— Art had been your best friend when you guys were little, it was that way because your moms were best friends and he was your next door neighbor.

When Arts mom died, he was twelve and it was like his whole world had flipped. Gone was the sweet, loving, boy next door, your best friend. He’d been replaced by a quiet, loner, passive-aggressive, stoner.

Not that you could blame him, you’d probably turn out the same way if you were in his shoes.

His dad was no help either, he’d turned to alcoholism after her death. It was gut wrenching and you felt for him, in your heart, he was still your best friend.

Through the years, while Art dropped down the social scale, somehow you’d landed near the top— not that it was on purpose, you were ‘popular’ but not in the way that you’re a bitch.

You had love in your heart for just about everything and anyone, except people who thought they were better than others just for being more known and play a sport.

On a friday night, a friend of a friend was hosting an annual end-of-year party, almost everyone from your grad class was there because it was senior year and you’d all be graduating in merely two weeks.

Surprisingly, Art had shown up. You’d assumed he was there for the drinks or whatever product was someone would definitely be selling.

What ticked you off, is the fact that this group of guys: real assholes, the whole ‘jock’ stereotype. Didn’t waste ten minutes before going over to him to pick on him.

Half of them had hit on you before, so now was probably the best time to put your ‘popular’ status to good use and get them to back off.