No rules.
And it’s brutal to watch.
The room’s starting to notice now. Conversations are dying down, and people are turning to watch. There’s a particular charge in the air that means drama’s about to happen.
“I’m not mean,” McKenzie says, but her voice has an edge to it now. “I told you. I’m honest. There’s a difference.”
“No, you’re mean.” Caleb takes a step toward her, unsteady but determined. “And the thing is, and this is what I’ve been trying to figure out, the thing is, mean is just... it’s boring.”
McKenzie’s face flushes bright red. “Excuseme?”
“Mean is boring,” Caleb repeats, like he’s explaining a simple concept to a child. “It’s what people do when they don’t have anything else interesting about them. Like, you’re pretty and rich and popular, but what else is there? What do you actually care about? What makes you...you?”
“Caleb—” I try to grab his arm, but he’s on a roll now.
“Because from where I’m standing, you’re just... empty. You’re mean because being mean makes people pay attention to you, and if you weren’t mean, we’d all forget you existed.” He’s not yelling. His voice is almost conversational, which somehow makes it worse. “That’s kind of sad, actually.”
McKenzie’s eyes are shining now. Rage or tears, hard to tell. “How dare you?—”
“I’m not trying to be mean back,” Caleb continues,like she hasn’t spoken. “I’m just saying... what do you actually like? What makes you happy? Because I’ve known you our whole lives, and I have no idea. You’re just this...void. This mean void.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” McKenzie hisses.
“Exactly.” Caleb nods, like she’s just proved his point. “Nobody does. Because there’s nothing to know. You’ve made yourself so small and empty that being cruel is the only thing left.”
People are definitely watching now. Someone’s phone is out—great, this’ll be on social media in five minutes.
“You’re drunk,” McKenzie spits.
“Yeah,” Caleb agrees easily. “But I’m not wrong. You could be, I don’t know, anything. Anyone. But you chose to be this. You chose to make Marie’s life hell for no reason except that it gave you something to do. That’s not powerful. It’s just pathetic.”
McKenzie’s face has gone from red to white. Her hands are shaking. “You think you’re so perfect, Caleb Graham. You think you’re better than everyone?—”
“I don’t think I’m perfect,” Caleb interrupts, and there’s something raw in his voice now. “I’m really,reallynot perfect. But at least I’m trying to be a decent person. At least I care about something other than making other people feel small.”
“You—” McKenzie’s voice cracks as she lifts a shaking finger in Caleb’s face. She’s quite literally shaking with rage. “You’re going to regret this. You have no idea what I can do to you?—”
“What?” Caleb laughs, and it’s bitter. “Make my life difficult? Spread rumors? Turn people against me?” He spreads his arms wide. “Do your worst. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than you.”
And something about the way he says it—so tired, so done—seems to hit McKenzie harder than anything else he’s said.
Her face crumples. For a second, she just stands there, exposed and raw, and I almost feel bad for her.
Almost.
Then she makes a sound that’s half sob, half scream, and runs for the stairs.
The crowd parts for her like water.
Caleb stands there, swaying slightly, looking at the space where she’d been. Then he turns and walks toward the front door, stumbling over someone’s foot, not looking back.
The room erupts in whispers.
I look at Marie, who’s standing there with her hands pressed to her mouth, eyes wide.
“Go,” she says, voice muffled. “I’m fine. Go get him.”
I go.