Just as you expect, as soon as you get back to your new house, the macaroni is cold and disgusting. You finish off the fruit cocktail and decide to just dump the macaroni and cheese out a window or something. There's sure as hell nothing else to do with it.

You try to get some sleep in one of the beds upstairs – no, not the princess-themed one, the one that probably belonged to the parents – but find that you can't. It's the thoughts of the stupid party that's probably going on at Collie Parker and Abraham's house. The one that probably everyone but you, Stebbins, and Barkovitch will be at. But who knows. They could all be there, and it could just be you left alone.

You decide that you need to check this out.

It feels weird to go in what you wore to the Walk, so you decide to raid Wal-Mart for some decent 'spy on cool people' clothes.

Surprisingly, you run into none other than Gary Barkovitch there. He's sporting a black eye and has a cut on his chin. Souvenirs from his fight with Parker, you guess.

You spend about thirty seconds standing there, looking awkwardly at each other, before he snorts and leaves. "Hey!" you say. He pauses and looks over his shoulder.

"What do you want, asshole?"

Well isn't he a joy.

"What are you doing?" you ask. You don't really know why you're talking to him; you're just so desperately lonely you'll take whoever you can get. Everyone's left you. Maybe this kid is just as lonely as you are. Maybe he won't leave you, because he won't have the chance to, because nobody likes him.

Of course, you don't like him either.

Why are you talking to him again?

"Why do you care?" he replies, standing on his tiptoes to snag a t-shirt off of the top shelf. Dark gray. Oh look, he's shaking things up. When you don't answer, he continues, like you want to hear what he has to say. "I just need some new clothes, that's all. I mean, these're kinda… disgusting by now."

You nod, even though his back's to you. The next words that come out of your mouth you wish you could take back as soon as you say them. "I'm planning on crashing Abraham's stupid little… whatever he's doing. Wanna come?"

The kid's so shocked that he drops his t-shirt. And then, while turning to look at you, he trips over his own feet and falls into the shelves of t-shirts. You just watch, smirking a little, as he goes down, taking about thirty t-shirts with him.

"Is that a yes or a no?" you ask. He's bright red. God, what a freak.

"Um. Yeah. Sure. I mean," he stands up. "Yes."

You laugh. He's so goddam awkward when you're being sort of nice to him. Of course, he probably doesn't know how to act around people that aren't being assholes to him, because he's so unlikeable. Huh. That's actually kind of sad, but, to be honest, you don't really care.

You gather up the clothes you're going to need and head back to your house. You shower until the water runs cold, wondering how you ever could've been stupid enough to leave this sort of life behind. Because you did have a fine life. Not super-excellent, of course, but you had a roof over your head and food every day and, basically, it was just a fine life. You did have some issues with people at school and 'trying too hard to be cool', as some people put it, but overall, nothing you couldn't deal with.

Wait, that's why you went out for the Walk in the first place.

To look cool.

Well, didn't that backfire on you.

Now, not only are you basically the least cool guy here – hanging out with Barkovitch of all people! – but you're dead.

You're such a dumbass.

When you finally get dressed, you notice that Barkovitch is standing awkwardly outside your house. He's far enough away that he thinks he looks like he's not awkwardly standing outside your house, but you know that's what he's doing.

God, what a freak.

You understand why he has no friends. Not only is he a complete dickhead, but if you're nice to him he turns into some awkward fuck who doesn't know how to act around people. Jesus Christ.

Of course, when you look outside the window ten minutes later, he's not there. Huh. Maybe you were wrong. Or maybe he thought you weren't going to show up so he decided to run away as to not look stupid.

If he was trying to not look stupid, he was way too late.

He'd looked stupid his entire life, you figured. From the minute he popped out to the minute he died. And actually after his death, considering… you know…

This is stupid.

You decide to head out, grabbing a chocolate-covered granola bar on the way and, after a brief consideration, grabbing one for Barkovitch as well. Might as well feed the freak.

When you get out there, Barkovitch is back, and Stebbins is with him.

Oh, look. Your prediction is coming true. You are stuck with the freaks. This is just great.

"I only brought two, so you guys can fight over it," you say, tossing one of the granola bars at them. Stebbins, who is taller, reaches up and catches it, then holds it over his head. Barkovitch tackles him and wrestles the granola bar from his hand. "Well you two seem comfortable with each other."

Barkovitch flushes a dark red. You glance up at the sky. The sun is setting. Hm. What better time to be extremely lame and see what the cool people are doing than sunset. Stebbins smiles a very Cheshire Cat smile and the three of you are off.

It's not tough to find out where these people are. They've found the biggest house in the place; apparently one with a great sound system.

You swallow. Alright.

You can do this.

this fanfiction is always just really fun