[MY LIFE IS FALLING APAAAAAAARRT also I have finals this week and all my grades are like borderline A's for everything and borderline B's for my AP class and algebra so I won't be on as much.]

It was weird. I wasn't the one to get in trouble for once. Carmen Green and her gang of delinquents were all crammed together inside Bear's office while Dallon and I sat outside in the tiny chairs built specifically for kindergarteners. He'd gotten soaked from a caprisun pouch, and had a whole cafeteria lunch tray dumped over his head by some kid in our history class, and I'd been pounded with gloopy mashed potatoes until my eyes started tearing up from the smell and my nose began to leak potatoes. I'd also been picking mushy peas from my hair every now and then, and I found one in my ear on the way through the halls to the office.

He was holding my hand too. Not the shitty way when it's like an awkward handshake, but the couple-y fingers-intertwined bullshit. His hands were still dripping with gravy, but I kinda liked holding his hand, even if the sole purpose was to make sure I didn't sock someone right in the kisser when they came out of the office. It was a restraining hand hold, but more comforting.

"You know," Dallon muttered in the midst of hollering in the room behind us, "you're not too bad at throwing. Maybe you should join the baseball team. You could be the new pitcher."

"You're not bad at smacking away food with a lunch tray," I said in reminisce of barely ten minutes ago, when all hell had broken loose because of me. And Carmen Green. She played a major part in the incident. She was the catalyst. "And you're also not too bad at holding my hand. Most people would've let go by now, or have attempted murder."

He shrugged. "Well, my hand is coated in gravy at the moment. I would've thought you'd have kicked my ass by now."

My heart stopped for a second. "You cursed?" Hallelujah, bless, whatever else I could possibly say to thank a higher power, I wished I could scream at the top of my lungs and buy a lottery scratcher in case I'd hit a bump of good luck.

Dallon paused, and his grip loosened for a split second. A small smirk spread across his face. "I guess I did. I think you're starting to rub off on me instead of the other way around."

I had to repress the wicked smile trying to surface and internally screamed for a few minutes. My plan was working and I barely even had to do anything. He was just giving up that easily.

My plan was working.

Phase two had officially begun.

🖍🖍🖍

Phase two was officially cancelled.

I was sitting in Bear's office, hands in my lap, while Dallon discussed my slight behavioral improvements and the methods he was using as if I wasn't even there. Maybe he assumed I wasn't listening, because to him it seemed like I never bothered to, but I was always eavesdropping and I always picked up on everything he said, no matter how hard he tried to keep it in a low whisper.

"... I don't think I've heard him curse less since he arrived," Bear nodded approvingly, tapping his fingers on his desk, "I'm quite impressed."

Dallon's held his head high and smiled brightly. I wished I'd brought a spare lunch tray so I could hit him over the head with it as hard as I could. "Thank you, sir. I'm very proud of the progress myself." He turned and patted my shoulder, eyes wide with expectations I was going to crush like a bug under an old pair of sneakers designed specifically for bug crushing.

"Your progress is bullshit, your methods can suck it. I don't give a rat's—"

I stopped in the middle of my sentence. He was giving me puppy dog eyes, and Bear was absolutely appalled at my profane language, which was my goal from the second I'd opened my mouth. Berate his ideas and concepts on how to make me into what everyone wanted, leave Cardine, and to return to normal status at Lame Oak was my second plan, and the closest one at that.

I was faced with two decisions:

The first was to expand my vocabulary and use all the words that could come to mind to describe the experience at Cardine I'd had so far. I'd had mashed potatoes chucked across the room at my head, cold salad stuffed down the back of my shirt, I had to live with Dallon for a few weeks and go to bed at least four hours earlier than I was used to. I wasn't allowed to curse, sneak out, or do any of the normal things I used to do on a nightly basis. I hated it, and I wanted to scream it so loud I would be heard in Australia.

The second was to be nice for once. He'd welcomed me into his home, bough extra pillows and new sheets for a new inflatable mattress. Half of his dresser drawer was cleared out for my things, and he'd given up half of his bathroom so I could have my own space. Dallon had risked introducing me to his friends who I could've wrestled easily, and taken the liberty of helping me through classes and complex homework.

"I-I mean... it's stupid. I don't approve of it, and I feel inferior with methods where I'm given cookies for refraining from cursing and... throwing hands."

Bear relaxed back into his squeaky chair and Dallon's face lit up, and next thing I knew I couldn't breathe and I'd learned he gave tight hugs like a starved boa constrictor.

"Like I said," Bear stood and shook my hand once, "I am quite impressed."

I forced a smile, and anyone with eyes could see the blatant disgust for such an action. "Thank you, B- sir."

And I swear on my grave, Dallon kissed my cheek before he let go, grabbed my backpack for me, and dragged me out of the office behind him.

I hated my heart for skipping a beat.

Who even was I? My uniform shirt was unwrinkled, my pants almost always had perfect creases because Dallon's mom did the laundry for us, and I didn't possess any decently new cuts or bruises that were revenge inflicted. My hair wasn't tangled, my stomach wasn't howling at me to eat something other than potato chips and soda, and my glasses had even made an appearance the other day, which was wild. I hadn't worn them for years. They always got in the way of living my life.

Yuck. I felt like throwing up even thinking about who I was becoming.

"Thanks for what you did," Dallon tapped my shoulder with a small smile while we trekked out to his car in the lot at the park across the street, "I know you didn't really mean it, but thanks."

I shrugged. At least he knew I wasn't making any progress. That was my main concern. "Don't mention it."

I didn't get the opportunity to tell him to really never mention it ever again, but he interrupted me. "No, but really. Thank you-"

"I said don't mention it. Ever. I'm serious."

He caught on to the daggers in my eyes and quit talking about it, resorting to small talk about classes and which teachers I liked and disliked.

"But the English teacher isn't that bad, right?" I'd gotten the hint our English teacher was his favorite out of the bunch. So naturally, I didn't like her when finding out.

I shrugged and jiggled the handle on his car door as a signal to unlock it and not force me to walk home and fail to never leave my irresponsible and disrespectful side. "She's definitely not my favorite. I like the teacher we don't have for any classes that exist."

He thought about that one for second while buckling his seatbelt and turning the radio to a song he approved of, surprisingly not a religious music station like I'd anticipated. It wasn't country either, which was good but also bad because then I couldn't make fun of him for it. "So what I'm hearing is that... you hate every single last teacher you have and wish you never had a teacher like them?"

I nodded. Spot on. "Yup."

He smirked and flipped the ignition, slowly backing out of the parking spot much better than I could've ever done. It was impressive, I'd give him that. "You're so weird."

"Okay, gravy hands."