Four Years
Sixth Grade
You showed up a week into the school year, having just moved from Virginia, walking down the halls like you owned the place. Our peers quickly accepted you, something that still hadn't happened for me, though I'd lived here my whole life. Immediately I hated you.
You were in my music class, and I hated you. Your devilish grin, and your skater clothes. Those black rimmed glasses that you wore occasionally. The way you could so easily talk to people, and the way you made friends so quickly. I hated the way you'd look at me and then looked away.
After a week of watching you and hating you, I couldn't help but wonder if you hated me too.
You sent glances my way, but I never knew if you were looking at me or the pretty cheerleader behind me. Probably her. You hated me. You hated my long, dark, all one-length hair, my dark clothes that covered me head to toe, and my crooked teeth. I knew you hated me.
We never said a word to each other for months.
In the winter, I got a boyfriend, my first boyfriend in fact. He wasn't anything like you, and that's what I liked about him, because I hated you. He was dark, and a bad boy in general.
That was the first time you talked to me. In our music class, you leaned over and asked me, "Are you dating Bruce?"
"Yes, I am."I told you, giving you a glare when you said 'Oh' and leaned back over. Why should you care? You hated me. I shrugged it off. You only wanted to know so you could make of me later.
Eventually, I broke up with my boyfriend. The week after, he went to juvie for punching a teacher. You and everyone else stared at me as I walked to my classes, everyone thinking the same thing. "How could anyone date someone like that?" It made me hate you more.
But one night, I was in bed, thinking about you. About how much I hated you. But did I really hate you?
If I hated you, why would I try to walk next to you in the hall? Why would I try to find a spot at the lunch table where I could see you? Why did I feel so fluttery when you looked my way, or bumped into me in the hall?
Maybe I liked you.
I liked the way your hair fell in front of your eyes, and the way you laughed when your friends cracked a joke. I liked that you actually never made fun of me. I liked when you looked at me.
By the end of the year, I was completely head over heels for you.
You were in my music class, and I hated you. Your devilish grin, and your skater clothes. Those black rimmed glasses that you wore occasionally. The way you could so easily talk to people, and the way you made friends so quickly. I hated the way you'd look at me and then looked away.
After a week of watching you and hating you, I couldn't help but wonder if you hated me too.
You sent glances my way, but I never knew if you were looking at me or the pretty cheerleader behind me. Probably her. You hated me. You hated my long, dark, all one-length hair, my dark clothes that covered me head to toe, and my crooked teeth. I knew you hated me.
We never said a word to each other for months.
In the winter, I got a boyfriend, my first boyfriend in fact. He wasn't anything like you, and that's what I liked about him, because I hated you. He was dark, and a bad boy in general.
That was the first time you talked to me. In our music class, you leaned over and asked me, "Are you dating Bruce?"
"Yes, I am."I told you, giving you a glare when you said 'Oh' and leaned back over. Why should you care? You hated me. I shrugged it off. You only wanted to know so you could make of me later.
Eventually, I broke up with my boyfriend. The week after, he went to juvie for punching a teacher. You and everyone else stared at me as I walked to my classes, everyone thinking the same thing. "How could anyone date someone like that?" It made me hate you more.
But one night, I was in bed, thinking about you. About how much I hated you. But did I really hate you?
If I hated you, why would I try to walk next to you in the hall? Why would I try to find a spot at the lunch table where I could see you? Why did I feel so fluttery when you looked my way, or bumped into me in the hall?
Maybe I liked you.
I liked the way your hair fell in front of your eyes, and the way you laughed when your friends cracked a joke. I liked that you actually never made fun of me. I liked when you looked at me.
By the end of the year, I was completely head over heels for you.