Roman Holiday

Friday

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Maggie and I stare at the Roman Holiday wall-shrine in her room. There is everything from t-shirts to posters to concert tickets to magazine cut outs to dream boards stretched from one end to the other. It's a testament to her love for the band.

We stand side-by-side, looking up at the massive wall, before she takes the article she cut out from The Juice about us and pins it right in the middle.

"At least the article gives your wall some flavor," I try to joke, although just looking at it makes me want to vomit.

"Yeah." She steps back and admires her work of art. "Hey, bb?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to help me take it down?"

I study my best friend for a long moment. The dark circles under her eyes mirror mine. When we got in at six-thirty this morning, neither of us could sleep so we sat up watching episodes of Supernatural on Netflix. A part of me wishes she'd never come to the beach because, even though she'll never admit it, it destroyed her ideal of the people on her wall, and the articles behind them.

But, then, another part of me is glad I wasn't alone for it. I'm glad she was there, however selfish that might be, and I'm glad I still have a person to call my best friend.

"Sure," I finally reply, and she smiles.

"Awesomesauce!" She perks. "Besides, I totes think it's time to dive into a new fandom. Get on the bandwagon again, travel to where no man has gone before! Ooh, Chris Pine. Now he's a nice piece of ass."

"I dunno, RDJ is pretty hot."

"In that ex-druggie sort of way." She cringes and plucks our article from the middle of the wall. She begins to rip it, but then sets it gingerly on her bed. "Just, uh, don't destroy anything. It totes might be worth something."

"Because a Roman Montgomery PEZ dispenser is valuable," I deadpan as I peel it off the wall from where she double-side-taped it.

"Oh, shut up and start peeling. We have a new shrine to erect!" She begins to name off other bands and actors in the running, and all I can do is shake my head while I take down the ab-licious poster of Roman, and try to remember him as nothing more than a person that I used to know.