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Big Stuf knew that Strawberry Milkshake was insecure about fitting in with the other cookies at Oreo High School for Boys, since his pink filling made him stand out as different. Big Stuf himself had worried about it a little when he had been a freshman, being bigger than the other cookies, and having to listen to more than his fair share of fat jokes, but when he had become captain of the milk swimming team, the bullying had stopped. Strawberry hadn’t found his niche yet, though, and even Big Stuf’s best friend Double Stuf had been heard to say mean things about him behind his back, though never to his face—Double was too much of a gentleman for that.
The school had other students with different filling colors, but nobody else’s was pink, and most of the boys thought pink was for girls. They teased Strawberry about his “girly” filling color and, since he was so shy, it only made him blush even pinker until he would finally stammer something about art class and run away.
Big Stuf didn’t say anything to his friends about it, but he thought Strawberry’s pink filling was really cute. He thought Strawberry was adorable, actually, the way he looked down when someone was talking to him, the way his voice, so soft when Mr. Original called on him in class, would grow in strength and volume as he answered the question, becoming more sure of himself, but still quieter than most of the other cookies’ normal speaking voices. Strawberry was really smart, much smarter than Big Stuf, but nobody else seemed to think that was as important as sports like milk swimming or cross kitchen. Big Stuf thought he was probably the only cookie in school, besides the teachers, who thought Strawberry Milkshake was anything special at all.
The big homecoming dance was coming up, and it was Oreo’s turn to host this year. All the boys wanted to make the gymnasium look really good to impress the girls from Milano Prep, the fancy girls’ school on the other side of the pantry. While Big Stuf wasn’t on the dance committee himself, Double was, so he’d been drafted to help with the decorations. He wasn’t much good at art, but he was very big and strong, so he was mostly in charge of gathering supplies and bringing them to the gym.
One day after school, the committee needed more paint for the banners, so Big Stuf headed down to the art room to get some. As he reached that end of the hallway, he saw that the light was on, which seemed odd but not overly so. Someone had probably just forgotten to turn it off after seventh period. It didn’t even occur to him that someone might be inside.
But someone was.
Big Stuf stopped dead in the doorway. There was Strawberry, frowning in concentration, carefully applying oil pastels to a large canvas. Big Stuf couldn’t see what he was drawing, but he could see that there were smudges of different colored pigments on Strawberry’s surface and edges; art was messy work.
Strawberry glanced up from his work, noticing that someone was in the doorway, and started to say, “Oh, Mr. Organic, I just need—” But then he saw that it was Big Stuf, and he froze, his filling blushing pinker than usual.
“I’m sorry,” Big Stuf said. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I have to get some paint for the decorations.”
“It’s in Mr. Organic’s office,” said Strawberry, staring down at his canvas and slowly turning pinker still.
“Is it locked?” said Big Stuf, and Strawberry nodded, but didn’t look up. “I guess I’ll have to wait,” Big Stuf said, moving further into the room. “You’re working awfully hard in here. Can I see what you’re drawing?”
Strawberry looked at him quickly, then away. Big Stuf hadn’t seen his filling this pink since some of the boys on the cross kitchen team had cornered him in the hallway the second week of school. Big Stuf hadn’t heard what they were saying, but it must not have been very nice at all.
“I—I guess so,” said Strawberry, still not looking at Big Stuf.
Big Stuf moved around behind Strawberry to look at the canvas. It was obviously not finished, but it was just as obviously part of the swimming glass, and there was a cookie in the milk, just reaching the end of his lap. That looked like—
Big Stuf stared.
“Is that—is that me?” he said.
Strawberry wouldn’t look at him. His filling was very pink indeed now.
“I—I’ll stop working on it,” he said.
“No, don’t do that, it’s really good,” said Big Stuf. “Have you been watching us practice?”
“I’m sorry,” said Strawberry. “I’ll—I know I shouldn’t have—”
“You even put in the little broken bit on my back,” said Big Stuf, looking closer at the picture. “Most cookies don’t even notice it.”
Strawberry hugged the canvas against his front and moved away. “I—I’ll change it, I’ll make it look like it’s not—I just—”
“Hey,” Big Stuf interrupted. “It’s okay. I’m not embarrassed about my broken bit. Just about everyone has one somewhere, it’s part of what makes me who I am.”
“You’re not mad?” Strawberry asked.
“Why would I be mad?” said Big Stuf.
Strawberry shrugged. “I think—most boys would be pretty mad,” he said, “to have someone like me watching them enough to notice a little broken bit like that.”
“You’re an artist,” said Big Stuf, startling Strawberry into looking up at him. “You’re probably used to observing everyone around you that way, right? Are you doing a series of pictures of the milk swimming team or something?”
Strawberry looked away again. “No, I—well—it’s probably good that you don’t understand…”
Big Stuf didn’t; he was getting pretty confused. And then he realized— “You mean,” he said slowly. “You mean you’ve just been watching…me?”
“I—I swear I’ll stop,” Strawberry whispered. “Please don’t tell anybody, they’ll—”
Big Stuf moved closer to Strawberry, bumping against his side gently. “Hey,” he said. “It’s okay, Strawberry.”
Strawberry looked up at him. “Really?”
“Sure,” said Big Stuf. He coughed, looking away. Being big and strong, he’d never been scared of much of anything, but this kind of bravery was different—this was harder. “I’ve…I’ve been watching you, too.”
“You have?”
Big Stuf bumped him again, just lightly, wishing he dared to interlock their edges together. “Ever since you came here,” he said. “I’ve never met anybody like you.”
“I’ve never met anybody like you, either,” Strawberry whispered, hesitantly bumping him back.
Big Stuf looked over at him, then away again.
“The truth is, Strawberry,” he said. “The truth is, well. I think you’re really cute.”
“You do?” said Strawberry, brushing their edges together lingeringly. “Really?”
“Really,” said Big Stuf. He took a deep breath and nudged one of his edges between Strawberry’s, startling a little squeak out of the other cookie. “Sorry,” he said, starting to pull away, but Strawberry held on.
“Don’t be,” he said, and when Big Stuf looked at him he was still blushing but he looked really happy, too. “I’m not.”