Brooke and Peyton met in kindergarten. The big yellow bus was crowded with screaming children, jumping around and flailing their limbs everywhere. Peyton sat quietly by herself that morning, staring blankly out the window. She was worried about her alphabet worksheet in a way most kindergarteners didn’t even know existed. Brooke hesitantly marched up the aisle, it was her first day at a new school and all the seats were full, except the one next to Peyton. She sat down, grinned and said, “Hi, I’m Brooke”
“I’m new here” She tried to mask her fear of this new place with confidence, but it wasn’t working out so well, it would be a skill the brunette would acquire later in life after lots of practice.
“That’s okay, you can sit with me on the ride home too”
A week later, Peyton sat at the lunch table, scribbling on a spare piece of paper. Brooke sat down next to her, noticing that her new friend didn’t have her normal Looney Tunes lunch box situated in front of her. Silently, she took half of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of its plastic bag and placed it on a napkin in front of Peyton.
Peyton looked at Brooke, thanks evident in her eyes, she picked up the sandwich, took a large bit. “I forgot mine today.”
Soon enough the kindergarten class' seating chart was rearranged and Brooke and Peyton were not only sitting together on the bus, but during the day as well. Each young girl warming up to the other, seeing that they were friends, because they had been friends since the moment they meant, now they just referred to each other as such.
Peyton was having trouble with her worksheet on the letter ‘z’. For some reason she kept trying to write it backwards, so it looked more like ‘s’. The frustration and annoyance was etched on her face and she squinted and almost erased a hole through her paper. Brooke leaned over in her chair, and placed her hand delicately over Peyton’s. She guided her friend’s hand for a row and then let her try by herself. Watching happily, as the way to write the letter clicked in her mind, Brooke reached out and hugged the blond girl. Joy radiating between the two.
Brooke sat in the sandbox, grains sticking to her sweaty 1st grade legs. She patted the sand into her bright red bucket, carefully set in upside-down in the sandbox, tapped the bottom and a perfect circle was revealed when she lifted the bucket up.
Suddenly, a menacing bully can up and stomped right through the brunette’s hard work. She felt like crying and yelling and running to the teacher. But she didn’t want to be known as the school’s reining tattletale either.
Peyton, who had seen the whole incident and the devastated look on Brooke’s face as the beginning of her sandcastle came crashing down, made her way through the playground and helped her friend rebuild. And when the same boy came up to wreck havoc on their hard work, they teamed up and pushed him away from the sandbox with all their 1st grade strength.
After conquering the sandbox, Peyton confessed that she had never been able to get her way across the monkey bars. She felt a bit embarrassed when the brunette’s mouth fell wide open in complete shock. “Well, we need to do sumthing about that!”
She helped Peyton across, holding onto the blonde’s thin waist with all her might. Making sure that her friend wouldn’t fall and get hurt, she was there to offer strength, support and safety to Peyton as she defeated her fear.
Within a week, Peyton could swing herself across the monkey bars faster than anyone in her class.
In second grade, Brooke conceived the idea that she just needed to have some sort of pet. Preferably a tiny white dog she has seen in the pet store window, but her parents refused. They wouldn’t listen to any argument Brooke tried to make in her favor. When she complained about this injustice to Peyton, they schemed together.
Peyton’s mom asked Brooke’s parent’s if it would be okay for the two girls to share one goldfish. And it was agreed upon. The fish spent all of its time at the Sawyer residence, but Brooke came over everyday to watch it swim around the tank, waving its small fin. Brooke and Peyton always fed Sunshine together (It took them a whole week to decide on a name) and got help cleaning the tank from Mrs. Sawyer.
The picture of pure bliss on Brooke’s face the moment Peyton told her they could share a pet stuck with Peyton forever. And she loved that she could make her friend so happy, because it made Peyton happy too. And Sunshine must have been the most loved, well-cared for goldfish ever.
Mrs. Davis took the two best friends to the mall one Sunday afternoon, because at this point they had confirmed the fact that they would be best friends, forever and for always. Both girls wanted some sort of sign to show the whole world what they meant to one another.
