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Bree was alphabetizing the Pop section in CD Warehouse when the bell above the door chimed, signalling the entrance of a customer. She was still agonizing over whether or not Christina Aguilera should now be filed under X-Tina when there was a tap on her shoulder. She turned to face a grinning Frank Iero, holding two tickets in his hand. ‘Look,’ he said quickly. ‘I know we haven’t seen each other since the party and that night was a little weird, but I’ve gotta ask you while I’ve still got the balls.’
Bree frowned. ‘Ask me what?’
‘To come and see Black Flag with me.’

Bree could not believe what she was seeing; Frank holding Black Flag tickets that he had bought for the two of them. ‘Like a date?’ She verified, unable to disguise her smile.
‘Uh, yeah.’ Frank looked nervous.
‘Okay.’
‘Okay?’ Frank’s face lit up at the very word.
‘Okay.’ She nodded.
‘Okay.’ Frank repeated enthusiastically.
‘I can’t help but think you guys are stuck conversationally.’ Carrie smirked from behind the counter, where she had been deciding what CD to play next. Bree glared at her, then turned back to face Frank.

‘So um, what have you been up to since the party?’ She said, trying to ignore Carrie.
‘Eh, not much,’ Frank began, rifling through the punk section and pulling out a Misfits record and reading the back of the cover. ‘Just band practice and working. Nothing special. College is out for Christmas vacation.’
‘Where do you work?’ Bree asked, as she resumed her alphabetizing.
‘Eyeball records. Just intern type work.’
‘Cool,’ Bree replied. ‘Do you enjoy it?’
‘Not as much as I’d enjoy playing guitar on stage for the rest of my life.’
‘I’m sure you will one day,’ Bree smiled at him before she bent over to pick up a box of CDs to take to the Reggae section.

~

That night, Bree was slaving over the stove boiling some pasta for her and Jackson’s dinner. Jackson sat at the kitchen counter, groaning about how hungry he was. ‘Seriously, my stomach’s eating itself. Why didn’t you start cooking as soon as you got home?’
‘Because some of us like to bathe every once in a while, Jackson,’ Bree rolled her eyes. ‘Not all of us want to walk around smelling like you.’
‘Oh, as if that’s true. Everyone wants to smell like me. I smell like fucking heaven.’
‘You smell like the underside of some kind of wild pig.’
Jackson glared at her. ‘You know, you’re the only girl who’s ever anything less than nice to me around here.’
‘Good, you need it. If everyone’s always nice to you your head’s going to approach the rough size of an elephant,’ Bree laughed.
‘Oh, so this is all for my own good then?’ The siblings’ laughter was interrupted by knocking on the front door. Jackson disappeared into the hall to answer the door while Bree remained in the kitchen, stirring the pasta absentmindedly and staring out the window.

‘Mikey!’ Jackson exclaimed from the front door. Bree barely noticed that the pasta was boiling over, sending boiling water streaming over the sides of the pot.
‘Turn that off Bree, it’s fucking ready!’ Jackson yelled when he entered the kitchen, running over to the stovetop and turning it off. He worked on draining the pasta while Bree stood staring at the figure that stood in the archway of the hall. ‘What are you doing here?’ She asked coldly.
‘He came to eat but you almost just sabotaged that,’ Jackson replied smartly from the sink.
‘Maybe I don’t want him to have my pasta.’
‘Maybe nobody cares, Bree,’ Jackson said nonchalantly. Mikey said nothing, simply crossing the room to sit at the kitchen table.

‘So Bree, I was thinking,’ Jackson began as he took the pasta sauce off the stove. ‘Tuesday’s the only day I’ve got off this week and we need to get our Christmas tree. I was thinking we should get it that night.’ Every year as long as they could remember, Jackson and Bree had driven into New York City to pick the perfect Christmas tree. Even after their father had died they had carried on the tradition; if only to keep a part of him with them during the holiday season. ‘I can’t,’ Bree said, realization taking over.
‘Why not?’ Jackson frowned.
‘I have plans.’
‘Cancel them,’ Jackson shrugged as he stirred the sauce through the pasta.
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I doubt Black Flag will be willing to cancel their gig just because I need a Christmas tree.’

Jackson stopped what he was doing and Mikey’s eyes looked up from the spot he had been staring at on the table. ‘You’re going to Black Flag? With who? It’s sold out!’ Jackson spluttered.
‘Frank,’ Bree replied smugly.
‘Like a date?’ Jackson frowned. Mikey’s head completely lifted to stare at Bree. She nodded in response.
Mikey rose from his seat and stormed from the room, muttering something that sounded vaguely like ‘bathroom.’ Jackson frowned as he watched Mikey go, then turned back to Bree.
‘Okay we’ll just go next week then. We’re just cutting it a little close is all.’ Bree nodded and crossed the room to go to her room and get changed.

As she stepped into the hallway she stopped to see Mikey staring at a photo of herself and Carrie. He turned to her, acknowledging her presence, then turned back to continue looking at the picture. ‘That was my birthday last year. Carrie got drunk and threw up all over Joel Madden at a Good Charlotte gig.’ She grinned. ‘I was drunk too. I stopped drinking a few months after that. Until, of course, the other night.’ Mikey didn’t say anything, but continued to stare blankly at the photograph. ‘I’m sorry you had to be the one to deal with me that night. I know it must have been weird. I mean, you don’t even like me.’ Mikey stared at Bree with a look she couldn’t understand. ‘I just wanted to say thank you, anyway.’ Bree said, and she turned to walk to her bedroom.
‘Bree?’ Mikey’s voice said. She turned to face him. ‘You’re dating Frank now?’ It wasn’t a statement, it was a question.
‘Yeah.’ She replied, and walked into her room, oblivious to the look on Mikey’s face that said all the words that he couldn’t.

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