"What are you doing out here?"

Freddie stepped out of the sliding door, glancing out at Sam who sat on the ledge. She looked up at Freddie and shrugged.

"Thought I'd let Carly have fun at her goodbye party. I'll be seeing her all tomorrow anyway."

After seemingly dozens of acceptances to practically every college Carly applied to, she finally settled for Boise State University as a broadcast journalism major. However, because of the university's program, she needed to start at the beginning of the summer to start on track.

"How… kind of you."

"You know me, I'm incredibly sweet."

"Right," Freddie laughed. "Oh, I brought you food."

Sam quickly turned toward him, grabbing the plate out of his hand in one fluid motion and began chowing down. Freddie look at her in surprise, then just shook his head, dropping to sit next to her.

"What? Being noble is hunger-inducing."

"Everything is hunger-inducing for you."

"'Tis true, Fredhead. Now, hand over the Peppy Cola."

He handed over the beverage, and watched as Sam gulped it down. He thought it should probably make him more disgusted than it did, but it was Sam he was talking about. She acted like this on a daily basis – if he wasn't used to it by now, then something had to be seriously wrong with him.

"So… uh…" Freddie started, and then trailed off, unsure.

"What are you stuttering about, Freddifer?" Sam asked through mouthfuls of mashed potatoes.

"I was just, uh… wondering…" Freddie cleared his throat. "Are you okay, Sam?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, with Carly leaving and all…"

Sam stopped gnawing on her chicken leg and looked over at Freddie. She slowly put her food down and turned to him. "Okay, you better listen up, because I'm only going to say this once. No, I'm not too thrilled she's leaving. Honestly, I don't know if I'm going to be able to handle it. But, I have to, don't I? And you bringing it up makes it really hard to avoid thinking about it. Got it?"

Freddie nodded. "Good." She sighed, going back to devouring her potatoes.

"Have you been thinking about where you want to go?" Freddie asked, and Sam groaned.

"What, do you have a one-track mind or something? Can't we talk about the weather or some other chiz? I really don't want to be thinking about all that right now, at my best friend's going-away party."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I get it." He stopped, unsure of what to say next. Sam didn't seem to be planning on breaking the silence, so he cleared his throat.

"So, uhh… nice weather we're having, huh?"

Sam stared at him for a moment. Then, all of a sudden, she burst into laughter, causing Freddie to follow suit. Soon, they were leaning against one another, Freddie's hand somehow ending up resting on her the back of her head, fingering her curls.

Finally, they calmed down. Neither seemed to acknowledge the fact that Sam had her head on Freddie's shoulder, nor that Freddie hadn't moved his hand away from Sam's hair, and was subconsciously running his fingers through it.

Or, at least, they didn't move away.

"Okay, I have an idea," stated Sam.

"Uh oh."

"Shut up." She elbowed him gently, laughing a little. "Okay, so we have the whole summer before you go off to your big special school, right?" She waited to feel the movement of his nod of confirmation, as she still had her head on his shoulder. "So, we're going to play a game."

Freddie shook his head, "Sam, we are not playing Boomba again!"

Laughing, Sam rolled her eyes, "Relax, that's not the game." She explained, mindlessly picking at the fray of his pants pocket. "Okay, so it's called truth. It's like truth or dare but without the dare option. Which, admittedly, makes it seem less fun, but it can still be good. So we just ask each other questions until someone refuses to answer. Then they lose."

Freddie shrugged, "All right, I'll cave. So, do you want to start?"

"No, no," Sam shook her head, "That's the boring way."

"Of course it is." He deadpanned.

"We have to make it more interesting. So, every question has to be written, and every answer has to be given verbally."

"Uh…" Freddie stared at her, "why?"

"Because it's better. You're first."

Groaning, he took out his phone, and Sam lifted her head from him, "All right, fine." He typed something out and hit send. "There you go."

After a moment, Sam's phone buzzed. She took it out and read the message, and snorted. "Come on, Benson, really?"

"What?" He asked, his eyebrows raised.

"What's your favorite color? Seriously? I think you were just immediately disqualified."

Freddie groaned, "Ugh, fine. You want something better?" Freddie whipped his phone out again and angrily typed another message. He jabbed the send button and dropped his phone on the table in front of them. "There."

When Sam received the message, she paused, and then shook her head slowly. "I, uh… not yet. I'll answer that later in the game, okay?"

Freddie sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry."

Sam shrugged, appearing unaffected. "It's cool. One more try."

"Err… okay…" Freddie replied, staring at his phone dumbly.

"Oh, come on. There's got to be a question you've always wanted to ask me. Here's your chance. And I can't get mad and beat you up because then I'll lose. And Mama never loses."

Freddie laughed, shaking his head. "Okay, I got one. " He quickly typed it out, and instead of sending, just handed his phone to Sam.

She looked down, read it, smirked, then looked back at him, her eyes bright. "Yes, Freddie, I really do have a twin."

Freddie shook his head, smirking, "Oh, no. You're going to have to prove it. I need a fully supported answer."

"How am I supposed to-" Sam started, but cut off, looking down at her own phone. "Wait…" She began toying with it for a minute, before holding it up triumphantly. "Aha! Here you go."

He took her phone, staring at a picture of the two girls. He spotted Sam easily, her hair cascaded down her back decked in khaki shorts and sneakers. The one beside her, obviously Melanie, looked similar, yet much more enthusiastic to be taking the picture, as her arms were wrapped around Sam's shoulders while she smiled broadly, adorned in pink.

"Okay, I believe you. So, does that mean I went on a date with…?" He asked, hesitantly.

"Melanie. Obviously."

"Right." He sighed, "Did she ever tell you what, uh, happened on that date?"

"She… might have mentioned it," She replied innocently.

Freddie just shook his head, not willing to relive it. "Okay, well, it's your turn now."

Sam nodded, putting her finger to her chin and tapping it, deep in thought. Suddenly, she sat up straighter, looking around her frantically for a minute. Then, she grabbed a napkin off the table and held her hand out to Freddie, expectantly.

"Err… what?" He asked, unsure.

She responded impatiently. "I need a pen."

"Well, I don't have one."

"Then go get one!"

"Why can't you just text it to me?"

"Because that's predictable and boring. Mama doesn't roll that way."

He rolled his eyes, making a big show of standing up and stretching. "Oh, for the love of nubs, just go."

After a minute of searching the studio, he came back with a pencil. "Here."

Sam nodded to him, taking it and scribbling furiously onto the napkin. "You're welcome." He said, sarcastically.

She just handed him the napkin in response.

"Do you think Carly is "the one"?" He read, then suddenly burst out laughing, almost spewing his soda everywhere. "Are you kidding?"

"No, why would I be? You're in love with her and-"

"I'm not in love with Carly."

Sam rolled her eyes, "Oh, give me a break."

"I'm not! Sure, I had a crush on her when I was fourteen, but I got over that. It was more like puppy love – I didn't know what real love was at fourteen."

"Oh, and now you do?"

He shrugged, looking at her intently, "I think I have an idea."

Obviously uncomfortable, Sam dropped her gaze. "It's your turn now."

Once Freddie finally got home that night, after hours of back and forth questions, laughter, teasing, and, surprisingly, no injuries, he lied in bed, flipping through his messages until he came to the one he sent Sam that she refused to answer. He mentally kicked himself for being such an asshole. Why would he even ask that?

What happened to your dad?