As they browsed the stores, Mrs. Davis tired on make-up, by the end of the day she looked like a character from a horror movie. But it did not really matter, because while walking through a small shop, Peyton had spotted two purple-colored bracelets. Woven together, the word “Best” on one and “Friends” on the other. They were perfect and simple. Sure, all best friends their ages had the bracelets, but Brooke and Peyton never wore theirs on their wrists. They used them as ponytail holders, or bookmarks, or ankle bracelets, neither really minded the purpose it was being used for, as long as each day both the blond and brunette used it for the same thing.
The first time Brooke and Peyton had a garage sale they raided each of their basements and houses for random odds and ends. Finding little they wanted to give away, the tables were scarce. But it didn’t matter, Peyton stood with their fake register and Brooke tried to recruit neighbors to come and buy something.
Raising a totally of ten dollars and 25 cents, they split the money as evenly as possible, five dollars each, and donated the change to food for Sunshine. With their earnings, Brooke and Peyton chased the ice cream man down the street and bought ice cream sandwiches for all their hard work. When the ripped open the slippery white packaging, they hit their sandwiches together, toasting one another and their friendship.
The last time Brooke and Peyton played house was on the first day of third grade. Brooke had claimed the role of teenage daughter, telling Peyton she would have to be the Mom. It was a requirement, because “every house at least has a Mom”. And Brooke pretended to rebel and shouted at the top of her lungs. And Peyton yelled back. Even though it was the two girls’ first fight ever, and it was all fake, it still left Peyton sad.
She felt that if this was what it was like, being angry at Brooke, having the brunette be angry at her, she never wanted to experience it for real. Her best friend had a fine pair of lungs, that was for sure.
When Peyton’s Mom died, Brooke jumped on her bike and rode faster than she had ever before. Pumping her legs, speeding up and down the small hills that plagued Tree Hill, She could feel the burn and her breathing was labored. She didn’t care, all she felt was concern.
When she reached the blond’s house, she raced up the stairs and gasped for a small breath at Peyton’s door. Slowly, she twisted the knob and pushed the door in a bit, peaking her head in and whispering “P. Sawyer, you in here?”
The reply was silence and Brooke spotted a lump under the bedspread. She ambled her way over to Peyton, lifted off the cover and wrapped her best friend in a hug. She brushed the blond curls out of Peyton’s hazel eyes, noticing that they were red and puffy, tear stains ran along her cheeks and jaw bone. Laying her head on Brooke’s shoulder, Peyton cried and Brooke held her tightly, rubbing her hand softly in comforting circles on Peyton's back.
This was the routine for two weeks; eventually, Brooke tired of it, realizing that Peyton could miss her Mom, she always would, but still needed to live her life. So the brunette pulled back the covers one day, and reached her small hands out for Peyton to take, helping her out of bed and outside.
Brooke had attended the funeral with Peyton three days after Mrs. Sawyer’s death, and held her best friend’s hand the whole time. Never once letting it go. Peyton was glad, because she wasn’t sure she would have been able to stand up without Brooke there. The brunette was like her crutch, helping her walk and get through the days filled with pain and tears. Brooke was her sunshine, (only much better than the goldfish) and Peyton realized how much she needed and love her at that moment.
One day, Brooke’s mother inquired as to why Peyton and her daughter had never had a sleepover. The third grader could think of no plausible answer. She bounced over to the phone, and in a flash, she dialed the number that she had memorized long ago, into the phone. Hearing Peyton’s neutral voice, Brooke breathed into the phone, “Wannahaveasleepover?”, all at once. The blond’s reaction was positive.
That night, the moon was bright, stars twinkling. And the two girls bounced around, doing each other’s hair and nails, eating twizzlers, M&Ms, and peanut butter out of the jar. Brooke started a game of truth or dare that wasn’t very fun with just the two of them, but it was at the same time. They cuddled together in Brooke’s bed and talked for hours, finally drifting to sleep around two in the morning.
The summer before fourth grade, Brooke confessed that she had no idea how to swim and was scared to immersed her face completely in the water. Peyton could not let this be, and she dragged Brooke to the local Tree Hill pool, hand wrapped around the brunette’s arm, clutching it and using all her strength.
That summer, Peyton taught her best friend how to swim, slowly. Everyday, bribing her with a lipstick or money or trip to the mall, Peyton magically got Brooke to the pool. She helped her learn how to kick, and put her face in the water, move her arms and let go of the wall. By the middle of June, Brooke could swim freestyle and backstroke as well as any almost fourth grader in Tree Hill.
