Page 57 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

They both start laughing, and I think they’re laughing at me. Peter and Scott have been friends since the second grade. I’m a newcomer to this friendship, so I still sort of feel like an outsider because they have a bond I don’t understand. Sometimes they hate each other, but they seemed to have made a silent commitment that nothing will get in the way of their friendship. It doesn’t matter if Scott is a complete dick, Peter is there for him. And if Peter is the biggest asshole, Scott will still stand by him. Their loyalty to this friendship is unwavering because, even when it comes to a stalemate, one of them will compromise. Peter and Scott have some very questionable qualities, but their loyalty is something I admire.

The weird thing is, when I came along and this duo became a trio, they extended the same loyalty to me as well. It doesn’t matter if we fight about big things or disagree on small things, theyalwayshave my back. I could ask them for anything, and they would do it. So, I find myself in an odd predicament because I’ve been sucked into a friendship with two guys I don’t really like, yet I would do anything for them, too.

“Dyl, you’re so sentimental,” Scott says, still chuckling. “You thought Beth and I were really in love, and I didn’t have the heart to tell you the truth.”

“I feel betrayed on some level.” And I mean that.

“I’m sorry.” He only sounds the tiniest bit remorseful. “I promise the next girl I date, I’m gonna love her forreal, so much my heart may explode. I’ll do it just for you.”

“You’re a dick.” I mean that, too.

Peter rolls his eyes. “Scott, your vagina is so wet from all this weeping it’s gonna start sprouting flowers soon. Will you shut up and get over here?”

He laughs again. “Fine, I’m coming. Be there in ten.”

Peter hands me my phone back as we walk into the kitchen. My dad greets him with a handshake, but my mother cocks up one eyebrow and glares at him.

“Peter, what brings your smug, stupid face to this side of town?”

Peter isn’t offended by this because he and my mom have a weird love-hate relationship. For some obscure reason, she adores Scott, but she’ll always give Pete a hard time just because she can. Pete has dubbed Scott the mom-whisperer because he just has a way with moms. He can do no wrong in their eyes and I don’t know how he gets it right. Every time. I wish I had that skill. It’s something that would’ve come in handy when I met Bella’s mom on Saturday night.

“I live on the next street, Lorraine,” Peter responds with disinterest. “I’m always on this side of town.”

“Well, there goes the neighborhood.” She places one hand on her hip and the other on the counter. “Who are you supposed to be tonight? You look like the less hot version of Tom Cruise fromTop Gun.”

Peter whips out a pair of Aviators and puts them on. “That’s exactly who I am.”

“What’sTop Gun?” I ask.

An audible groan of annoyance rumbles out of Peter. His father is a director, so he’s very passionate about movies. He knows the most random facts and seems to have an odd obsession with the older ones. “Am I the only one who appreciates movies from the eighties?Top Gunis a classic, Dyl. Take a break fromHigh School Musicaland give it a try sometime.”

“I’ve never even watchedHigh School Musical.” My expression moves from mildly amused to annoyed. “Why does everyone feel the need to take the piss out of me?”

“Because you make it so easy,” Peter responds.

My mother snickers and I take that as my cue to leave because she’s probably going to jump on the bandwagon soon, too. “I’m gonna get ready.”

I go up to my bedroom and just to spite Peter, I Google searchHigh School Musical,then look through my closet to find something similar to what the lead actor, Troy Bolton, is wearing. I throw on a pair of blue jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a thin red jacket. My hair is a little too short, but I try to flatten it into the same style as best I can. It’s not exact, but it’s pretty damn close.

Scott is in the kitchen when I return. He’s dressed as Jack Sparrow, and he eyes me curiously when he sees me. “And who are you? Michael Jackson in theThrillervideo?”

I look down at myself, and I guess the red jacket can work that way, too. I hand him my phone to show him the pics of theHigh School Musicalstar. He laughs, then shows Peter the screen.

“The things you’ll do to prove a point,” Peter comments wryly.

“Dylan, Scott just showed us his new car,” Mom says. “His parents bought him an Aston Martin because he got straight A’s in junior year. Maybe you should ask him for tips on how he juggled football and schoolwork. You might end up learning a few tricks and how to focus better. It wouldn’t hurt to try to be a little more like him.”

I know she means well, but...no. “Mom, Scott’s an asshole. I don’t want to be anything like him.”

The insult rolls off him, and he grins. “I’m only an asshole four days a week, Lorraine. From Friday to Sunday, I’m a stellar gentleman.”

Those two sentences are enough to coax a smile out of her. That is the type of charm Scott has. I literally just called him out for being an asshole because he is one. He confirmed it, yet my mother still believes he’s the best thing since wi-fi. He can do no wrong.

Scott turns to me. “And if it means anything to you, I’m trying to change my ways and socialize with...different types of people from all walks of life. Some of them are even...middle class. Just the other day, I spoke to your lab partner, Trevor, and he’s...great.”

“You cringed when you said that.”

“I’m working on my facial expressions as well. My goal is to only be an asshole, like, twice a week.”

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