Brandon. Yes, THAT Brandon.

You What?

"Leave us alone," Chris snaps. "Just because I wouldn't sleep with you--"

"I don't care about you, Barbie. I have fifty other girls to choose from. My question was: why? What proof does he have that he's not a complete fag?" Mitchell raises his eyebrows, crosses his arms, as if he's completely intrigued by his own question.

"He dated me."

"Cover-up, all gay dudes have 'em," Marshall shrugs. "Mitchell's brother, Michael did." Mitch slowly turns around to glare at his supposed best friend. "What? Michael did. I remember he had dudes stay the night when we were in middle school. It was nasty. We could hear them. We never saw them, though, cause he'd sneak them in. Remember when he made that girl tell everyone... he... uh..." Marshall slows when Mitchell is right in his face. "Nevermind. Not Mitchell's brother. He d-doesn't even have a... brother? Who-who is Michael? Or was it Mike... hell, I-I don't know because he doesn't exist! Ha...ha?"

I'd high five Marshall, but he doesn't even know what he just did.

"You. Are. Such. A. Goddamn. Idiot. Why do I put up with you?" Mitch hisses. "For someone with an IQ of 20, you are still a shame to all stupid people. I don't even think you would know your own name if I didn't keep calling you by it every. Damn. Day, Marshall. Please explain to me why you are so dumb. I'd like to hear it." Christina and I simply back away slowly.

"I feel like this is really bad..." I whisper.

"I want to watch, but I'm scared," she whispers back. "I think we should--"

"Wait to get our food?" I finish. "Mhmm. Sounds good." We slowly make our way back to the table we were previously seated, and take our seats again to witness Mitch bite Marshall's head off. The sad part is, Marshall has to ask what 'incompetent' means halfway through Mitchell's spew.

* * * * *

Christina and I aren't even paying much attention to the bickering until we hear a stronger voice snap: "Bite me, Mitch." Great. Derek is here. I actually wanted to enjoy my food. Did all of West Crimson High just decide to eat at Taco Bell today? Although I'd love to watch other people screw their lives up rather than myself, I don't want to have to run today because of the inadequacy of my teammates. Don't do anything stupid, Derek. Just stand there and look pretty.

Oh, there are taco bits in his hair. Not so pretty.

"Derek makes a shitty comeback. Unfortunately, not a 'Furst'," Mitch spits.

"Do you really want to do this right now?" Derek fumes. "Because I swear to all things holy I will kick your skinny little ass."

"Only if you throw the 'Furst' punch--" and whack! Mitch spoke too soon. Derek snatches him by the front of his blue bro-tank and lays a brutal punch right square in the middle of Mitchell's face. I stand up and look around for Carter. Well, great. Chaos, and nothing but.

Mitch wails something inhuman as he rolls around on the ground, a crimson faucet staining his shirt.

"Ohmygod. We need to--" Chris starts. She grabs my arm.

"Yep!" I agree. Sprinting to my truck, we get away from the not so quiet Taco Bell. "Do-you-think-he-broke-his-nose?" I ask between footsteps.

"I-hope-so!" Chris responds, out of breath. Tip for the future: don't tell Derek to take the 'Furst' punch.

* * * * *

"Mitchell's nose is broken," Marshall says to me during seventh hour.

"Good...?" I reply. "He's an idiot."

"See? He calls me dumb, but he does things I'd never do. Like pick a fight with you in front of the whole cafeteria. That was dumb," Marshall hands me a piece of gum. I stare at it for a second.

"Because I'd kiss you?" I inspect the Orbit strip. No signs of damage or tapering. Smells like spearmint.

"No, because you'd beat me to a pulp," Marshall laughs. "Gosh, sometimes I feel like people are dumber than me sometimes." He chuckles again. "Oh man. I get a kick out of that one."

"Why do you think you're dumb?" I ask seriously, deciding to chew the gum he gave me.

"Because Mitch has like a 4.0 GPA, and he says I'm dumb. I only have a 3.2 or something. Gum?"

"You... just gave me a piece. And just because people tell you you're something, doesn't mean you are," I mutter. Am I really giving Marshall advice?

"I know. Just because someone tells you you're a ginger, doesn't mean you're a ginger."

"Um, sure."

"Like, Mitch tells you you're gay, but you're not. I get the philosophy behind that," Marshall nods. Philosophy. I'm losing brain cells. Hold on... did he just say--

"Woah woah. What did you just say?"

"I know you're not a fag. No one thinks you are but Mitch. He's freaking annoying about it. He throws a Mitch-Fit whenever the girls talk about you. I only stay with him because I have nothing better to do."

"So you really just back him up on whatever he does?" I ask. What a terribly great friend.

"Yeah, especially now, since Michael is in town."