Page 6 of The Beginning and End of Everything
"Want to go swing?" Connor asked.
"Sure."
Brandon immediately snapped, “No.”
Connor shrugged and grabbed another cookie on our way to the backdoor. I couldn’t understand why Connor, who was always smiling and sweet, would choose to be best friends with a grouch like Brandon.
Outside, a thick blanket of gray clouds covered the sky, making the day seem as dreary as I felt, and the chilly breeze didn’t help. Quietly, I followed Connor to the corner of the yard where he plopped down on the swing set, causing the rusted chains to creak. I took the swing next to him and grabbed the cold, metal links, using my shoe to draw a line through the patch of dirt when I took a seat.
"Why are you even friends with him?"
"Dunno. Just am."
I picked up my feet to swing. "He's a butthole."
"Yeah, sometimes. But he can be nice, too."
I almost laughed at the thought of Brandon O’Kieffe being nice.
Connor pushed back, trying to match my rhythm. "He doesn't like girls. He says they have cooties."
That was the dumbest thing I had ever heard. If anyone in the whole of Ireland had cooties, it was Brandon. Half of the time, he didn’t even look like he bathed. "I don't have cooties!”
"I know." His sneakers scuffed the grass to slow down a bit, and a plume of dust flew up in front of us. "I like you, though.”
"Well,you'renice. He's not." I glanced toward the house.
Brandon stood at the screened door, watching us with a frown. He crossed his arms over his chest, and his unhappiness deepened. Sometimes, I wondered if he worried that I was stealing Connor. After all, Connor was the only kid that didn’t call Brandon a gypo or a pikey, the only boy who never made fun of Brandon’s clothes that were sometimes too small or riddled with holes. Sure, Brandon was mean, but everyone outside of Connor treated him terribly. I thought, maybe he expected me to be like them, too… Maybe that’s why he didn’t like me.
On a hard huff, I dragged the toes of my shoes across the grass, slowing myself down to jump from the swing.
A single dandelion had sprouted from one of the cracked paving stones, and I snatched it on my way to the porch. I knew that girls liked flowers, and maybe Brandon might think it was sissy. But really, a dandelion was a weed. Surely, a boy could appreciate a weed.
Brandon backed away from the screen door when I opened it and handed him the weed.
"I picked it for you. Thought it might make you happy.”
My mother had always taught me that sometimes people just need someone to be nice to them. She thought kindness was the elixir for most pain. Naively, I truly believed that was all it was…
4
Brandon
It had been three days since I’d ripped the head off Poppy’s dumb Barbie. That was the first time I understood what it meant to feel guilty. I checked my pocket to make sure the wilted dandelion was still there while I waited outside Connor’s.
“Ma? I’m going out with Brandon.”
"Be back for tea!" Mrs. Blaine shouted before the door banged shut behind him.
“Wanna swing?” he asked.
I headed through the gate at the front of his house. “Nah.”
"Wanna go to the pikey camp?"
"We're going into town."
Behind me, I could hear the rattle of Connor fighting with the gate latch before he came jogging up beside me, already winded. "Town?”