With the notion that if her best friend ever fell off a cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, she wouldn’t drown, made Peyton feel a little bit safer, even though by now she knew that was a totally unreasonable thought.
Soon, every Tuesday the two girls made their way to the mall. Riding their bikes, wind propelling them forward. Brooke watched as Peyton looked at the new releases, buying at least two CDs. Peyton ambled over to the make-up with Brooke, arm-in-arm, and helped her try on eye shadow, lipstick and blush. Brooke bought at least two make-up products each week, starting her beauty arsenal.
The blond and brunette always spent the day laughing and enjoying each other’s quirks and differences. Peyton wished it could always be like this, and Brooke did too. Because no matter what happened, they felt that they could count on each other for make-up and CD Tuesdays, always.
Fourth grade was the first time Brooke’s parent’s abandoned her completely. She was left alone in her big house, and it felt unbelievably lonely. Her nine year old self could not comprehend their reasons for leaving her and not bringing her along, or having her stay somewhere else, like with Peyton.
But at night, when she got scared and fear filled her every limb, she found strength enough to call Peyton’s house, and was able to fall asleep, listening to her best friend’s soothing voice, knowing she was there to keep her safe, and that she wasn’t alone. Brooke had the blond a few streets over.
The summer before fifth grade, little red dots began to appear on Peyton’s pale arms, elbows and legs. Soon, the blond was digging her fingernails gently into her flesh, rubbing furiously, back and forth.
A day later, Brooke began to notice light red bumps creating paths up her own arms and legs. The two girls showed Mr. Sawyer this, clearly confused, only to realize that they had the chicken-pox and couldn’t itch them. He took Brooke into his home and watched over the girls, making sure they stayed safe until the disease was no longer contagious.
Brooke and Peyton spent the week distracting one another from itching by making up stories to tell each other and singing songs, laughing at the top of their lungs. They decided being sick was much more enjoyable with your best friend.
A week before their last year of elementary school was scheduled to begin, Brooke’s dad offered his daughter and her best friend a sailing trip on the Davis’ boat.
The girls jumped up and down at the news and packed way too many outfits, especially since they were just going out for one day. Brooke helped teach Peyton all about boat safety before they left (she did not want anything terrible to happen to the petite blond, Brooke would take any precaution to protect her), and Peyton helped Brooke practice her swimming skills (for mostly the same reason).
When they sailed around the beach with Mr. Davis, the brunette and blond laughed constantly, making jokes with one another, speaking in such a way that nobody else was privileged to their special day.
In sixth grade the classes at Tree Hill Junior High had a unit where they studied insects. Brooke had always detested the creatures, finding them gross and scary. But when they raised their own butterflies, she warmed up to them. She named her butterfly Missy and released her when the day came, but that weekend she missed her sort of pet.
Peyton grabbed the brunette’s arm and dragged her outside to the field where the sixth grade classes had gone to free the butterflies. There, she helped Brooke catch some, look at them and give them back to nature. By the end of the day, Brooke was smiling and happy, and that made Peyton happy too.
One day, all the students were assigned to make a poster describing themselves. Peyton had brought her new colored pencil set to school, having received it over the winter holiday. Her curls were bouncier than usual as she embarked on pouring her favorite things into the project.
It did not take her long to notice Brooke sitting with a frown across from her at the table. “What’s wrong?” Peyton asked softly, looking intently at her best friend.
“I forgot my markers” Brooke whined with an exasperated sigh, putting her head on her desk in drama queen Brooke fashion.
Peyton just slide her new colored pencils over, watching the brunette’s face light up at the offering. Peyton had never shared her artistic tools with anyone before, she was much too protective of them, but she was offering them to Brooke. She would do anything for Brooke.
At the end of that school year, Tree Hill thought that it was time to give each student a small tree to plant and grow in their backyard. Neither Brooke or Peyton understood this tradition, except for the fact that it helped their environment (and even then Brooke saw no point, most of the trees would be dead in the next two weeks anyway).
They decided to plant their trees close to each other in Brooke's backyard. Peyton convinced her friend to water them everyday and take care of the plants even though the brunette thought it was futile. Soon, they were secure and stable, just like their friendship, ready to grow and bloom a little bit more everyday.
