Reputation [Brallon]

Bruiser

[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."