When I explained everything to Mason, she absolutely FLIPPED OUT. She continues to ramble on about how she wants me to get her Misha's autograph (Misha Collins is her favorite person ever) and how she is so insanely jealous that I get to live around my long time idols, and she doesn't. I told her it would be perfectly fine if she came to visit sometimes.

"It's not fair!" She groans. "I want to live next door to Misha Collins, too!" She whines. "How, after all these years, did you not notice that your mom's maiden name was Cortese?" I lower my eyebrows at her, irritated with her attitude.

"Well, you didn't notice either," I argue. "By the way, I'm not getting anyone's autograph for you, okay? I'm not even gonna tell them I watch the show."

"What?" She asks. "You can't lie to them."

"I won't lie to them; I just won't tell them the truth. That's not the same thing, so I think I'm in the clear." I set my English essay on the corner of my desk as I finish it. This is the very last assignment we are having in English besides the final. I'm not too worried about it actually, considering English is very easy for me. "Hey, are you finished with this yet?" Mason doesn't even look up from her book as she replies.

"Haven't even started," she mumbles, and I roll my eyes. It surprises me how much she doesn't care about school, yet she is passing all of her classes. "Oh, okay. So are you just going to like, become best friends with them, and then tell them you are obsessed with them?" I groan in frustration as I try to finish the last few sentences of my essay.

"Are you kidding? I can barely order my food in a restaurant. What makes you think I can talk to my idols without a great deal of effort?" She scoffs a little and starts to play the Eminem song called Cinderella Man. This is one of the two songs I actually know by them. "Mason, I don't want to go." At hearing this, she quickly shuts off her music.

"Why not? You'll be living with and next door to your life long idols."

"Yeah, exactly. Think of all the things that could go wrong." All the possibilities of how I could screw this up stream through my head and my hands start shaking. I clench them into fists at my sides, trying to hide them from Mason. "God, I could screw this up so bad," I mumble under my breath, burying my face in my hands. I feel Mason set her hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry about it," she says. "You'll be fine. Actually, you will probably bond with them pretty easily." I peek at her from behind my hands and raise an eyebrow in question. "Seriously, Charlie. You're weird and hilarious like Misha, smart like Jared, and sweet like Jensen. They will love you." I scoff again, rolling my eyes.

"I'm not smart."

"Yeah, you fucking are. You are very mature and responsible and you get all A's in school."

"Knowing grammar or the Pythagorean theory doesn't make a person smart. No one gives a fuck about triangles or verbs." She laughs a little. "I'm serious! Nothing we learn in school will make us smarter! They give us super hard worksheets on stuff that we will never ever need to know and make us feel like shit when we get bad grades."

"You don't get bad grades."

"I did once," I mumble as I start packing my shirts. "Hey, where is that box I had under my bed?"

"Why?" She asks, setting the empty box next to me.

"I'm going to put all of my Supernatural related stuff in here. When I get to my new room, I'll just hide it under my bed." Luckily, it should all fit into this little box. All I have is a pair of pajama pants, a book, a shirt, a necklace, and seasons 1-10 on DVD.

Yeah, I'm going to need a bigger box.

____________

Mason surprisingly decided to stay the night at my house. I thought this was kind of weird 'cause we have school tomorrow...???? I decide not to argue with her because I can just drive us to school tomorrow morning.

"Charlie?" She asks at about ten thirty.

"Go to sleep," I reply groggily, my eyes closing. I hear her shifting around on the couch.

"I'm sorry, Charlie." My eyes open a little and I lower my eyebrows at her, lifting my head up from the pillow. "I never thank you for stuff. You are seriously the best friend I've ever had." I groan in frustration.

"Oh, my chuck. Go the fuck to sleep."

"Okay, I'll talk. You don't have to listen." I drop my head against the pillow, silently praying that she won't get all nice and emotional when I'm this tired and exhausted. "When I was depressed, I never ever left the house. I seriously wanted to die. But then you started to come over every day and you would drag me out of the house. You would make me tag along with you and watch as you did the dumbest, most embarrassing things."

"Do you have a point?" I mumble.

"You have always been here for me," she continues. "Even when I've been a jerk, lied to you... you always help me when I need it. And you never let anyone talk shit about me. Why can't I do the same for you?" I flip over so I'm laying on my back and stare at the ceiling through the dark, my eyes now open.

"I don't need it as much as you do." This is totally a lie, but I would never admit it to anyone, even Mason. I think I don't let people be that nice to me is because I feel like I don't deserve it. This makes it very difficult when I see people cuddling and spooning in movies because it actually looks really comforting and I want to do it. But I've never gotten to that place with anyone.

I got so lost in my thoughts I didn't even hear Mason snoring. I stare up at the ceiling, trying not to rethink every single thing I've ever done wrong in my life.

Apparently, I never try hard enough.

____________

You know how everyone says that teenagers are supposed to get like eight hours of sleep each night? Well, if you believe that this is true please point out the teen who gets this much sleep, because I bet you can't.

I finally fell asleep at quarter to three. Mason woke me up around six thirty, saying we need to get ready for school. The first thing I do is head out to the kitchen and dig through the cupboards, looking for a something to eat. When I open the cupboard, a picture falls out.

Why the hell is there a picture in the cupboard?

I lean down and pick it up. It's a picture of me with my mom, taken about ten years ago. The longer I look at it, the more my eyes start to water. I blink the tears away and turn the picture over, setting it on the counter and shaking my head.

"Hey, Charlie," I look up and see Mason's twelve year old sister, Teresa, standing in the doorway, ready to go to school. "Is Mason here?"

"Yeah, she's upstairs getting ready for school, I was gonna give her a ride. You need one, too?" I ask, handing her an apple. They are her favorite; she always eats them before school. She takes the apple, nodding her head as a thank you. I smile a little. Teresa has always been really quiet, which just makes me like her more. She watches Supernatural sometimes with Mason.

"Yeah, thanks. I'm sorry about your mom." I shrug a little, not wanting to talk about it. Mason comes running down the stairs with clean clothes on and her hair all wet from the shower. "Why didn't you tell me where you were? Mom was worried, jerk."

"It's none of your business, bitch," Mason replies, putting her shoes on. I smile a little, finding it adorable that they do the Winchesters jerk-bitch thing. Teresa gives me the most confused look, raising an eyebrow in question.

"7 billion people in the world, and she's your best friend? Really?" I laugh a little as Mason mumbles something inappropriate under her breath. Teresa spins around on the stool and crosses her arms. "What was that, Mason?"

"I said, let's go." She walks out the door, slamming it shut behind her. Teresa and I laugh a little and head out the door, following after Mason.