The summer before seventh grade, Brooke decided to throw a little sleepover party at her house. At this point, she had accepted the fact that her parent’s no longer cared about her enough to worry. So, when the girls arrived, Brooke ushered them inside and had them playing stupid games, like twister.
She looked as them grimly, thinking how innocent and naive they all were. Peyton stood next to Brooke, knowing that they had endured far more pain then all the other girls’ combined. Maybe that’s a reason the blonde and brunette connected so well, they both understood suffering and abandonment.
Growing bored with the games, Brooke grabbed a piece of vanilla cake with her bare hand and tossed it lightly at Peyton, hitting her shoulder. The girl turned to look at Brooke, a questioningly look on her face. The brunette just smiled back devilishly.
Peyton grabbed a chunk herself, throwing it into the sea of girls sitting on the floor, starting a food fight. Mounds of cake flew around the room, pretzels and Cheeto's scattered the floor and whipped cream now resided in many of the girls’ hair. Brooke and Peyton just smiled at each other. Being innocent and reckless felt good sometimes.
When Peyton’s grandparents came into town visit her, they had insisted on meeting the infamous Brooke and taking the family to church. Neither girl was very religious, and when Peyton asked her best friend to go with her, Brooke said yes, because Peyton needed someone.
They sat next to each other in the pew, listening quietly to the sounds of a chapel and mass and how people who were truly good thought. People who believed in something greater than themselves and were inspired to do good for everyone else. In the middle of the sermon, Brooke reached over and grabbed Peyton’s hand, squeezing it lightly. The brunette knew her best friend was thinking about her Mom. Churches always made Peyton think of her Mom.
The week after seventh grade started and the week before Peyton’s dad was leaving his daughter alone, Mr. Sawyer took his daughter and her best friend camping. He wanted to share something he loved with Peyton, to make her remember how much he cared about her, even though he was going away for a while.
The two girls slept next to each other in a tent, whispering softly when Mr. Sawyer drifted off to sleep about how they hated camping. They did not like the bugs, or the fact that all the toilets were holes in the ground. But they put on cheerful faces in the morning to make Peyton’s dad happy. And when Peyton began to cry silently the night before they were headed back to Tree Hill, Brooke climbed into the blonde’s sleeping bag and held her while she cried.
Halfway through seventh grade, Brooke was told she needed braces. The news came as a shock to the girl, who always thought the metal contraption was for ugly people, and she most certainly did not think she was ugly. She almost ditched her appointment with the orthodontist all together.
But Peyton told her it was for the best and tagged along to the appointment, holding Brooke’s hand and convincing her that braces suited her, that she still looked amazing with all that metal in her mouth.
For the first week, Peyton scooped ice cream for Brooke to eat, made her macaroni and cheese, ravioli, and noodles, anything her best friend could eat without too much pain.
Eventually, Brooke fell in love with soap operas. Peyton had always mocked them, finding them over dramatic and cliché. But when Brooke placed her hands on her hips, tilted her head and pouted, the blonde couldn’t refuse. She sat perched on the couch, eating popcorn, completely enthralled with Days of Our Lives and General Hospital.
They both promised never to tell anyone else about their short lived love affair with the shows, but they loved them just the same, probably because they made their own lives seem simpler, better, and with less loss.
That summer, Brooke and Peyton decided that their rooms both needed a major overhaul. So Brooke planned out how to redesign their spaces to look cooler, better, more fitting for almost high school girls.
When they began to paint their rooms together, putting up shelves for Peyton’s music collection, which had grown to a monstrous size by now, and organizing Brooke’s own collection of clothes and make-up, they felt more connected. As best friends, this was like a rite of passage or something, telling each other that they were so permanent that they would be apart of each other’s rooms. Their sacred spaces. Maybe it was too over dramatic (a consequence of the soap operas, Peyton thought), but Brooke and Peyton did not care one bit.
A fair came to Tree Hill that summer, and Peyton told Brooke that she was deathly afraid of heights. The brunette just winked at her best friend, and marched her over to the Ferris wheel, making her sit down, and placing herself next to the blonde. She held her best friend’s hand tightly and told her she would have to face her fear someday, she always would.
And when the girls stopped at the top, because luck seemed to hate Peyton that day, Brooke smiled at her and told her it would be okay, and it would be over in a couple of minutes. The blonde just gazed into Brooke’s deep brown eyes, afraid to look anywhere else. The brunette was the only comfort she had at that moment, and the only comfort she needed.
