Chapter Text
Amazingly, today managed to become even more of a drama-fest.
The Betty and Phil situation is the same. They're still mad at each other. I'm still staying as far away from that situation as I can.
But when I decided to go outside so I didn't have to hear the yelling, I opened the door and saw the personification of drama herself, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. I closed the door as fast as humanly possible, but it was too late.
There was a knock on the door. I could hear her shoe tapping impatiently on the other side.
Why did I open the door again?
Either because:
A. I was too rattled by the noise upstairs to think rationally, and amidst all the chaos, there was this residual fear of Betty finding out I had slammed the door on a visitor and being disappointed. And even though I'm probably supposed to be mad at Betty, we can't have that.
Or B. I was tired of being a coward and had a sudden revelation—that sometimes, you need to face your fears head-on and stare them in the face!
That second one sounds better. Lets say it was the second one.
Mackenzie looked triumphant, as if she'd been casing the place for hours, just waiting for her pathetic prey to emerge.
"Finally, you came out! I've been waiting for hours!"
I felt a shiver travel up my spine as I wondered once again why Mackenzie has to be so creepy.
Betty and Phil were still going at it, so I went outside and closed the door before Mackenzie could hear the commotion.
She stomped in annoyance, and as she got closer, I thought about how easily the point of her shoe could stab my foot. I was only wearing socks!
"Why did you slam the door when you saw me?" she asked.
"I was, um, checking the hinges," I lied convincingly.
"Whatever, Brandon. We need to talk now."
"Why do we need to talk? What do you want?"
"I just—haven't seen you in a while," she said, faking cheerfulness. "You shouldn't avoid your girlfriend like that."
Instead of correcting her like I usually do, I just sighed miserably. "Please leave me alone."
"What's your problem?"
"I went to your party."
"Awesome, wasn't it, babe?"
"You lied about inviting Nikki, threw my phone into your pool, and attacked me."
"It was just a kiss."
"That was assault."
"Are you mad?" she asked, sounding surprised.
I nodded slowly, wondering if she was actually surprised.
"Ok." Mackenzie twirled her hair around her finger. "I thought you were mad when you ran away, but I wanted to make sure."
I wanted to tell Mackenzie that I was more than mad—that I never wanted to see her or talk to her again because being pinned against the side of her house really sucked.
I wanted her to know that she left finger bruises on my arms and traumatized me for life, but enough people already know things that were supposed to stay between me and a composition notebook.
"Mackenzie, please just go away."
"So maybe it was a little too intense for you," she said, ignoring me. "You've probably never had a real kiss before."
"Mackenzie—"
"I like you, okay! Is that a crime?" she screeched, folding her arms and glaring. "It doesn't make any sense that you wouldn't feel the same way! I mean, I'm popular, talented, and gorgeous, so I could have any guy at WCD. But the only one who matters treats me like garbage. It's really annoying, and when you had the nerve to diss me at my own party, I honestly couldn't take it anymore!"
I, honestly, was confused.
"But...you don't actually like me."
"OMG! Brandon, you can't be serious!" she gasped. "Of course I like you! You'd have to be an oblivious loser not to see that...Or a boy."
Mackenzie rolled her eyes and giggled, a combination which made her look exceptionally unhinged. "Oh, Brandon, I thought you were more perceptive than the others."
"What? No, this has nothing to do with me being a guy or a loser. I just think dogs should be safe and happy and not abandoned on the street to be run over by passing cars. You know that, and you tried to shut down Fuzzy Friends!"
"Just for attention," she whined, as if that was a valid excuse. "Cause you were distracted by that tasteless dork and a box full of mangy mutts! 'Cause I like you!"
"Nikki has more taste in her pinky than you have in your entire body, and her friendship makes me happy. If you like me so much, why don't you want me to be happy? Why can't you respect my feelings?"
"What feelings?"
"If you're asking about my feelings for you—"
"I am."
"Nausea," I said truthfully.
Betty says there's a limit to how much truth is appropriate. I think I crossed that line, and it made me feel guilty.
I couldn't stop.
"I'm not ready for the kind of relationship where one person calls all the shots while the other person's only there to be used and manipulated. I don't want to feel like a victim. And that's how you make me feel. Can't you respect that?"
"I don't really have a choice," Mackenzie said bitterly, "not if you're gonna cry about it."
I wasn't crying.
"I'm not crying. There's—there's dust—"
"Whatever. But if you weren't crying, I'd say you're not being fair. Nikki's such a pest, I'm surprised her dad hasn't exterminated her yet! Her friends only tolerate her out of sympathy. And there is no way I would purposefully subject myself to doing the same."
"I don't want you to be BFFs with Nikki. You threw a dodgeball at her head and gave her concussion! I'm just asking you to respect that she's my friend and you're not."
"Brandon, that's cruel..."
"But it's true," I snapped, reminding myself that it doesn't matter what Betty would think. (I am supposed to be mad at her—probably—and she was upstairs anyway.)
"You know I don't like you, but you keep trying to force me to be your boyfriend. It's like you don't care how miserable I am as long as you get what you want! You stole my phone twice, you've been stalking me all summer, and—Don't I get to be cruel when that's all you've ever been to me?"
I turned and fumbled at the doorknob to end a conversation which could only lead to me losing it completely.
There's only so much I can blame on dust in my eye. This isn't Avengers Infinity War.
"Sorry."
"What?"
"Sorry, okay?" Mackenzie said.
She was still glaring at me, but I couldn't hear the usual condescending sarcasm in her voice. I think she meant it?
As I grunted something intelligible (even to myself) and finally got the door open, one thought ran through my head.
The world is ending.
