[[a/n: this is a bit overdue but thanks so much for all the nice reviews. they mean a lot to me. i wasn't totally sure with how well this story would fly in the ff community but i'm glad people like it.]]

It was Pinky's idea to go to the carnival later that night after a discussion on what we should do for the evening, but it was Tad's idea to invite Justin.

Tad was aware of the animosity between Justin and I, so honestly, I felt somewhat betrayed. After hearing that he had invited the sod along a few minutes before we left, I pulled Tad aside to express to him my discontent. I was hoping for it to just be him, Pinky, and I. The idea of Justin tagging along with us killed my enthusiasm.

"Don't be so petty," was all Tad said to me afterwards.

I considered Tad one of my best friends. In fourth grade, he assured me that the feeling was mutual; he viewed me as a best friend, too. I knew I couldn't control who Tad hung around with, but it still annoyed me that my best friend hung around with someone I couldn't stand. I hated it when people didn't dislike the same people I did.

Tad and Justin, supposedly, had a lot in common. When inquiring to Tad about what those things were, he gave me the obvious: they were both rich and they both disliked the Greasers. Sure, those were similarities. Everyone in our clique shared those things in common, including myself, but no one ever saw Justin and I hanging out with each other. I had absolutely no clue what the two of them could possibly bond over.

Something in the back of my mind was forcing me to think that Justin had asked to come instead of waiting to be invited, as Tad was a total pushover and rarely invited other people to join our outings himself. The prat always did whatever he could to ensure he was constantly a few steps behind me. He had serious issues.

I found it odd of Justin to want to hang out with us anyways. Tad, Pinky, and I were all fifteen, and he was three years older than us. Bryce and Parker were his age, why couldn't he go hang out with them instead of some minors? It was weird.

It was around seven when we left. The walk from Harrington House to the carnival was a relatively long one by itself, but Justin's presence made it feel much longer. I supposed that Tad was Pinky's date for the evening, as they walked together arm in arm the entire distance. The three of them spoke with each other, but I remained silent.

Justin was so annoying.

"So," Justin started once we were about halfway there, next to the boardwalk. "I heard that a kid fell out of the Big Squid last weekend."

Pinky gasped, not out of shock, but more excitement. "I love the Big Squid! I wanna go on that ride first!" She pulled at Tad's arm. "Tad, go on the Big Squid with me, please?"

"I would, but I'd probably throw up like I did last year."

"How about you, Gord?" Justin nudged my shoulder. "You up for a spin on the Big Squid?"

I groaned rather loudly. "No." It came out much angrier than I'd intended.

Pinky and Tad stopped walking, Justin stopping along with them, leaving me to inadvertently continue forward. I glanced over my shoulder, realizing that I was the only one moving, and turned to face them. "What? Why aren't we going?"

Pinky looked upset. "Gord, if you don't want to go to the carnival-"

"I do want to go to the carnival! What are you talking about?" My voice had the tendency to crack whenever I was agitated. It was Justin's fault.

Tad shifted his shoulders. The two of them were obviously aware of why I wasn't in my best mood. It was like an elephant in the room. "You sound irate."

"Irate? I'm not irate! I'm completely at ease! I assure you," I yelled at them, flailing my arms to the sides. I looked over at Justin who smirked at me.

Justin cleared his throat. "Well then..." He started forward, holding eye contact with me as he spoke. "...let's continue, shall we?"

The carnival was a rather run down place, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. I'd consider it to be the primary hangout spot for Bullworth kids, as pretty much everyone could be found there. There wasn't too much to do in this town, but even if there was I'd imagine the carnival would be able to hold its status as Bullworth's main source of entertainment for its children. The rides were rickety and the games were like robbery, and the food probably carried a few minor diseases, but despite everything, it was a good time.

Though, on that particular night, I couldn't bring myself to enjoy the evening. Not only because Justin was there, although that definitely had much to do with it, but because I expected those Townie kids to be there. Getting beaten up by a bunch of poor kids in front of my friends was not on my list of agendas for tonight.