Before eighth grade year began, Brooke got the idea to run everyday with Peyton. She tried to convince the blonde that it would improve their chances of making the cheerleading team in high school, and impressing the junior high cheerleaders. Peyton sighed, not understanding her best friend’s fascination with cheering, but agreeing to run anyway.
It seemed running with Brooke made Peyton’s life easier, she felt better and more in sync with herself, and the world. The blonde and brunette ran at the exact same pace, breathing with one another and not competing to see who could run further of longer or faster. They just ran until their lungs felt like giving out, and miraculously, it always happened at the same time.
When their last year of junior high started, Brooke and Peyton found themselves crushing on the same boy. They both stared in class, trying to make their crush less obvious. And when they told each other who they liked, they both stopped liking him. Because if they both liked him, only one of them could have him, and they would not hurt each other like that, not for a boy.
And thus, hoes over bros began. Because Brooke would always be there for Peyton, and Peyton would always be there for Brooke, and no boy could really ruin that.
Eventually, Brooke’s lack of study skills and motivation in school teamed up against her. She needed to get a B on her next math test to pass. She tried to put on a brave face and act nonchalant about the whole ordeal, but she didn’t want to fail math and be stuck with all the idiots next year.
So, she asked the only person she trusted to help her study. Peyton came over three days straight before the test, explaining concepts, helping her friend do homework that she had never done as a review. And when Brooke got an answer correct, Peyton gave her a quarter, which worked well for the brunette. She made nine dollars in those three days, and got her B on the test.
When Spring Break finally came, Brooke and Peyton headed off to cheer camp for a week. After much whining and begging, the brunette had convinced her best friend to accompany her. Besides, Brooke knew that somewhere deep down in Peyton’s seemingly cynical soul, she liked cheerleading, no matter how much she denied it.
At camp, Brooke and Peyton were the popular ones, the girls that everyone wanted to sit with at lunch, and be seen talking to. They found this funny, but accepted it, and Brooke grew quite fond of being worshiped. They ended up teaching the girls moves and coming up with their own unique cheers together.
On their way back home the Sunday before school was to resume, Brooke smiled at Peyton, thanking her without a word.
Peyton’s web cam broke one day and she couldn’t see her Dad on the computer screen anymore. This upset the blonde, and the only person she trusted enough to tell this to was her best friend.
Brooke used the internet to figure out how to fix the stupid thing, and offered some of her own money to buy what they needed, after deciding it was easy to fix it, and cheaper this way, not that either girl was worried about money. They spent the night reconnecting Peyton to her father. Finally, it was all better and the two girls collapsed onto Peyton’s bed at four-thirty in the morning.
On the last day of eighth grade, Brooke and Peyton locked themselves into Brooke’s house and spent the entire day watching movies. Alternating back and forth choosing the movies. Their tastes were quite different; Brooke preferred the romantic comedies where the heroine always found true love somehow. While Peyton always chose the dark dramas that made Brooke feel so depressed.
Ultimately, it didn’t matter what movie they viewed as the two spent the day escaping from the world and just being safe with one another.
Before they were to start high school, Brooke wanted to perfect her look, and she wanted to perfect Peyton’s too. First thing to deal with was their hair.
The brunette had always wondered what she would look like with bouncy curls like her best friend, so one day she had Peyton heat up a curling iron and attempt to twist her hair perfectly. It didn’t go as well as planned though. Brooke’s dark brown locks were pointing in all different directions, curled so tightly that they made her head hurt. So apparently, tight curls weren’t for Brooke after all.
However, she wasn’t giving up on Peyton’s hair quest just because hers had failed. When Brooke tried to straighten the blonde’s hair, it ended up looking frizzy and puffy. Peyton had screamed at her, saying it would take days to go back to normal. Brooke apologized before bursting into a fit of giggles. Peyton quickly followed suit.
Hey, if they were going to look ridiculous, at least they looked it together.
A week or so later, Brooke tore through Peyton’s closet and her own, finding old clothing items from sixth and seventh grade that still fit the girls. When Peyton raised her eyebrows questioningly, Brooke just flashed a wicked grin.
The two worked all week trying to fix up the clothes, making them look unique and new. Sometimes their ideas worked and turned out well. Other times, it was a disaster and had to be tossed in the garbage.
