[im just really glad I never put Melanie Martinez into any of my stories tbh I never really liked her in the first place. ALSO I really wanna make a book themed around the twilight zone bc I love that show sm but idk how that would work exactly so if any1 has ideas hmu I'll give u my spam ig if that'll be easier too]

After school was an absolute disaster. I wasn't being taken straight home in the mom mobile, oh no, of course not. I couldn't have nice things.

The principal had called up my mother and discussed the parameters of the exchange, and after negotiations with Dallon's family and everyone in between, I was officially staying with Dallon for the remainder of the school year. Because apparently, my parents were both tired of having to put up with me and my bullshit, which was actually understandable but still ticked me off. I was their child, for gods sake, their own flesh and blood. If they put up with me my whole life, another year or two wouldn't make so much as a dent in their sanity. I'd already done that, like, a million times.

What was even worse was that Dallon could sense that I was pissed, and in an attempt to cheer me up, he drove us to some Hawaiian restaurant simply called Luau. It was cheesy and really stupid, but people were juggling torches on fire and serving drinks in hollowed out coconuts, so I'd decided that the establishment was cool. It would remain un-vandalized unless a coconut cup drink was delivered without a tiny umbrella.

"So, you said you transferred from Lone Oak, right?" Dallon's eyes were wide, filled with curiosity I didn't want to satisfy. Not while people were throwing flame balls across the tiny stage to my left. I wanted to watch that, not make conversation.

"Yeah—" his mouth dropped open to ask another question, "—it fucking sucked. It was like a deeper hellhole in the ninth circle of hell. Hell in hell. Hell-ception. "

He frowned, folding his hands on the table. His lip jutted out slightly. "Maybe it just sucked in your eyes? I've heard it's an amazing public school, compared to some of the other ones in the surrounding area. I think my mom's friend works there too. What was your G.P.A? What about your grades? Test scores? Did you ever take the PSAT? Did you do well on it?"

I didn't care. I never even looked at my grades other than a quick glimpse of my report card while I was being yelled at for borderline failing marks in most classes. The only one I'd ever bothered to check was the PSAT, which I was forced to take, and I'd gotten a fourteen hundred. I didn't know if that was good or not, but I kept it to myself. It was probably a bad score. "I don't check, and I don't care."
[the score is out of sixteen hundred I think. so he did pretty well & way better than me]

"I think you should care," as if, "you seem a lot smarter than you look. I heard you've handmade smoke bombs, and that involves a lot of complex chemistry. I was in advanced placement chemistry last year, and the composition of a few still throws me for a loop."

That was what my mom would always tell me, the first part at least. She'd complain nonstop that I had so much potential, and that I just flushed it down the drain. She was right, in a way. I didn't want it. Then people would start depending on me and believing I was reliable, and then I'd just let everyone down. It was nothing new, the whole letting people down part, but that didn't mean I liked doing it all the time. "Sure. I broke into the chemistry lab and made them there, so they weren't exactly homemade, but sure."

He frowned and pulled his backpack on his lap, sifting through the pockets with that stupid pout. He slammed a sheet of paper on the table alongside a red crayon. "See, I know a lot of people that think they're good for nothing, but they're actually really great. Like my friend, Josh? Have you met him yet? Anyways, he's not too good in history or English class, and his grades are barely passing in math and science. But push that aside, he's a record holding cross country runner; he has the fastest mile time in the west coast, and he's taken the team to nationals three times. Some people just have different strengths."

"Kudos to him. I'm not a runner."

Dallon paused and set down the crayon. "What do you do for fun?"

"Vandalize, pull pranks, get in trouble, pick fights. Y'know. The usual." Judging by the long sigh, he didn't quite care for that answer. "I've been banned from juvy, too, if that's something. I was considering putting that on some college applications for the extra edge."

He scribbled for a few more seconds and held up a rough red sketch once he was finished. It was a bumpy outline of myself, grumpy face and all, three fourths crudely colored in like a kindergartner had poured every last bit of their childish creativity all over it while blindfolded. I knew he was trying to fill it in quickly, but it looked horrendous. "This is your badness level. It's extremely high for someone of your size."

I lunged for the picture, but he yanked it away before my fingers could ever touch the paper, aka the biggest insult I'd ever been faced with. "This is not Lilo and Stitch! And I'm average height, you're just super tall!"

