Dabi (grinning like a madman): "Motherfucker, this is nuts! We broke all the tiles of Motherfucker Richard!"
Bram (raising an eyebrow): "Are you just gonna call everyone 'motherfucker' now because you heard Richard say it? You know it's a—"
Me (cutting him off, finger on lips): "Shhhh—"
Dabi spent most of his time indoors—his parents were those kinds of overprotective. The kid had zero social awareness. Hell, even I didn't want to be friends with him when we first met three years ago. (But that's a story for another time.)
Me (patting Dabi's back): "Let's go home. Power's probably back. And Dabi? You sound real cool saying 'motherfucker.'"
Dabi (eyes lighting up): "Really?!"
The smile on his face was so pure, so untainted, I almost felt bad.
Almost.
I nodded, and we split ways—the secret of the tiles safely buried.
One Hour Later
From three houses down, a commotion erupted. Screaming. Shrieking. Like a wild pig caught in a trap.
A shiver ran down my spine.
Me (whispering, smirking): "Dabi… you've unlocked the magic of swearing."
The Next Morning
The three of us attended the same school—just a block away—so we usually walked together. Dabi and I were in the same grade; Bram, three years older. We weren't alone, though. The whole street's kids marched in a pack—mostly girls, but they were way younger.
As the group gathered at the street's end, I spotted Dabi.
Oh.
Swollen face. Finger marks on his cheeks. Bruised arms. A slight limp.
And then—
Dabi (voice cracking with rage): "YOU ACTUAL MOTHERFUCKER!"
Tears streamed down his face as he gasped for breath.
Dabi: "BRAM TRIED TO WARN ME! WHY'D YOU STOP HIM?! I CALLED MY MOM A MOTHERFUCKER! SHE BEAT ME WITH A RUBBER PIPE! SLIPPERS! A BAT, SHERRY! A MOTHERFUCKING BAT!"
I lost it. Giggling like a hyena.
Bram (deadpan): "Shery, that's fucked up."
Me (wiping tears): "Look how natural he curses now! Like he was born saying it. Bram, were you trying to rob him of the joy of learning?"
We kept walking, Bram getting snatched by the disciplinary teacher at the gate—as usual. Our school had a uniform fetish. Nails, hair, socks—anything out of line, and you were dragged to the principal's office. Bram's hair was always slightly too long. Probably thought he looked like Justin Bieber. (Spoiler: He didn't.)
After assembly, Dabi and I headed to class—bench mates, partners in crime.
And today?
Oh, I had plans for Dabi…