Earth's gravity was vastly different from space's, so Marshmallow initially wobbled when she climbed out of the Grand Slams rocket.

She'd overheard enough to gather a few things: the second challenge was to build a rocket and save her, and the Grand Slams won.

Both of these things were... annoying, to say the least, but despite the less-than-ideal circumstances (and the fact that MePhone was a jerk), Marshmallow was in good spirits when she saw her team. Lightbulb was the first to notice her: "You may have benefitted from Paintbrush's prejudice today, but that doesn't make them right."

"Whatever," Paintbrush retorted. They stood off to the side, a hand on their hip and their eyes on the sky. "I just hope the others are as lucky as you, Marsh, or we'll be five short going into the next challenge."

One of the newbies raised her hand and interrupted, "Actually, even if they are incompetent, which we don't have ample evidence to confirm, the rocket's route was programmed with a special algorithm. Even if they steer towards the asteroid belt and gas giants beyond, it'll still take them right back to Earth, safe and sound!"

"Nerd," one cherry razzed, as the other laughed. They shrank when Marsh looked at them.

'Thanks for caring I'm back,' Marsh thought sarcastically, right before she heard the sound of a rocket-engine in the sky. It landed a stone's throw away; Yin-Yang tumbled out, punching himself. Apple stumbled off behind him, dropping something and falling face-first into the grass. Fan grabbed whatever fell out of her arms before it could fall with her.

But even as Fan got off the rocket, Apple remained facedown. After a second, Marsh walked over and extended a hand to her. Resisting the (onerously obsolete) urge to kick her, she spoke gently, "You need a hand?"

Apple propped herself up and stared at Marsh for a moment before flying at her. "MARSHMALLOW! You're OK, I'm so glad! I thought you turned into an egg, it was HORRIBLE!"

Marsh stumbled backwards but somehow remained balanced under Apple's weight. It took her a split second to realize it was a hug.

'...At least someone's glad to see me.'

Marsh laughed, pushing Apple away. "Wait, how would I turn into an egg?!"

"Mars is a strange place!" Apple answered brightly. "I'm so glad you're OK, though. I woulda been so sad if you died before we could become friends..."

Marsh raised her eyebrows. "Friends?"

"Yeah!" Apple turned to her with a sunny grin. "I mean, why not? You're pretty cool."

'...She did try her best to rescue me for the challenge,' Marsh thought, and replied, "It's worth a try."

"What do friends do, though?"

Well, all the greatest friends had something in common, right? Salt and Pepper shared a brain, OJ and Paper shared a hatred for betrayal, and Marsh and Paintbrush shared a pragmatic mindset and drive to succeed.

Therein lay the problem because, if you'd asked her what she and Apple had in common just a few hours ago, she would've laughed in your face. What could she possibly have in common with her dimwitted, spiteful, violent enemy with an awful voice?

But a lot had changed lately, so maybe she was wrong about that, too.

"Figuring out what we have in common would be a good start. So maybe we can come up with lists of things we enjoy and try them out?"

Apple practically threw a crayon and a sheet of paper at her; Marsh only just managed to catch them. "Good thing I'm always prepared, ha! ...Wait, what does prepared mean?"

⁂⁂⁂

Marsh hadn't known peace since OJ and Paper fished Apple off of Idiotic Island, so watching the sun's rays reflect off the lake was a very welcome change of pace. Her thoughts meandered between subjects: sometimes about things to add to her list, but also about the strange way the universe worked, how nice it was outside, what she'd eat for dinner, everything under the sun.

Without warning, Apple thrust a sheet of paper into her hands.

A sheet of paper with light-blue writing on it, to be exact. Marsh squinted. What the heck was this chicken-scrawl? Even if light blue was a good color to write with (it wasn't.), Apple's handwriting was tragically awful. Marsh was fairly sure she'd been born writing better.

She smiled politely. "Your handwriting is so unique. What do you want to try first?"

"Uhhh..." Apple pointed at a random point on the page. "This?"

Marsh gave her a questioning look.

"Sports."

Marsh was pretty sure that word wasn't spelled spaatz, but she doubted Apple cared about that. "Hmm. Most sports involve balls... The kind you throw."

