𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈𝐧 - 𝐓.𝐂 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑

Splashes & Changes |Drabble 1|

Warning(s): Swearing

Notes: Heavily inspired by that one scene in Gilmore Girls, and takes place when R first moved to Woodsboro

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"Hey," Dewey nodded at you. You turned your face to him then looked back, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. You exhaled through your nose as you lightly clenched your jaw.

"How was school?"

"Great."

"Learn anything good?"

"Oh yeah...tons of things. I've got gold stars plastered all over my forehead," you answered with sarcasm laced in your voice.

"I had an interesting call today. Wanna know who it was from?" You put your book in your back pocket as the two of you continued to walk.

"Not really."

"So, Mr. Collier—you know he runs the store that's not too far from your house."

"If you say so."

"He said you came in today–"

"He did?" You rhetorically asked, voice lacking interest. You knew Dewey was amping up to something, and you could care less.

"—And he said you took some money out of a little donation cup to help repair the roads. I told him he was 'crazy, you wouldn't do that, you weren't a thief' that 'he was just trying to start trouble' and then I hung up on him. Now, don't get me wrong, I enjoy hanging up on Mr. Collier. The guy's nothing but a jerk—and he is crazy.

"But I was just wondering if, maybe, any of the other things were true."

"What do you think?" You asked, turning the question back on him.

"I think, if you tell me that what he's saying is not true then I'm going to believe it's not true."

"Okay, it's not true."

"That doesn't sound very convincing—"

You stopped in your tracks and finally turned to face Dewey. You fists were clenched as you spoke, not

"Look, what exactly do you want from me? First my mom drags me all the way from New York to here, now I get stuck with you half the time. I'm in a school that has us doing the pledge of allegiance in six–different–languages—I mean geez! I haven't even heard of two of them. I'm supposed to be this happy–go–lucky person after being taken from my home, my friends—and now you want what from me?!"

You didn't need this. You were fine living in a crappy–ish apartment. You were more than fine with knowing the city like the back of your hand, and knowing the people who walked it. What you weren't fine with was dealing with new faces, and this damn town who seemed to think they knew you when they didn't.

They resented you, and you knew why. They would constantly compare you to your late psychotic uncle. They were making assumptions about you, before you even stepped foot into Woodsborro.

"I'm just trying to help you," Dewey sighed as his patience was growing thin. Dewey knew what people said about you, and he knew you heard what most of them were saying. He wished he could protect you—shield you from all of it, but he can only do so much.

"Well stop trying. Stop talking to me, stop following me, and stop asking me questions—just stop!" You were aggravated and annoyed with everything in your life right now. Unforntally, you were taking it out on Dewey.

"That's what you want?"

"Yes!"

"That's really what you want?" He asked again, his voice grew a little louder.