Remember the time we has soda for wine,

we got by on gratitude,
worst they could do to you was check you attitude,
yeah when fights were for fun, we had water and guns,

and a place we could all our own

Pretend – Lights

.&.

"Remember when we where seven?" He asks, awkwardly sitting beside her, it's night, but they're still at the Asphalt Café, sitting on a table, looking up at the stars.

"Shut up and pick up that plastic bag." She says as she stands up and starts cleaning the table they were sitting on. "It's your entire stupid fault, if you hadn't cut in front of me in the line I wouldn't have punched you, you freak." She says in disgust as she's force to clean up what appeared to be the remains of a taco. He hears how her heels click against the concrete floor.

"You didn't answer my question." He bluntly points out, he gets of the table and picks up a broom, today, Hollywood Arts student body decided to have a massive food fight after Trina punched him in the face. "I asked you if you remember when we were seven."

"Yeah, Sinjin, I do." She swallows her disgust as she picks up a rotten pizza. "Why the sudden curiosity?" She throws it away, takes off the protective gloves and sits down and starts trimming her nails, with a roll of his eyes, Sinjin keeps sweeping.

"We used to live close, sometimes we bought soda at the grocery store and then went to the old park down by South and we used to swing on the swing set." He looks up at the sky; he hardly sees stars due to the light all around LA. "You used to be scared of butterflies."

Trina Vega looks up at the sky too, she does remember, that's what scares her the most. She remembers purple dresses, yellow flowers on her hair and a less creepy Sinjin by her side, dressed in a red vest, white polo and short black pants. His knees were scrapped with dirt and just a little wound but he would always try to pick her up to she could catch some leaves from the tree. Then she got a acceptance letter at Hollywood Arts at thirteen, they he got one at fourteen. They've never been the same seven year olds again. They were never kids again.

They drifted apart.

"Don't mention it to anyone, Sinjin." She hears him laugh. "I mean it."

He just smiles, eyes glued to the floor, curly hair all around him, his glasses almost falling out of his nose, but he still smiles. "Sure, Trina, sure."