a matter of maturity.

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((chapter 4))

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disclaimer: the clique and its numerous sequels do not belong to me. unfortunately, i don't own jimmy eat world or "hear you me" either.

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maturity: recognizing that the world is full of good and evil and that everyone and everything are capable of both, and then coping appropriately with this knowledge

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massie

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A split second before it happened, she was doubting it actually would. The notion had crossed her mind, but she had shooed it away, deeming it implausible. But as soon as she heard his fingers grip onto the door hinge, she knew that it was inevitable. There then came the unpleasant sound of rotted wood cracking, and bits of metal clinked to the floor.

Derrick Harrington had ripped the door off its hinges. Her door. Simultaneously the spectators spoke.

"Oh my," Claire's blue eyes were wide and her body frozen.

"Derrick! Claire? I'm so sorry! I'll…I'll…Derrick!"

Cam's face matched the Kennebunkport nail polish Massie had purchased purposefully for wearing during her exile. Had Derrick seen this, he might have jumped out Massie's open window. But, he wasn't paying any attention to Cam. His eyes were locked on Massie, which was why he heard her deadpanned whisper.

"It wasn't locked."

Massie met Derrick's gaze and the feeling came back. The butterflies had gone gung-ho.

"May I come in?"

And then it was gone.

"It's going to take more than just the removal of a door to get your ego through," Massie snapped, but her brain betrayed her and with the faintest of movements, her head bobbed.

Derrick grinned, "Not to worry. You've deflated it enough already."

With a swift movement of toned goalie arms and legs, he set the dismembered door onto the ground and stepped inside.

Massie watched as Derrick glanced back at Cam and Claire. The latter of which was well beyond the point of hyperventilation. She fanned herself with both hands vigorously, not believing what was happening. Massie wasn't sure if her state of dire panic was caused by Derrick's idiotic behavior or because Cam had an arm around her shoulders and had begun slowly leading her back down the hall.

"Is it okay if we talk? I want to apologize and—"

Massie whipped her head around to find Derrick a few feet away from where she sat on the lavender bedspread, drumming her fingers across a window pane. Had he honestly misinterpreted her insult as latent compliance?

"Get out."

"But I—"

"Now."

From the hallway, two sets of ears twitched in anticipation. Their feet stopped moving, waiting for whatever was to come next. Two hearts' delight, as Cam's arm remained wrapped across Claire's shoulders. Butterflies fluttered in both of their chests. They glanced at each other and shared a shy smile. Said unfolding scenario, and the nauseating fact that Derrick Harrington was approaching, made Massie want to barf.

After what seemed like one thousand lifetimes, Derrick drew in a breath to respond and abruptly changed his mind.

"Okay. Bye, Massie."

Massie blinked. Hiding the shock on her face was pointless. Cam cocked his head in surprise. Claire drawled an audible sigh of relief. Derrick turned, shoulders drooping, head down. As he slumped closer to the door, Derrick moved at the speed of a slug.

"Wait."

Massie's jaw dropped as soon as the word left her lips. Claire's eyes widened. Cam slapped a hand to his forehead. Derrick froze.

Cautiously, Derrick spun to face Massie. She offered him an uneasy smile before peering out the doorway at Claire and Cam, who hovered precariously in the hallway. Realizing that the tension in the upstairs hallway was ugly and heated enough without their presence, Cam and Claire anxiously made their way downstairs, hand-in-hand.

For an indescribable amount of time Massie and Derrick waited in silence, neither of them quite sure what the next step was. Her mind was reeling, her heart was racing, her palms were sweatier than ever. She couldn't help but steal a glimpse at Derrick. What was he thinking? She expected him to look away shyly when she caught him staring, but he made no such move. Why wasn't he saying anything? Earlier she gauged him as the type she'd have to pay to keep quiet; his lips were pressed into a line. Maybe he suddenly realized how bad of an idea running his mouth around her was.

Massie chewed at an already raw lip, both bored and unnerved by the lack of sound.

"You can come in."

"Oh, right."

"You can sit down. I'm not going to bite," she proposed.

Wordlessly, Derrick sat himself down in a white wooded rocking chair. He rocked back-and-forth, contemplating. He still wasn't talking. When it became apparent that Derrick wasn't going to say anything, Massie did.

"Do you want to, like, talk or something?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"…"

"…"

"..."

Finally she lost it.

"Okay, listen. God, I hate when people open with that. I mean, obviously they're already listening right? Anyway…Okay. I'm just going to say it. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't interact with people well. Or at all really. I'm moody and bossy and controlling. I detest being told what to do. I'm stubborn and I get what I want. I—God, what am I doing? Why am I even telling you this? I don't even know you."

