P.S. I Hate You

My story begins...probably back in kindergarten. That's when I met the biggest JERK on the face of the planet! I mean really, most people think all kids at that age get along lovely, right? Yeah?

WRONG. Worse, no one really believes me. Oh, he's such a great guy... Did you see that? How sweet.... He's SO good looking!

And such larding crap.

Kindergarten... I was a happy, innocent kid.... well, mostly. The mud was fun back then I couldn't help it, kay? Not my fault my mom freaks the moment she sees a speck of dust. Honestly! She still vacuums twice a day. Dusts after every meal.

I’m getting distracted. They'd fenced the mud off, so after I kidnapped the crayons and drew on the outer wall, then ate them [it was weird, though- they didn't taste like candy], I went to the monkey bars.

Had I bothered him before? No. Had I met him before? No. But he on his own decided to hate me.

Going across I accidentally felt my foot collide with something but staying up, I looked below me. "Hey!" The little boy cried. "You kicked me!"

"No I didn't! You got in my way!" I whined. "Move!"

"No!" He yanked on my foot, dragging me down. I scraped my knee and screamed.

"Ow! That hurt!"

Being the.... well, bully I was, I punched him in the stomach. I'd seen it in cartoons but was confused when he didn't fly back. He bent over, groaning. Then he stomped on my foot and grabbed my hair. I screeched- my hair was the bomb back then, and usually still is. It's such an electric natural shade of red, everyone just stares upon seeing it at first.

I could hear the little kids crying to the teacher for help. I had just started clawing at the boy's face when our teacher came over and broke us up.

We missed snack and had to sit in the corner.

We fought at every playtime until the teachers took action to keeping us on other sides of the playground, far from each other.

First grade, my mom put me in a private school, just for girls. Half way through second grade, however, after several attempts of escaping and flooding the bathrooms and putting glue everywhere [drinking fountains, cups, walls, chairs, hair....the list goes on], my mom got tired and shoved me back in public school.

First day there, I knew it was the same kid I'd been beating up just years ago. At lunch, he came over, pulled my hair and shoved my cookie in his mouth. I punched him in the stomach, making him spit it out. I'd just gotten on top, shoving his face in the crumbs on the floor when the vice principal caught us.

I personally hadn't known you could get detention in just second grade. But yeah, it's pretty darn possible. They called our homes, gave us detention, and figured it was all good.
Not that it was...

But there you have it. We kept up fights like that until fourth grade, where they made us find some friends and busied us with sports, distracting ourselves from each other as much as possible. But still, in the hallways, we're there to shoot nasty words and insults.

So it's almost weird. You know how people believe gossip and rumors? The ones about him and me are completely ignored, cause duh, we hate each other- everyone knows that. Everyone had to choose sides, too. Activities weren't enough to keep us apart.

It didn't help, I suppose, when I saw the moving truck.