Just to be absolutely sure I'm not stranded anywhere without a change of clothes, I packed an extra pair of everything in my trusty Extra-Thicc Trash Bag™ I use to move every year. I could use a suitcase, but they don't make any durable ones in leather. 

Although, I have to say, power walking with a trash bag has augmented my drag by a buncha percent, I guess, cuz instead of arriving before the bell, I just about make it.

Only to be met by Hayden and his ill-named Dick Mobile parked in front, with a doggy-bag on his hand. The nerve of this guy to be on my general point of view after thrusting me into sadboy twink and the Easter Island head rejects' maws. 

"Hey, brother," he says, jogging towards me. Somehow, he doesn't look as imponent compared to the half a half of a half baker's dozen that Brayden uses as goons. "I made you a Mille-Feuille. Lemon custard and dulce de leche!"

I'm not in the mood to do this. I'm already resigned to staying in my vent. Nothing annoys me in the vent. I even have two pets in the form of Pepperoni Jr and Frank Squeeknatra, the two rats that cuddle with me for warmth near midnight. 

And what best to represent that than to swipe the bag to the ground and stomp on it repeatedly while saying "Man, fuck your custard!"

"My handmade puff pastry!" he yelled, grabbing his perfectly shaven head. "Bro, what the hell?"

"Your handmade puff pastry? How about my handmade cotton undies you destroyed by being a huge brute, and making me ride your Dick Mobile and leaving me high and dry?" 

"Omygosh!" says a voice behind me – feminine, annoying, and noisy, the only things that can describe one Laila Whateverherlastnameis. "He rode Hayden's dick dry!" 

"And did you hear?" says another voice, equally annoying, noise, and just slightly less high-pitched, as it is the case for Leeland. "He rode it so hard that it broke his underwear. Ugh I want Hayden daddy to break my underwear too ugh."

Great, now his improper phrasing is rubbing on me. See? Rubbing. 

"Well, that was unfortunate, brother," he says, trying to grab me by the shoulder. What is it with my shoulder that is so grabbable? "But you don't gotta take it on the food. Food's innocent. It only wants to go into your tummy and give you a hella good time."

I do my best to shake him off, but he's not a beef boy for nothing. 

"Food made me shit myself after you squeezed me like a toothpaste!" I say. "Look, you promised that after we bunched up, things would be different. I was more than happy to be in my vent, being happy, but ever since I met you, I've been to detention twice, and keep in mind that I've only had two days of school, so two for two there; I've also been sexually harassed, made a public toilet, embarrassed in front of a curly-haired cutie, tickled to the point of urination, and officially involved with the Bangtan-Sicilian mafia. Is there any other missing?"

He looks at me for a second, scratching his chin, the sign he is monologuing. "People also think you're my boyfriend."

"Thank you!" I say. "I just forgot about that. So no, thank you. Don't want you, don't want your Dick Mobile, don't want your pasties, and don't want anything to do with Cabbage McKenzie, wherever he is. Leave me alone."

"Omygosh!" says Laila, whose voice I can now pinpoint behind a bush, stalking creepily. "Ayden just broke up with Hayden! Ugh I wanna make him mine now ugh."

"Ugh," monologues Leeland. "I want him to break up with me or break my legs Ugh."

Great, more drama. Just what I need. 

"Look, brother," he says, moving his hand from my shoulders to my arm. I don't consent to any of this. "I know he can be a bit weird, and maybe he is kind of maybe a very big idiot, but that kid has a good heart, deep, deep, deep, deep-"

"Okay, I get it," I interrupt, but the bitch keeps going and going...

"-deep, deep, deep down," he says. "This is just temporary, brother! Once we register as a club, and we have a club room on our own, we will have a safe space away from all these weirdos."

"Oh, let's see," I say. "A safe space without anyone else where I can chill and be happy with no drama. That sounds a whole lot like my fucking vent!"

"Don't be like that!" he says. "Look, just give us another shot, okay? I promise that yesterday was just a fluke. That woman ain't gonna be around us no more, and Brayden can come to school! Look, here he comes, and no drama. See?"