And when Brooke still wasn’t satisfied with their wardrobe selection, she just dragged Peyton with her to the mall.
The first day of high school had not turned out well for Peyton. Sure, Brooke had worked well, made them part of the popular freshman clique, but it didn’t matter. She had lost her way around the school too many times to count, had been late to almost all her classes, and the teachers were understanding, of course, but that did not help. Everyone still stared at her when she entered, judging her instantly. That’s how it worked.
The blonde hadn’t been able to open her locker and had lost her lunch money, so the moment she reached Brooke’s house, she made herself a sandwich and cried.
She cried for herself, she cried for everyone who was judged so quickly, and she cried for Brooke who had to deal with her and her weakness. But the brunette didn’t seem to mind. She just held Peyton and whispered words of encouragement. Brooke hated to see her best friend so broken up. She told Peyton that she could be strong, that she was strong and that tomorrow would be better.
And Peyton believed her.
That night, the blonde stayed over at her best friend’s house and when she woke up the next morning, Brooke was spooning her. When she turned to face her best friend she smiled, “I’m better now”
“Good.” Brooke smiled back, ecstatic to see her best friend happy once again.
One weekend, Brooke got the idea in her head to make a scrapbook about her relationship with Peyton thus far. She bought all the materials she thought she needed and went to the blonde’s house.
Charging in through the door, she practically skipped up to Peyton’s room and let herself in “Hi, bestest friend!”
“What’s got you so perky today?” Peyton looked up from her computer where she had been composing an email.
Brooke explained her idea, and just laughed when Peyton scoffed and said it was stupid. Brooke ignored the girl and set herself up on the floor, beginning to put the scrapbook together. Eventually, Peyton was enticed enough to look at the progress that her friend had made. A smile spread across her face as she remembered all the good times they had shared together.
Peyton sat down cross-legged on floor and began to help.
The summer before sophomore year, Peyton decided to help Brooke watch a scary movie, which one wasn’t important. The blonde had heard many times about how her best friend hated scary movies, but had always wanted to see one, just for the sake of having that experience in life. Peyton always found that rather amusing.
She knew that Brooke would never watch one on her own accord, and without someone there to convince her that it was just a movie. She just wanted to do something for her friend, anything really.
Brooke came over and braved the fear, screaming many times and hiding her head in Peyton’s shoulder, but she had seen a scary movie, and was a bouncing bunny afterwards, obviously pleased with herself.
“Fine! I’ll help you.” Brooke was tired of hearing Peyton complain about how her expansive music collection was so unorganized and she could not find anything when she was looking for it. The brunette did not look forward to being bitched at because she wasn’t being ‘careful enough’ with the one of a kind records and such. But she would help anyway, because that’s just what friends do.
It took the girls all weekend to fix the problem, but when it was all finished, Peyton was happy and Brooke just wanted to go home and play some Madonna, anything that wasn’t emo.
In gym class sophomore year, the teacher thought it would be fun to do relay races. All the girls groaned at the thought of hopping in sacks. When it was announced that the first race was piggyback, most of the class began to protest that it was unsafe. But Peyton just walked over to Brooke, smiling. They had this one down pat.
When the race started, Brooke hopped on her best friend’s back and they waddled down the grassy field, three feet in front of everyone else. Switching places on the other side, Brooke carried Peyton back. Winning the race, they received extra credit, neither cared though as they laughed at the people who were still trying to finish.
As best friends, they had perfected the piggyback ride long ago, it was symbolic too, Peyton knew it was. They carried one another through life when their parents weren’t there for them, and they would win. They could do anything together.
Brooke and Peyton decided to attend homecoming with a group of friends instead of dates, many older girls had told them it was much more fun that way, so they believed them. Their group went out to dinner at a restaurant downtown and headed to the dance quickly.
When they arrived, Brooke dragged Peyton into the mosh pit of grinders and danced with her best friend, laughing, singing and just having fun. They didn’t leave until the dance had ended, they were both sweaty, and their legs felt ready to give out.
The brunette learned how to drive before Peyton did and took it upon herself to teach her best friend, even if she was not supposed to. When Peyton sat behind the wheel, fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, eyes squinted, Brooke laughed and told her to relax. She explained what to do and they practice driving around the deserted parking lot.
