippers.

"Well... Because you, like, have a life. You go places, you meet people, you do things. I'm just..." She looked at the posters of Japanese cartoons on the walls. "I'm just home."

"That's not what I hear," Dorianne said, a taunting melody in her voice.

"Really? What do you hear?"

"I hear you're at nearly every party there is in this town."

"Tsk, that doesn't count." The blonde shook her head. "You don't make friends at parties. You make random acquaintances you never get to know. I've kept in touch with, what, one person I met at a party, out of no less than a hundred. And she doesn't even live in Stoneybrook."

"That's something, though."

Lauren sighed, annoyed but amused at her defeat. "...I guess."

The girls were quiet again. This time it was the hostess who shattered the silence.

"Where are you going to college?"

"NYC. Have you ever heard of the American Musical and Dramatic Academy?"

"No, but it sounds great."

Dorianne smiled, looking up at the roof with a happy dreamer's expression.

"It is. Paul is going, too."

Before she realized she'd said it, Lauren responded almost sarcastically, "I'm happy for you."

Both drew in a breath, and Lauren fumbled for words.

"I, um -- I didn't mean it like that--"

"It's fine."

"No, it's not." Damn it! Stupid! "I'm sorry."

"Really, Lauren, it's fine."

Her friend's hand on her shoulder was all Lauren needed to know it really was all right, but that didn't make the guilt disappear in its entirety. She sighed rather shakily and kept her gaze on the pencil she'd left on the floor by the desk.

"So," Dorianne intoned, trying to bring back the mood that had flitted like a frightened butterfly. "What about you? What are your plans for college?"

The blonde took a second before giving her response. "UConn. I wanted to go to this art school in Savannah, but I didn't get in."

"You... You could always try again next semester," the brunette offered.

"What, are you kidding me?" Lauren managed to inject energy into her words, but her smile was obviously forced. "I can apply every quarter, and I plan to. They'll be so sick of hearing from me that they'll accept me just so I'll stop applying!"

Dorianne grinned, but the sadness at her friend's drop in mood was evident in all her countenance. "That's the spirit," she said, much in the same way the other had just spoken.

In the quietness that followed, Dorianne tucked loose strands of blonde behind Lauren's ear, then did the same for her brown ones.

"Have we grown so far apart that we feel uncomfortable talking like this?"

Lauren looked away, closing her eyes against the stinging in them.

"No, it's just not a very good day."

The digital clock display suddenly glared at her, and she tugged at her slippers again, picking a ball of lint off the right one.

"I don't want to sound rude or anything, but Aunt Darcie could come upstairs any minute."

Dorianne put her hand over Lauren's free one.

"I understand."

The brunette got up, and soon the blonde did the same.

"Thanks for coming," Lauren said weakly.

"It was a pleasure," Dorianne replied, giving the words all the life that could be given them on a stage. She was pleased when she saw Lauren's own vivacity return to her eyes.

"I'm gonna miss you so much," Lauren stated, her voice shaking despite her grin.

"Just shut up, don't say anything else."

The girls held each other, cried a little, and finally pulled away.

"You can, y'know, come over whenever you want," Lauren began as they walked to the window. "I'll sneak out if I have to, you know, I'll just use the tree."

Dorianne laughed. "All right. I'll see you."

"'Bye."

Lauren watched as Dorianne descended, smiling. When she was all the way down, the observer sighed, content.

"See ya."