Stopping Eddie

"Where are you going?" I ask in a hiss, stepping out and around as he steps out of earshot of them.

Eddie scowls and shrugs, giving a glance back over his shoulder that goes utterly unnoticed by the two of them.

"They've got history," he says, "I knew I couldn't compete."

I let out a long slow breath of frustration. It's just like Eddie to give up immediately, without ever really giving it a shot.

"Eddie," I say cautiously, not wanting to make the situation even worse, "It's like day three of this shit. They didn't know each other before college started, it's not like their old friends or anything. The groups have been set up so we're all strangers, right?"

"Yeah," he replies slowly, his brow furrowing as he sets up my entry but misses my final point.

"So they don't know each other," I go on, "They can't know each other. You can't really get to know someone in three days, two and a half really. You can't get 'history' together like you seem to think they have. Not enough to shut you out entirely at least."

Eddie looks me dead in the eye, anger flashing behind his. He stares at me like he knows I'm not dumb enough to say that and then tilts his head, turning slowly around to look deliberately at them before turning back to look at me.

"They can have enough," he says slowly, carefully, "And you know it too."

I can't say that I can deny that. He's put the pieces together to know most of the story, if not all of it. And I know him well enough that he's already three steps ahead, already giving up on what little progress he's made.

"Eddie," I say, resigned to give him a little ground.

When he grumbles out, "Save your pity."

And I lose my cool.

"Pity?" I roll my eyes at his melodrama, "You think this is about pity? I don't pity you, Eddie. I hate to break it to you but I don't view you as some kind of holier than thou figure who is so hard done by. You've had things hard, I'll give you that. Your parents are pricks who never loved you and you were bullied in high school. Big fucking deal. Join the goddamn club."

Quickly I glance around so that I can be sure no one is overhearing us and, just for good measure, I step a little bit closer and lower my voice.

"Everyone here has a story. Everyone here has something they hate about their history. Every single person in this group and at this damn school and in the whole fucking world is carrying their own baggage and yours is no heavier than anyone elses. The only difference is that yours belongs to you, that's it. I mean fuck, it's not even unique. But you know what is unique?

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