The four of us emerged from the tunnel, a horizon shaped in lights wrought before us. Pinky bounced in place, hands clapping eagerly. "I want to get some cotton candy first! And then I want to play some games, and then..."

"Easy, Pinky. Don't wear yourself out," Tad advised. "Now, who's paying for tonight?"

"I'll pay," Justin offered. He patted me on the shoulder, startling me a bit. Prat.

There was a line at the ticket booth, so Tad, Pinky, and I waited off to the side while Justin paid for us. The two of them chatted about what they planned on doing at the carnival (actually, it was more Pinky talking a thousand miles a minute and Tad nodding his head when appropriate). I didn't feel like chatting.

The Townies' spot was occupied, but by just one of them.

Duncan.

Duncan, oddly, stood alone, none of his Townie friends anywhere to be found. He was in their usual loiter spot, leaning against the wall, but it was only him. Strange. Sad, even. The lone Townie.

He had on a plaid flannel shirt which appeared to have gone through some rough usage over that same dirty white one I'd always seen him wear. His jeans, torn and beaten, were tucked into scuffed combat boots. His left eye stained a blueish purple from our night before, and an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

In addition to looking very poor, he looked... very lorn.

He was fussing with a disposable lighter, probably trying to light his cigarette. He flicked the wheel several times, only for it to spark once and then give out. I had my Zippo lighter in my pocket, and considered walking over there to give him a hand. Actually, for some reason I couldn't comprehend, I wanted to help him out. Maybe I felt as though I owed it to him for bruising his face.

He stopped, pausing for a moment before eyeing me over his lighter. I hadn't noticed that I'd been staring. I couldn't exactly read his expression; maybe it didn't say anything.

"Hey peon." Justin's nasally voice snapped me back into reality. "Aren't you coming?"

Duncan looked back down to his lighter, ignoring me once again. I breathed in deeply and continued into the carnival with my friends. And Justin.

The cotton candy booth was Pinky's favorite. Spinning it yourself was optional, but she always chose to do so. It was fun for her. She once told me that spinning the stick around the bowl was almost hypnotic. The vendor let her have as much as she wanted, on the house. He told her it was because she seemed so excited, but Pinky was rather developed for her age.

Pinky had her eye on a puppy poster for twenty tickets in the prize tent and urged Tad to win it for her. It took him about half an hour at the Strikeout game, and after his first two attempts his motivation to win was more frustration with the taunting vendor than it was winning for Pinky. Imagining the targets were his father seemed to help his performance. The dog on the poster was really stupid looking, if I do say so myself.

Justin leaned over to me. "Want me to win you a puppy poster?"

I rolled my eyes.

It was probably a terrible idea, but we decided to eat before going on any of the rides. We all split a slice of pizza, as the slices served there were huge. The pizza was good, despite being terribly greasy. Justin wouldn't shut up about how the Greasers probably use the carnival pizza to style their hair. I admit, it was funny the first several times. But Justin doesn't know when to quit.

I needed a break.

I cleared my throat. "Yes, well... I need to excuse myself." They all looked at me, confused, but before anyone could say anything I was already off. They probably figured I left to find an adequate place to use the restroom (those portable toilets weren't up to my standards) since I ran off towards the exit. But no, I wasn't.

I was off to speak to Duncan. Disgusting, ugly, dirty, poor, trashy Duncan. I didn't know why I had the urge to talk to him, since I hadn't planned on asking him to purchase smokes for me. But perhaps I'd use that to break the ice.

He was still in his same spot, sitting atop the seat of a bike I hadn't seen him with before, leaning his elbows on the handles as he lazily flicked at his lighter, hoping for it to ignite. The bike was slightly too tall for him, his shoes dangling above the ground below, so I figured it wasn't his. He hadn't appeared to have had much luck with his lighter since our last encounter, the same unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

I took a deep breath before starting towards Duncan, as fidgety and nervous as the night I first approached him.