When Peyton was comfortable and stopped leaning forward to look out the windshield, they took the light blue beetle out onto the road. Peyton wasn’t a reckless driver, she was safe and didn’t speed at all, but as they finished her hours, she started to speed up. The blonde was less cautious and careful, less aware of her surroundings. She relaxed and didn’t watch for other vehicles, Brooke told her that was bad. She didn’t listen, except when her bet friend was with her. Because Peyton could stand hurting herself, but she would never dare hurt Brooke.
The two girls attended the annual boat burning in Tree Hill that year. Each one had thrown in something they wanted to dispose of, Peyton tossed the clothes she had worn the day her mother died and Brooke tossed in a picture of her parents smiling with her when she was a baby. Neither wanted to be reminded of the bad times anymore, they just wanted to move on.
They held hands and they watched everything be consumed by fire and smoke, looking grateful for a chance to forget.
During the end of tenth grade Brooke and Peyton attended a party being thrown by the head cheerleader, whom Brooke greatly admired. When the girl offered the sophomores beers, they took them, uneasily eying one another.
Brooke was the first to take a swing, gulping it down and squeezing her eyes shut, Peyton followed suit a minute later. The alcohol seemed to burn their throats and numb a little of the pain at the same time. They both decided they liked the effect, and walked around the rest of the night, beer bottle in one hand, clasping their other hands together. They leaned on each other for support, and just because.
That summer, they decided it was time to take a road trip. Filling the blonde’s car with clothes, make-up, pillows and anything else they needed, the two took off shortly after school let out. They did not have a destination in mind, and it didn’t really matter where they went, neither girl cared.
Peyton cranked the stereo, singing along to the music as Brooke sat shotgun flipping through fashion magazines, telling her best friend about all the latest trends. They didn’t see much of anything as they traveled around the Carolina’s, Georgia, Alabama and Tennessee, but both girls still thought of it as one of the best vacations. Just relaxing and being together made the trip worth it.
The last weekend before they were to start school again, Brooke surprised Peyton by taking her to a spa. She was pleasantly shocked that the blonde did not protest the trip, immediately lighting up at the thought of relaxing, wearing fuzzy white robes and getting facials.
Brooke took a little more convincing when it came to taking a mud bath, she was completely repulsed by it, but Peyton convinced her and when the brunette was finished, she vowed never to look at mud the same way again. Before they departed, Peyton wrapped her best friend into a tight embrace, thanking her for giving her a chance to escape for a few days.
On the first day of junior year, Brooke huffed into her best friends room, complaining about how she had nothing to wear, throwing practically her whole closet on the bed.
Peyton chucked at the brunette, offering her own closet and looking through what Brooke had tossed on the bed. They ended up wearing something of each others, and Peyton liked that. She was able to smell the faint scent of Brooke on her all day long, it made her happy and caused her to feel as if everything would always be okay.
After a hard night of partying, Brooke had blacked out, letting Peyton catch her before she hit the ground. She woke up to the smell of breakfast. Slowly, she opened her eyes and was immediately welcomed with a pounding in her head. She groaned and looked at the clock, it was after noon.
When the brunette turned her head to the left, she was greeted with a smiling blonde holding a plate of French toast, bacon and eggs, and some Advil. Brooke offered a small smile and gulped down the pill with a glass of water, before digging into her toast. She felt safe and loved with Peyton there watching out for her. She always did.
After all the Lucas drama had passed, Valentine’s Day arrived and Brooke found a box of chocolates inside her locker. She could not help the smile that crept on her face as she read her best friend’s vow of newly regained loyalty. It wasn’t a note that was going to change the world, it was sincere though and that was better. Because it was real and genuine and Brooke knew it was all true.
The brunette had given Peyton a pair of teddy bears, sewn together in a hug. ‘Best Friends’ was printed in red on them, and that gave the blonde hope. She knew that they would survive this, and get back to how they used to be, because it was obvious that both girls desperately wanted that.
Brooke smiled at Lucas, standing in front of her, nodding towards Peyton, telling him that it was okay. In a way, it made her happy knowing that her best friend would be loved by someone she loved back. But it broke Brooke’s heart too, because she still loved Lucas, and she missed him terribly, everyday. Lying about him had become second nature to the brunette.
But it was worth the heartache to see Peyton smile again, to watch her eyes sparkle and come alive. It was most definitely worth it.