The Bad Boys' Soft Boys' Lonely Hearts Club - The Full Package

At Last, Chapter 1

Expelled. Such a nasty word, and yet, one I've heard time and time again.

See, the bad part of being the new kid bad boy is the fact that you have to actually be new to be a bad boy. That means that the moment things get stale, just like a piece of gum chewed by more than twelve seconds, I get discarded. Always has been, always will be. I don't know why I thought this was going to be different. I've never made it into more than a few months into a new school before it gets burned down, or flooded, or transmuted into a fart dimension, or just gets expelled. That last is the worst one, mostly because it's the only one that is my fault and not the musings of a drunk goddess playing crabs with my fate in a heavenly casino.

Honestly, this is the last time I allow people to get close to me. I've always kept my head down, lived in my vents, and tried to ride the eventual tidal wave of shit that would come and sweep me into another bizarre subset of the shitty American school system. I kinda liked the Montessori school I had my second year in. Shame that their hands-off approach to education literally cut off their hands when that weird robotics kid made that handshake robot. Why he would install chainsaws as stabilizers is beyond me. I think it was a supervillain origin thing.

I blame Hayden for everything that happened. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be feeling like shit right now. If he hadn't given me hope that things might be different, or if he hadn't given me such interesting new friends, or even if he hadn't given me something to work towards on, I might've avoided using so many contractions. And also, I wouldn't be feeling like crap.

And yet, I know it was my fault. Obviously, Lee and Aiden were in cahoots. Why else would she recommend him to our group? He was the apple of discord, and we were the stupid Olympians who took the bait. I was the stupid Olympian who took the bait. I was jebaited.

I didn't even realize I was monologuing until then. I fell, and fell, and fell again, not realizing something I should've realized something that apparently Lee knew even before me:

No matter how I cut it, Hayden was my Plot Canon Love. It seems so obvious now. We met on the first day of school, literally bumped each other in the hallway, became fake boyfriends, always met up, always drove the plot forwards, it was right there for me to see, and I was too blind to see it, because he is a bad boy, and not a TAB/G. But I guess that was also a jabait on me. It took me the sliver of the possibility of maybe perhaps a love triangle to appear to make me spring into action and all the repressed bad boy energy I had to be expelled into Aiden's head. Another use of the word I don't condone.

Well, it's all moot now. I'm not going back there, and he, Brayden, and Okayden are all out of my reach. Yes, I could still see them after school, but I think they wouldn't want to see me after everything that happened. I served them some hash-browns, and they swallowed them whole. Hayden's face of disapproval will mildly haunt me for the next three to eight business days.

And the worst thing is that my bag of underwear is still in the clubroom. Shit. I only have one pair left. Maybe I'll go commando? Nah, then I'll shit myself again. Nothing matters anymore.

I had nothing, then slowly started to build something, then destroyed it to the ground. My life is a poorly instructed Lego set that I've tried to play by ear, and you know what? Fuck it. I'll use the instructions. You hear that, Fortuna? You drunk, deadbeat bitch! I'll play your game. Want me to be in a cliche story? Fine. Want me to be a bad boy? Okay! You win, I lose, you rule, I drool. Let's play it your way and see if, for once, you can leave me alone.

Starting with the fact that I'm on my own bed, eyes wide shut, waiting for the alarm to ring. I feel that, if you wait for the alarm to ring, it takes its sweet time. Kinda like when time flies when you're having fun. One would say that time is relative, and our over-fixation on an arbitrary measure of time is but human hubris. I say that time is a contrarian dick.