nerd.

douze

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Mason Richards

I slump down against her front door with my head in my hands. I can hear her crying in her backyard, but I'm afraid if I go, then I will say the wrong thing again. Instead, I allow a few guilty tears to slip out of my eyes. Her sobs are painful to my ears, daggers to my heart. I can't take it anymore.

"Arielle!" I cry, running to the side fence. When I realize it is locked, I find a ledge in the middle, hop onto that, and then jump over. Arielle is laying in the middle of the grass, her knees pulled up to her chest, her head in her hands. "Arielle," I whisper, sitting by her.

 "Please go away, Mason." She croaks.

 "I can't." I reply softly. "I screwed up, and I have to fix it."

"Well, you can't just come and fix it, Mason. You not only screwed up, you toyed with my emotions and just about broke me." Arielle cries.

"I'm sorry." I try again. She shakes her head, her nose dripping.

"Hey. Look at me." I say gently, lifting her chin with my index finger for her to meet my gaze. She looks straight into my eyes, and I nearly start crying when I see that the only emotion in her wide eyes is sorrow. "I'm sorry, Arielle." She shakes her head and shifts over to where I am sitting, wrapping her arms around my neck, sobbing into my chest. I stroke her hair, whispering, "Shh. It's okay. You're okay." She pulls away from me and looks directly into my eyes, wiping her tears.

"We can't keep doing this." She says finally, her voice still shaky.

"What?" I ask.

"This. You have to choose, Mason. It is either me, or it’s the populars and Ashley."

 I suck in a breath. I wasn't expecting those words to ever come out of her mouth. She stares straight into my eyes, her pupils boring holes into mine.

 "I can't choose." I tell her honestly.

 "Why not?" She questions.

"Because you're giving me an ultimatum. You are basically asking me to choose between you and my best friends as well as my girlfriend." I reply shakily.

"So? You clearly didn't have difficulty choosing Ashley after leading me on." She snaps, tears threatening to spill at the corners of her eyes.

"That's different." I try.

"How so?" She fires back.

"Uh...erm...well, it's different because..." I try to buy myself some time to think, but fail miserably.

"You don't have an answer, do you? You don't have an answer because it's not any different, Mason, you just want it to be. I know you, Mason. I know that in your mind, you know it is the safest to choose the populars and Ashley, but in your heart, you don't want to leave me behind." Arielle spits, looking down at the ground. My heart stops. It's like she read my mind.

"I don't want to leave any of you behind, which is why I can't choose between you guys. It's unfair to me just as much as it is unfair to you." I reply after thinking it through for a bit.

"Mason, I really don't care if you choose them. I was fine on my own before you decided you wanted to be a hero and come save the day for me. I'm fine if you leave. Everyone ends up leaving anyway, Mason, so you might as well now." Arielle cries, a few tears managing to escape. My heart pounds in my chest, my mind racing a trillion miles a minute.

"Fine. You want it to be that way? Fine then. Have it your way." I spit, too frustrated to think of anything else. I spin on my heel and start to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Arielle asks in a small voice.

"I'm fulfilling your wish. I'm choosing them." I yell.

"What?" She whimpers. A little bit of my heart chips off at her simple statement.

"I'm choosing them." I say finally, not sure myself. "I'm choosing the populars."

*

Broken. The only feeling steadily coursing through my veins. I lay on the couch, sprawled out with Coco on my stomach, just crying. Titanic plays on the flat-screen in front of me, but I haven't even taken a glance at the screen since I put the movie in. Coco whimpers at me and tries to cheer me up by licking my arms, but even the sweet puppy's attempts are failed.

 He chose them over you, the voice in my head keeps repeating. I fell in his trap. I believed every word of his crap, and he led me on. He thought I was a wounded puppy that needed help. His intent was never to help, it was to play me. And he succeeded. I cry and cry, even when I feel that my tear ducts are dry. He chose them over me. My conscience had a feeling he would, but my heart thought otherwise. I lift Coco off of my lap and onto the floor, and go into the garage. I scan the area until I find what I am looking for. I grab the blue bottle of spray paint and run outside, up the large hill and into the main town. I find the abandoned building that I had my eye on and go to the back of it, where the dumpsters are. I find a small empty corner of the brick wall that has not been covered with paint and open my spray paint can, carefully spelling out the words:

 Mason Richards is a bully.