There's no one in town I know

Why was she telling him this? The question pounded in her head. It felt like something inside of her had burst and years of repressed emotional-vomit was spewing from her mouth like water from a jammed water fountain.

Unbeknownst to rambling Massie, her tirade earned a grin from Derrick. The sincerity in her voice astounded him.

"Because," his eyes leveled hers with a look of confidence. "I'm here and I'm listening. Talk to me, Massie. Tell me what's wrong. Tell me the truth. You can tell me anything. I'll listen to you."

You gave [me] someplace to go

With that, Massie started to weep and then Derrick was there at her side. She melted into his chest, wiping her eyes dry on his immaculately pressed shirt. His proclaimed desire to listen to her caused the unraveling and brought on the onslaught of hormonal-teenage tears. No one listened to her. But they did listen if a machine monitored her heartbeat. It didn't matter if her outfit was fresh off the runway or if her handbag had yet to hit stores. She only mattered if she donned a lead apron or an IV.

Massie spent years building up a wall to keep everyone out. But with one simple sentence, Derrick Harrington brought them crashing down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Discuss her personal life with an extremely cute and extremely strange boy who just watched her experience a mental breakdown? No thank you.

I never said thank you for that

Massie shook her head. "But if there's something else…"

"Okay. I have a proposition for you," Derrick began.

"I'm listening," Massie quipped.

"How would you feel about playing a little game I like to call Truths? From here on out, you and I are going to be completely honest with each other. No questions asked. I don't know you. You don't know me. We can say whatever we want as long as it's true. No questions. Just truths. How easy is it to tell a complete stranger your deepest darkest secrets? It should be painless. Really. Like confession, if your Catholic."

Her expression was blank. But her mind was whirling with questions.

"Are you serious? Why would I tell you anything? I don't know you."

"That's the thing. If you don't know me, what does it matter if I know your secrets? You, my dear, clearly need someone to talk to. And I'm here, willing to listen. What have you got to lose?"

Massie stared at him. He was serious. Her face gave nothing away, a practiced mask. She weighed the consequences. What did she have to lose? Honestly, she had less than six months to live, tops. But beginning a relationship of any kind with Derrick wouldn't make dying any easier—she was no longer in denial about the obvious attraction between them. Did she really want to drag him into this?

"Oh come on. We can tell each other what we can't tell our friends," he teased.

Then again, dying was never easy. Having someone to talk to would be nice. Derrick had said that he wanted to talk to her. It had been his idea. So she wouldn't really be dragging him into it? He was more of a willing participant. No one had ever offered to talk to her before, not unless her parents paid them of course. And he said it'd be the truth. Massie was so sick of being on both ends of a lie. But, so far all the talking she and Derrick had done led to arguments. Could she really talk to him? Not that she minded arguing. It was a particularly strong suit of hers. And it was fun. Especially with him.

And besides that, there was the obvious point that she was dying. Did it really matter if she made friends with strange boys and told them her secrets on her deathbed?

I thought I might get one more chance

"Okay."

"Okay? Really? You're agreeing? This is—"

"Only temporarily. And because I've never had anyone to talk to before," she added in a whisper. "Oh! And only if you play, too."

Derrick was quiet for a moment. "I've seen every Mary-Kate and Ashley movie ever made. More than once. And I like them."

"Permission to ask a question?" she requested, still unsure why she was playing along.

"Granted."

"What's your favorite?"

"Our Lips are Sealed. You're turn?"

"I can't stand chick-flicks. Happy endings give me hives," she shivered, remembering all the chick-flicks she'd sat through in agony.

Derrick concurred with an expression of disgust. "Do I sense a story?"

"Before Kendra and William practically deported me, I used to go to the movies at least once every week. And we always saw one of those sappy-romantic-comedies. Even when it was my turn to chose, I picked one. I wanted to fit in so desperately. I wanted to have friends. I was willing to suffer through an hour and a half of torture and pondering whether or not to eat my own ears."

"My favorite pair of boxers are magenta."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Seriously. Whenever one of the guys comes over and I haven't put my laundry away—which is pretty much every time, by the way—I lie and say my Great Aunt Gertrude mails me a pair every year or some kind of bull like that. But it's not true."

"I've never been kissed," she confessed, not quite sure why her brain had picked this particular secret to share. Her head tilted to the side in embarrassment.

What would you think of me now?

"Me neither."

Massie perked up.

"I made up some chick at summer camp to tell the guys about. But the truth it, Cam kissed her not me. If anyone asked, her name was Nikki."

She smiled. "I told all of my friends I lost my lip virginity in like fifth grade. They were all so impressed that they asked me to teach them how it kiss. I've lost count of the number of times I've used the line 'I don't kiss and tell'."

"Works like a charm, doesn't it?" he grinned.

"Are we going to tell each other real secrets, too?"

"What? Are you making yours up?"

