It Was Fate (A McPriceley Fanfiction) {Book 1}

Chapter 3: Games Are Now Forbiddon In District 9

"Hey, guys!" Poptarts walked back into the Common, rather peppy. But, Kevin immediately saw right through his façade. There was something off in his expressions, but he couldn't pin what. "What'd I miss?"

"Davis is cheating!" James pointed an accusing finger at Oliver, as Poptarts joined the two on the couch.

"I am most certainly am not!"

"You most certainly am are!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

Kevin and Poptarts drowned out the two's bickering (that went on for far longer than necessary), looking at each other. He took a second before speaking up, "um, Poptarts, pal... Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Poptarts gave a small nod, before following Kevin into the kitchen. "So, what is it?"

"Does Elder McKinley hate me?" Kevin asked bluntly, causing Poptarts to stifle a giggle.

"Why would you think that? Nobody hates anybody here... I think."

"Well, you heard the conversation," Kevin started scratching his wrist, an anxious habit that has followed him since he was five. "Ever since the excommunication, McKinley's been ignoring me. And then, there's the whole thing about him not telling anyone his first name. Seeing as you're his mission companion and everything, I'm curious...has he ever mentioned why he doesn't like me? Like, has he ever talked about me to you?"

Much to Kevin's confusion, Poptarts snorted rather loudly, before bursting into a fit of giggles. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. I can't, I can't."

Kevin rose an eyebrow at his fellow Elder's behaviour. He merely asked a simple question, that only really required a straight-forward 'yes' or 'no' answer. But, instead he was being laughed at. It would be an understatement to say that it extremely heightened his anxiety.

"W-What? What are you laughing at?" Kevin stammered, beginning to dig his nails deeper into his wrists. "He has, hasn't he?"

"Oh, Kevin Price, my dear, you have no idea," Poptarts calmed himself down. His eyes widened as he glanced down at Kevin's wrists. "Hey, hey, hey," he attempted to gently pry Kevin's hand away from his wrist, finding it almost futile, "don't...don't do that. It's not at all a bad thing. I can't say much, since I promised McKinley, but I can assure you that he doesn't hate you, at all. In fact, it's actually the opposite."

"...Huh? What does that mean..?" Kevin restrained from further digging his nails into his skin, seeing as he was beginning to draw blood.

"Trust me, Price," Poptarts smirked, "he likes you. He's just going through some hard times, and needs space. It's a McKinley thing. But, he does want to talk things through with you."

"Really?" Kevin perked up, feeling almost ecstatic at the thought.

"Yeah! He does! I'm pretty sure he wants to apologize for ignoring you and everything, maybe explain his reasoning, and whatnot. I--"

"AT LEAST I'M NOT A JERK OF A MISSION COMPANION!" Poptarts was suddenly interrupted by James and Oliver's petty argument escalating fairly quickly.

"SAYS WHO, CHURCH?!"

"SAYS ME, YOU-YOU-YOU SWINE!"

"SWINE?! WELL, AT LEAST I DON'T HAVE BIG GLASSES, FOUR EYES!"

"MAYBE I HAVE FOUR EYES, BUT I'M NOT USING THEM TO CRY ALL THE TIME, YOU BIG BABY!"

"WELL, AT LEAST I'M ALLOWED TO FEEL EMOTIONS, BECAUSE MY DAD DIDN'T BEAT ME FOR HAVING THEM--!"

CRASH!