For Molly.

"Snow sucks," Sam says one day out of the blue.
Freddie looks at her. They're outside the school, he's walking her home, and it's summer. But it's Sam, so he doesn't question it. Instead, he adjusts his pack and asks her why.

"It's so fragile," she says with a surprising intensity. "It melts at the touch, and it's useless except for it's beauty, everyone loves it and - and I just don't like it." She looks down, then she looks at him. "Why do they call it a special snowflake, anyway? Like they're all that unique. It's just water and dihydrogen monoxide or something."

"Dihydrogen monoxide is water," he reminds her, mostly out of habit than expecting her to learn. "And, I don't know? Snow has uses other than it's beauty." He couldn't think of one, but Sam's not gonna ask him to provide examples, right?

"Oh yeah? Name 'em."She challenges, and he adjusts his pack again. He doesn't like not having the answers. "Uh, they provide the crops warmth during winter? Like little blankets, or something."

Sam laughs, "who are you, Dr. Suess?" She grins at him. And okay, he's defeated this time. Wait until he gets home. though, he's going to research the crap out of it and send her the longest email ever. She won't read it, but Freddie wouldn't feel good not doing it.

"I think it's the fragility that gets me." she continues, "it's so - breakable. Water and ice are strong, water and ice have uses."

"Like crashing the Titanic," Freddie reminds her.

"They're strong, they're willful, they don't take anyone's chiz." Sam goes on like she hasn't heard him. "So how come there's no term, 'special iceberg'? Why is the snowflake so beloved just because it's as frilly as a fradoodle? Sure, ice bergs are respected, but people avoid them and nobody thinks they're beautiful, or worth the time to look, just because they're not approachable. Why doesn't anybody take the time to look?" She says, her eyes determined and still not looking at him.

Oh. And he realizes that he should have known since she started talking. Carly's absence grows more prominent and he makes a decision.

"I think you're pretty, Sam." He stops walking.

Sam turns to look at him for a second, and then thumps him on his head. "We're not talking about me, genius." She looks away again.

Oh, no?

Freddie adjusts his pack and they keep walking.