"I know I'm tall! Everyone else is short too!" He stuffed the paper back into his backpack and zipped it shut. Rats. That'd probably end up plastered all over the internet, and then Pete would get ahold of it and I'd never live it down. "You're missing my point."

"I genuinely don't give an entire shit about your point—"

"You're bad, Brendon. You can't just go running around like this for the rest of your life, everyone needs stability, even if it's just a little bit. Right now, you're like... a lowlife. Hoodlum. Ruffian."

I stood up in an instant and he flinched at the screech of the chair against the floorboards. A handful of people had turned to watch and stare at me. Nobody knew who I was around Cardine, and they should've. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is that what you're gonna call me?"

To my surprise, a wave of confidence or something like that had washed over him, and before I knew it my shirt was twisted in his fist and I was jerked across the table, inches away from his face. I could smell his breath. The suffocating scent of pineapple mango smoothies lingered on his lips.

"That's exactly what I'm calling you," he grumbled, "until you can pull yourself together and act like a decent human being, bruiser."

He let go of my shirt and the large gathering that had been staring the whole time had finally returned to their food and the entertainers, who'd also paused their acts to ogle. Nobody dared to even glance in my direction, and the only thing that made the night worse was the waiters and waitresses begging another coworker to serve us.

No, no, that was wrong. The worst part was that he was right. I was a bruiser.

Screw that. Maybe I was a little proud of it.

🖍🖍🖍

"I'm sorry for what I said," Dallon put his hand on my shoulder as soon as his car rumbled to a stop in his driveway, "I didn't mean it. I have bad habits of trying to put people in their places with words I don't mean. My mother says—"

I pushed his hand off and jiggled the door handle until he unlocked it. I honestly couldn't have cared less about what stupid names he called me, no matter if he meant it. "It's fine. You were right. You had every right to call me that."

He grabbed my arm before I could bolt out of the car. "But I didn't mean it, a-and it's far from the truth. You're brilliant, and when it comes down to it, you're a great person. I'm really sorry about what I said."

Of course he meant it. "Yeah."

Dallon's house was nice, much nicer than mine. The front porch light didn't flicker like it was possessed by a demon, and there wasn't a tiny posse of moths harassing anybody's every move. The driveway was long, the garage door paint wasn't peeling. It was warm. Home-y.

"My mom and dad are currently at the supermarket getting last minute necessities for you," he pushed open the door with his shoulder and stepped in first, "so they'll be back with a suitcase or two of your things, and a couple extra things."

Their house was huge. Everything looked so... breakable and expensive. The interior was way different from my own house. I couldn't completely decide which I liked better, but I was leaning toward Dallon's. "Thanks. I think."

"It's no problem. I was waved from homework assignments tonight thanks to your arrival, so we can get you situated in a bit. It's top priority right now."

I was never top priority.

Sure enough, a half hour later his parents came home. They introduced themselves as nice as they possibly could after hearing about the shit I pulled on a daily basis, and passed a suitcase into my arms and a few plastic Target bags into Dallon's. From what I could tell, I liked them. I would most likely be able to tolerate them for the remainder of my stay.

His mom had brought back a new air mattress, so she passed it to me and had Dallon help me carry it up to his room to set it up, because they didn't trust me to sleep in their guest bedroom. Either that or they had the spare room filled with scrapbooking supplied and Christmas gifts like my mom.

Halfway through the inflating process, Dallon decided to pop another question.

"Why are you the way that you are?"

I sat up and shot him a glare across the room. He was crouched over the mattress, frowning with his hands clasped together. I wanted to slap the look off his face. "Why are you the way that you are? You're such a stick-in-the-mud, goody-two-shoes."

"Because I have decent respect for myself and others around me. Because I don't want to be living under a bridge since I couldn't pull my life together while I had the opportunity." He paused, a slight smirk twitching to his lips. "So, answer my question."

I didn't even have to think about my answer. "Because I have pure shit going for me, I find joy in seeing people I hate suffer at the hands of my own doings, and because I have nothing better to do at this point in my life."

He didn't say a word in response. He nodded once, unplugged the air mattress, and helped arrange the sheets in silence.

And he shut off the lights, and went to bed.