"Um, h-hello."

He looked to see who had spoken to him, returning to his lighter upon realizing it was me. "What do you want?"

The air was... so very heavy. "I was just wondering..."

He looked back to me. For a split second, his face looked hopeful, almost as though he were anticipating me to say something friendly in nature, perhaps even apologize.

But that wasn't going to happen. It wasn't my thing.

"...if you could buy me another pack of cigarettes?" I smiled brightly, as though that would help his decision. I didn't know what else to say to him.

His face sank. Then he laughed. "You smoke up the pack I bought you last night already?" Another flick at his lighter. "You smoke more than my mom."

I groaned. "I haven't been smoking those." He probably figured that.

He shook his head, feigning disappointment. "What a waste."

I was growing impatient, despite that I hardly cared whether or not he'd buy them for me. "So is that a yes?"

"Okay dude, am I like the only person dumb enough to take your money or something?" he inquired sarcastically, looking up from his lighter. "There's tons of people here tonight. Go ask someone else." Reading his face as a whole, I was bothering him. But his eyes translated a sort of humor, as though my presence was amusing him somehow.

And it was so aggravating.

I could feel my cheeks flush. My hands clenched into fists and a temper built up in my throat. "No, you aren't the only person dumb enough, prat!"

He raised his brows, flustered by my sudden outburst, probably expecting me to assault him again.

"You're just the dumbest person close enough who won't tell my parents that I could ask without going to New Coventry! So you'd better learn your place and do what I say or risk losing the greatest amount of money you'd ever receive without having to whore yourself on the streets!"

He stared for a moment, brows still raised, unlit cigarette still dangling from his cracked lips. Then he snorted. "Wow. Nicotine withdrawal, much?"

As much as I hate to admit it, that probably was the source of my outburst. A groan escaped my mouth.

He smirked. "What's wrong with going down to New Coventry? I go there all the time."

I didn't answer.

"You scared?" He pouted his lower lip and pulled his gravelly voice into a babyish one, like pitying a young child. "The big bad Greaseballs gonna tear your sweater?"

I still didn't say anything.

He scoffed, returning his focus to his lighter. "Get lost, kid."

My mood shifted abruptly when I looked at his eye. I wasn't exactly sure what I was feeling. It was unlike anything I'd ever truly felt before in my life. It was strange, something like a large pain and sorrow combined into one, like something was eating at my insides.

I felt... bad. But the worst part about this feeling was the fact that I couldn't explain exactly why I was experiencing it.

I wanted to think it was the lack of nicotine.

"Alright duder, seriously, you need to find a friend. Anyone, they can be imaginary." He shooed at me. "Just go away and leave me alone."

I swallowed. "Where are your friends?"

I was legitimately bothering him at this point. "Why do you care?"

"I just..." I rubbed my arm. He had every right to be angry with me. He had performed an act of kindness and I returned his favor by giving him a black eye. "...you look..."

He waited.

"...lonely."

I thought the worst. Maybe that's why that Gurney and Omar duo had been so friendly with me. Duncan had told them some schoolboy stained his face, and his friends in turn kicked him from their clique. I felt terrible. Duncan may have been poor, dirty trash, but no one deserved that.

I fought a tear welling up in the corner of my eye.

He burst out laughing after a moment. "They're in the carnival. The cops told me I can't smoke in there."

I stared at him.

I had just spent all that time feeling bad about what I had done to a poor person for nothing?

I was disgusted with myself.

I rolled my eyes, indignant. "Listen Duncan-" Speaking to him by his name felt odd to me. It must have been even odder for him to hear it from my mouth.

He bellowed a laugh. "You remembered my name?" he interrupted me. "Wow, dude, I'm actually surprised! I didn't think you rich pricks remembered anything that didn't have to do with yourselves!"

