Home Ec, task 3: Write about someone's feelings getting hurt
Word Count: 1073
The umbrella doesn't seem to do any good. Freezing raindrops still manage to splash against Piers, soaking him and chilling him to the bone. He shivers and picks up his pace. At least he has an umbrella.
He turns onto Magnolia Crescent, ducking his head against the sudden gust of wind. When he looks up, he feels his heart break a little within his chest. He's standing outside of Dennis' house, and he recognizes Malcolm and Gordon's bikes parked under the carport.
Dennis had told Piers that everyone was too busy to hang out. Of course, that's been the case ever since Dudley and his family left months ago. All of a sudden, everyone was too busy for Piers, and he was okay with that; at the very least, he was used to it.
He tells himself that he should let it go and walk away. There's bound to be a perfectly rational explanation for it, and he's just being silly. Max is waiting for him at home.
Instead, he moves forward, crossing the lawn and standing in front of the door. Piers lifts his hand, trembling from nerves and the cold. It's not too late; he can turn around and walk away, put this all behind him. His bony knuckles rap against the painted green door.
It takes a few moments, but Dennis' face appears briefly in the window. Even with the walls separating them, Piers can hear him mutter, "Shit!"
The door opens a few seconds later. Dennis sighs, pushing a hand through his dark hair. He stares at Piers, awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot. "You shouldn't be here," he says at last.
Piers opens his mouth but immediately closes it again. The words refuse to come out, and he hates it. Isn't he supposed to be tough now? Hasn't he spent the last several years having to fight, so desperate to earn respect? Why does he have to freeze up now?
"Thought we weren't hanging out anymore," he manages, gesturing toward the parked and sheltered bikes. His voice is thin and so close to breaking, and Piers is suddenly grateful for the rain. If he starts crying, maybe Dennis won't notice; maybe he'll think it's just the rain.
"Look, mate…" Dennis sighs heavily, shaking his head. "Fuck it. Look, we only tolerated you because Big D said you were cool."
Piers has always suspected as much. He's never felt like he truly belonged in the group. Dudley took a special interest in him, but Piers never quite saw the impact of it until now.
Dennis plucks a cigarette from his coat pocket and tucks the filter between his lips as he lights the other end. He carefully cups his hand around the flame, shielding it from the wintry wind. "Now that Big D is gone," he says, blowing out a puff of white-grey smoke in Piers' face, "we don't want to keep playing pretend. Don't make this more awkward than it already is. Just piss off, okay?"
Piers considers slamming his fist into his former friend's face. He could take Dennis easily enough. Piers may be scrawny and look fragile, but he's tougher than people realize. His fingers curl inward, transforming his hands into fists.
He doesn't move. What's the point? Dennis has made it abundantly clear that he isn't wanted. He presses his lips into a hard, thin line, nods, and turns on his heel. Rain splatters against his face, and the droplets most definitely aren't mixed with his own tears.
…
He's grateful to be home. The warmth immediately hits him, and the numbness slowly begins to fade.
"You're dripping wet!" Max calls, sticking his head through the kitchen's entrance. "Upstairs and change into– Are you crying?"
"No!" But Piers' sniffle betrays his emotions. He wipes his slender hand over his face as though he can erase the evidence.
Max doesn't buy it. He rushes forward, his dark curls bouncing with each frantic step. "What happened? Did someone hurt your feelings?"
Piers sputters out an awkward laugh. It sounds so childishly, and, for one brief moment, the amusement is enough to pull him out of his slump. It doesn't last long, though. As silly as it sounds, his feelings are hurt.
Maybe he's never been that close to Dennis and the others, but he still considered them his friends. It isn't fair that he's losing them. Having Dudley vanish without a word had been bad enough. Why can't he have one bloody thing?
"Go get some dry clothes on," Max says, his tone gentle yet firm enough that it leaves no room for argument. "Then we can talk. I made cookies."
Even the promise of his cousin's homemade cookies isn't enough to make him smile. He just nods stiffly and stalks off.
…
He doesn't want to talk to Max about it. It's stupid and embarrassing, and he wants to just let it go.
But it hurts so damn bad, and he finds himself pouring it all out before he can stop himself. It doesn't fix anything. The pain is still there, and he still feels so lonely, but there's the slightest rush of relief, as though a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Piers slumps forward, resting his forehead against the table.
"I didn't know."
Max's hand rests on Piers' shoulder. The gentle weight is warm and comforting. "Now you do," he says. "What are you going to do about it?"
Piers sniffles and sits up, wiping his eyes. "What can I do?"
"Don't regret knowing them and trying to be good to them," Max says. "The way they're treating you says nothing about your character and everything about theirs. All you can do is put this behind you and call it a lesson."
Piers almost smiles, but it feels like too much effort. He isn't sure how to go about this. All he wants is to stop being alone and to actually be happy. Maybe Max is right, though. There's no happiness to be found with Dennis and the others, and he has no idea if Dudley is ever coming back. He has to figure this out for himself.
"Can I have a cookie?" he asks.
Max grins. "Only if you wash the dishes."
"That's not fair! You're the one who used them!" Piers protests.
It will be a long journey, but it might be the most worthwhile one he's ever undergone.