"What's a ball?"

"It's a round thing you use to play games, sort of like the big guy on the other team." More dryly, she added, "Or, y'know, the challenge last month."

"Ohhh, those things..."

"We could probably find some at the dodgeball arena, assuming it hasn't disappeared yet."

"Well, actually, I was thinking of the one where you throw a pie-tin back and forth!"

Marsh blinked. "...Like Frisbee?"

"Yes, Frisbee!"

Wherever Apple learned to throw a pie-tin back and forth didn't matter. What did matter was validating Apple's strange hick customs. "Great idea. Where are we going to get one?"

Apple thought for a second. "Oh, I know. Be right back!"

She charged off before Marsh could answer. She sighed and looked down at Apple's list again. 'Spaatz' was probably the most coherent thing on there; she couldn't even imagine what 'xderfs' could mean.

"Hey Marshmallow, go long!" Marsh looked up as Apple threw the gray thing at her.

Only trouble was, the "pie-tin" was screaming. It knocked Marsh to the ground before she could catch it.

It was cold and grunting and kicking. Nickel climbed off of her and glared at Apple. "What's YOUR problem?!"

"You were just standing there," Apple countered.

"Ugh, just because YOU want her dead doesn't mean I have to be, too!" Nickel glared at Marsh and barked, "Do everyone a favor and KEEP YOUR ENEMY under control next time!"

"Uh-"

"Nickel!" Baseball ran faster than Marsh had ever seen an object run. "Are you OK, buddy?"

"Suuuuure, I'm fiiiiine. It's not like I was just used as a murder weapon, nope." Nickel laughed coldly.

Before Marsh could decide whether to interject, one of the new contestants, Suitcase, spoke up: "You can't just throw your friends like that. It's not the right thing to do!"

"Maybe HE should put more effort into being a better friend like me?"

"Which is to say, she's very sorry about that!" Marsh cut in, nudging her arm. "Right?"

Apple crossed her arms. "Oh OK, fine. Sorry."

"If it happens again, the gloves are coming off," Nickel threatened, getting up in Apple's face before leading his pack away.

"What was THAT?!" Marsh demanded as they walked out of earshot.

Apple frowned. "Doesn't everyone get flung at high velocity sometimes?"

"No! That is not a normal thing to do to people," Marsh replied sternly.

"Oh. Sorry," Apple replied sheepishly. "Also, what does flung mean?"

Marsh slapped her forehead in frustration. "It means we should dial things back. Maybe instead of playing games, we should have a proper conversation instead?"

"What does conversation mean?"

"It means we just talk. I've known you for, what. Almost two years? But we've never talked before without it turning into a fight! I don't know what you're like except when you're hurt and angry, and I'd like to change that."

"When you put it that way..." Apple gasped. "Wait! Does that mean we're becoming friends right now?"

"What do you think, genius?" Marsh said, but there wasn't any edge to her tone.

"...I think being friends is harder than I thought."

⁂⁂⁂

The day was just starting to mature into late-afternoon when a yawn bubbled out of Marsh. Marsh lay next to a giant tree, taking in the sky's bright and lovely blue. Ideas idly bounced around in her head - mostly from little tidbits of conversations she'd had with Apple - but none took the form of proper thoughts. 'I can't remember the last time I felt so relaxed. There's literally nobody after me.'

"I'm real glad we're friends now, Marshmallow."

"Heh! Me too," Marsh answered, and she truly meant it.

The sound of birdsong and a slight breeze around them, the scene felt serene, like the moment of understanding they'd been robbed of when Marsh got sent hurtling into space. "I was alone for such a long time, I... kinda forgot how nice it was to have friends. Not that I've really... had those before..."

Marsh raised her eyebrows. "None?"

"Nope! I just never really fit in."

"I'm honored to be your first, then."

"Me too! Being alone sucks..."

Marsh exhaled.

She couldn't deny that it was strange, sitting next to her former enemy without any desire to leave... but it was something she could get used to! It sure beat having petty arguments over whether Santa was real or who was cuter.

('It's totally me, by the way. No competition there.')