The only reason I actually remembered his name was because I hated it, honestly. It was so obnoxious. Duncan.

Duncan.

I hated that name.

It was such a...

Such a...

Such a poor person name.

He smiled at me. "I don't know your name."

I really didn't want to tell him my name, but he wouldn't stop looking at me with that stupid crooked smile. I felt obligated. "My name is Gord," I told him reluctantly.

"Gord," he pronounced to himself, very literally, letter by letter, as though trying out the feel of my name on his lips. He looked me up and down and chuckled. "Not the name I would've given you."

"Excuse me?" Perhaps I was wrong to be offended, but everything he said angered me. "What's wrong with my name?"

He brought his hands up in defense. "Nothing! It's just... not what I would've named you, that's all. You look more like a..."

I stared at him hard.

"...like a Miller, or a Scott."

Miller or Scott. Those names were probably trashier than Duncan.

"I hate those names. I'll have you know I was named after my father, who is a very successful man."

He snorted. "That's funny," he said quietly, more to himself than to me, as he continued flicking at his lighter. "Whatever, kid. I don't feel like buying anything for anyone right now." He gave up on his lighter, tossing it to the ground. "While you're here though, you got a light?"

What a prat. "No, I don't. Sorry."

And with that, I left him, back to the carnival.

I entered the gates. Justin was standing there, off to the side, easy to miss. Which I did. His disembodied voice was what gave him away.

"Mingling with the homeless kids again?"

Honestly, his presence didn't startle me. It was sad, really, that I had grown so used to him being there. I stopped to turn to him. "Mind your own business."

Justin smirked. "I figured." He walked over to my side, gently pushing me forward, signaling me to follow along with him. "I saw you staring at one of them earlier. You looked so eager."

Eager? "What does that mean?"

"Those plebeians make you feel alive, don't they?"

"What on Earth are you talking about?"

He stepped in front of me. We were near the prize tent at this point, and I could see Pinky and Tad in line at the Big Squid ride from where we stood. Justin gave me a look, like he thought he knew something.

I furrowed my brows, legitimately not understanding what he meant. Then I thought about it...

My jaw dropped. Disgusting, absolutely vile. "You think I'm having relations with that kid?"

He grinned, smug.

"That is..." Putrid, sickening, not to mention low-class and offensive. "...not true."

I was telling the truth, but Justin wasn't taking it. "Mhm."

I had no clue what to say at that point. Where on Earth would he get an idea like that from? "All he does is buy me cigarettes. Business transactions are all I've ever done with that piece of trash. How dare you even think anything more than that!"

He laughed. "You're awfully defensive."

Justin glanced around, and then pulled me aside by the arm, behind the prize tent.

"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded, attempting to shake off his grip. I was actually worried he'd try to beat me up. Even if I was sleeping with the Townies, it was a pretty flimsy reason to act violently against me.

He dug into his jacket pocket, holding me in place by the shoulder with his other hand. "Here. I bought this with you in mind." He took my hand and placed a pack of mint flavored cigarettes into my palm, folding my fingers around it. I couldn't believe my eyes. "It's on the house."

I stared at the pack in my hand for a moment before opening it. Call me dramatic, but I had never witnessed a sight so beautiful in all of my life. The pack itself was white with golden relief lettering, very long and thin. The filters were an airy shade of pastel blue with golden banding near the body of the cigarettes. I pulled one out, being very careful, as though they were the most fragile things I'd ever handled in my life.

They were much longer and thinner than the stubby gas station cigarettes I had grown so used to. They felt... elegant.

I was confused. "Why did you buy these for me?" My brows furrowed. "I thought smoking was bad for me."

He chuckled. "Just say thank you, Justin."

I looked up at him. He still had that dreadfully cocky expression upon his face that he always seemed to have, but for once it didn't translate any actual cockiness. It was almost as though he legitimately wanted to do something nice for me.

I said, "Thank you."