"Yeah, well. Apparently up here," he taps the side of his forehead, "if pushing Dave into a locker was a sex thing, then so was—that. Which explains why I got all weird about it."

"That's not what I meant," Bella repeats.

"This creep," she points at the faceless image, "attacked you on his own, right? Dave, you pushed and you knew what was going to happen or you wouldn't have bothered pushing him."

"And that's the difference? Whether or not I started it?"

"Yeah. Pretty much." She pauses. "Also, since I seem to be getting misinterpreted today - I'm not defending Dave, let alone this asshole. Dave took a push and turned it into a beatdown. That's not okay either - it's worse, it's unapologetic violent escalation, not just needling somebody in a vaguely sketchy manner, and there is a definite hierarchy between those things and the first one is worse. I'm just not friends with Dave and since he doesn't care what I think there wouldn't be a point in talking to him about it."

"...Thanks," he says, grinning wryly. "I guess."

Bella looks at the drawings again, and closes the notebook. "I'll type up this notebook's stuff worth saving today and start a new one tomorrow," she says. "Charlie doesn't pry. It's pretty secure to leave it at home without actually shredding the pages or setting them on fire. You're a decent artist."

"See you tomorrow," Bella says. "I'll bring you your own notebook."

"Yep. Thanks," he says, and hops out of the car to go meet Theo.