As he points somewhere behind me, I can practically feel the drama hitting me like a wave, like when you come back from the beach and you still feel your body being swayed back and forth, but with weirdness. What came down riding from the middle of the road was a baggy-sweater spaghetti kimchi weirdo riding a unicycle, with a huge Cadillac Escalade slowly driving behind it, which I assume is bulletproof, fireproof, and whatever other thing mafiosos get killed-proof. Backstab proof? Whatever. 

The point is, the Cadillac is slowly running behind the unicycle, with two distinctive misshapenly-shaped heads popping from either side, screaming at Brayden.

"C'mon, boss!" says Jungkook. "I mean, bro! Get in here! It's dangerous outside."

"Yeah, boss," says Harry Styles, "I mean, homie. You're exposed outside! Let us protect you!"

"i'm not getting into that fuel-burning machine!" screams Brayden. "i'm committed to saving the environment!"

"What the hell is he doing?" I ask. 

Hayden only shrugs, which is the biggest non-answer there is. "He just doesn't like leaving a carbon footprint."

"He could get a bicycle," I say. Also, I'm pretty much sure that making such a huge machine slowly inch away is burning more fuel, but what do I know? I'm powerwalk gang 4 life. 

Brayden parks in front of us, in which I mean he dismounts in a run, grabbing the unicycle behind him. His sweater today reads "I live in Spain, but without the S."

"whatup, homeboy?" he says, slapping Hayden on the chest. "master chef." 

"Small Kahuna," says Hayden. "I was just talking with Ayden here, telling him how chill everything's gonna be from now on. No drama, right?" he punctuates with a not so subtle wink. 

Brayden looks at him for a few seconds with the same eyes a pug would use to try and mind-bend a french fry from the table to the floor, before trying, and failing, to return the wink. Instead of winking, he painfully closes both eyes while making his eyes twitch like a tweaker trying to quit his nose candy, cold turkey.  

"yeah," he says, after more than an uncomfortable time of silence, and taking a drag of his Juul. "no drama here, homs. smooth sailing from here on- what the fuck is that?" 

"What's what?" asks Hayden. 

"that!" says Brayden, pointing at something beneath us. A bag, stained with pieces of puff pastry, custard, and dulce de leche. "who in the hippity-fuck would be wack enough to litter in front of this prestigious house of learning, and shit? did you see who did it? cuz I swear i'm gonna find who did it and ruin their stease."

This is it! This is my way out. If I come out as the culprit, he's gonna stay as far away from me as possible. Burning bridges is the best way for a Bad Boy to be left alone, after all. Not actual bridges, mind you, because they are made of concrete. Concrete is hard to burn. 

But before I can speak up, I feel Hayden's sausage fingers over my mouth. 

"Yeah, brother. It was...him!" says Hayden, pointing at a totally random and incredibly unremarkable person walking around. He is super normal and is not worth describing in any way.

I got to say, I didn't pint Hayden for a liar. That's cold, even for a bad boy. 

"oh, word?" says Brayden, snapping his fingers. 

Almost immediately, Jungkook and Harry appear behind him as if instantly transmitting, both of them wearing the same clothes as him, only that Jungkook's sweater reads "Yass," and Harry's reads "Queen." 

"you know what to do," says Brayden. "take care of him."

The pair nod, moving more nimbly than I care to admit, and lift the unsuspecting man from the armpits. As the poor man mumbles in confusion, he is taken somewhere outside our view, where his screams are heard only for a second, before being shut down abruptly. 

Brayden picks up the bag, putting the contents and the bag inside the proper recycling bins. And yes, Hayden's hand is still over my mouth. 

"Took care of it, boss," says Jungkook, with a weird stain in his sweater that wasn't there before. "I mean, compadre."

"good!" says Brayden. "now, shall we go in? i'm sure the bell's about to ring. gotta learn some shit, yo!"

And just as he said, the bell rings, along with the realization that Hayden just saved my easily-bruised skin.

"also," he says, poking my plastic bag, "if you don't get a biodegradable alternative to that, i'm gonna shove that crap down your throat, k? k."

Shaking these two is gonna be harder than I thought.