Massie shot him a malicious look.

"I meant real as in more serious, duh. You know, like the deep dark kind of secrets."

"Massie Block, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. One, barley two hours after we met and you're already searching for skeletons in my closet. And two, 'duh' is so outdated. Tsk tsk tsk," Derrick clicked his tongue at her.

Massie cocked her head at him, careful not to display the confusion stirring in her mind on her face or lips. Derrick shied away from that topic awfully fast. Why? Did he have something to hide? He proposed the Truth game in the first place. Why suggest a game if you didn't really want to play? What could he possibly have to hide? It was a given that neither of them would divulge any piece of their conversations to another. What kind of secret was it that he couldn't even tell a total stranger? She was intrigued now. Massie excelled at reading people and Derrick was obviously an open book. He shouldn't even have secrets. She decided not to bring it up again, let things simmer if you will. Massie loved a good mystery like she a pair of Loubitons. And after all, she did have all summer.

"I still make wishes at 11:11," Massie admitted, more to herself than Derrick, in an attempt to break the awkward silence she imposed moments before.

"There's always something to hope for," Derrick agreed.

What Derrick didn't understand was that anything Massie might hope for was an entirely different caliber than he could expect.

So lucky,

It wasn't stamped across her face, or flashing across her chest in sequins—eww! Everything was locked inside of her and it took every bit of strength to keep it there.

So stong,

What Derrick didn't know wouldn't hurt him—or her. The discovery of her ailment wasn't the largest potential fly in her ointment—dying, hello!—but still, Massie couldn't bear the pitying looks or offers for help or the general air that comes with being near a person once they know you're terminally ill. It reeked.

So proud

She bit her tongue, capturing the wit saturated retort with her teeth. Massie looked at him dismally.

Derrick gawked at her, in shock. "Massie. There's always hope. Be realistic, here."

"I'm being perfectly realistic. I don't have any hope. Not anymore."

"Come on! You've got to have hope."

"Yeah well, hope keeps disappointing me."

There was a knock from the hallway, halting any further questions. Cam stood where the door should have been, had it not been ripped from its hinges earlier. He glanced from Derrick to Massie with a knowing look on his face.

I never said thank you for that

"Claire wanted me to come up and tell you that we have to leave soon. Apparently she and Massie have been summoned by her mother. I'll wait for you downstairs on the porch."

He gave Cam a nod and as he retreated down the hall Derrick scoffed, "Impossible."

"What do you mean impossible?"

"Hope is the opposite of disappointment, Massie. That's just the way it is."

She stared at him for a minute, her nose crinkling in thought. "Maybe in your world, Derrick. But not in mine. Not anymore."

now I'll never have a chance.

"I don't understand."

"No one does. No one even tries," her voice grew quieter.

"I'm trying, remember?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "Yeah, I guess you are."

Derrick reached for her hand and held it in his. Blood pooled in her cheeks. Massie diverted her attention to the window where Claire was giggling on the porch. She saw Cam check his watch, a Rolex presumably.

"You should go," Massie said, glancing at the doorway.

"I know. But I don't want to leave you," he said, standing up. "There's a cookout tonight. First of the summer. I'd really like you to come. Claire knows about it, I'm sure. But I doubt she'll show up without your insistence."

"Won't she want to spend time with Cam?"

"Yeah but she won't be the only one," he alluded cryptically.

Before Massie could ask what he meant he kissed the top of her head.

may angles lead you in. hear you me my friends.

"What was that for?" she asked, looking up.

But Derrick was already half-way out the door.

"Please come tonight. I'll be looking for you."

Massie's eyes followed him as he flew through the hall and heard him skipping every other step on the stairs. Her heart thumped in time with his erratic steps. He kissed her. On the head albeit, but it still counted, right?

Sure, and debit cards really are just as good as credit.

There was something about Derrick Harrington. It wasn't his charm or his good looks. And it definitely wasn't his way with words. But it was there. And she was determined to figure it out, even if it was the death of her. Because Derrick Harrington cracked her, she needed to crack him. The iron façade she built for almost three years crumbled down in seconds.

on sleepless roads the sleepless go.

All because of a boy and with big mouth.

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a/n: salutations! it's been months. if anyone is still reading this, thank you and i'm sorry. i won't bore you with details of my personal life, but i will offer the knowledge that the internet on my laptop is busted.

if you're a lyric buff, you might get on me about how these don't exactly fit. and you're indubitably correct; they do not. note and file it for later (aka foreshadowing). feedback is always appreciated :]. i hope this update finds you enjoying what's left of summer, before the impending doom that is school falls upon us all. i'll shut up.

happy august!

ps: if you haven't heard of jimmy eat world, your ears have been living in deprivation. i highly recommend that you change that with haste :]