Dear no one, Today, I saw her. I see her every day, but today felt different. It wasn’t just seeing *her*; it was seeing her in a way I hadn’t before, and realizing I didn’t automatically despise her. And that realization… that’s what I hate. - Kyle Everestt -
“Dude, seriously? You’re telling me you wouldn’t even *consider* Kingston?” Tyler, my relentlessly irritating friend, asked for the third time today. He’s been harping on this since sixth grade, ever since I confessed my undying hatred for her.
We sat at our usual table, and my gaze flicked towards Olivia Kingston a few tables away. A surge of emotion slammed into my chest—I’ve always associated feelings with colors, and this was a violent, ugly red. Hate. Anger. Betrayal. If I bothered to dissect it, the list would go on and on.
I genuinely *do* hate her.
I hate her curly dark brown hair, her big brown eyes, those full pink lips, and her naturally glowing skin. The perfectly placed freckles scattered across her face like an artist’s brushstrokes.
Just… everything about her. She clearly doesn’t care about appearances, yet manages to look better than anyone in this school. If she were a stranger, if I didn’t know what I knew… I’d probably fall for her. But that’s not the case. It’s the exact opposite.
“Nope. I hate her, Tyler. Always have, always will. That’s never going to change.” The disgust in my voice was uncontrollable even to me, and Tyler and a few others recoiled in their chairs.
“Woah, bro, relax. I know you don’t like her, but look at her,” Tyler said, nudging me. I did as he suggested, and the hatred only intensified.
“You can’t look at Olivia Kingston and honestly say you wouldn’t hit it if you had the chance,” Ryan, our football quarterback and one of my closest friends, declared. The rest of the guys at the table hooted and hollered in agreement—except me, and the cheerleaders.
“Whatever. Look at what she’s wearing. Does she actually think she’ll be the next SCL looking like that? Who would vote for her? The teachers?” Becky asked, more to herself than anyone else. Her friends erupted in giggles.
Normally, I’d join in with a sarcastic comment about how she’s a waste of space and not worth discussing. But my body froze at the mention of SCL—School Committee Leader.
“Wait, what? I thought I was the only one still in the running?” I blurted out. SCL is a huge deal at Crestwood. It gives you real power to shape the school, and it’s a massive boost for college applications. I thought I’d neutralized all other contenders. Becky grinned, clearly enjoying my distress, and nodded. “She was nominated by the principal. She didn’t volunteer, but that automatically puts her in the running—unless you can find a way to make her withdraw.” There was a dangerous glint in her eyes, and my heart hammered against my ribs. I managed a menacing smirk.
“Well, I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to use that explosive glue bomb.”