His Deepest Secret

Charlotte did not even have time to read the bottle before Anderson ripped the bottle out of her hands.

"Why are you going through my personal things?!" Anderson demanded, as he stood in front of Charlotte, fuming.

"I-I accidentally ran into your counter and-"

"No. That's bullshit. You just now were holding it up to your face to read what medicine it was."

Charlotte could feel the anger vibrating off of him. She was at a loss for words when they were most needed. "I'm sorry," was all she could say. It sounded quiet and cracked as she had said it.

Anderson stared down into her face, trembling. He did not know what to say to her, he was so angry. His privacy had been violated to the utmost.

Charlotte looked up at Anderson, who seemed pale, besides the redness in his cheeks from the anger he had inside of him.

"Get your shoes on. I'm taking you home." Anderson walked out of the bathroom, leaving Charlotte feeling horrible for letting her curiosity get the best of her. She walked into the bedroom and put her shoes on. Anderson was already outside in the truck waiting. She backtracked the way to the front door from what she remembered and got into his truck quietly.

The car ride was silent. The anger and guilt was thick and tangible. The two did not speak. The heat was never turned on. Anderson did not even have a jacket on. Goosebumps trailed his arms, but his anger did not allow him to notice. Charlotte hugged her jacket tightly to her, trying to stay warm.

Anderson pulled up in front of her house.

"Get out."

"I'd thought I'd stay and chat for a while," Charlotte snapped, sarcasm making her voice harsh. She got out and slammed the truck door. As she walked away, she heard him call her a bitch. He drove off quickly, the tires on his truck squealing.

Charlotte walked into her house and to her bedroom. She let her body collapse onto her bed and snuggled underneath her covers. She usually woke up at seven. So she planned to sleep for an hour and a half, letting her guilt disappear temporarily as her dreams appeared.

---

"He said what?!" Alissa asked, her face full of shock.

"Yeah, exactly. I'm stuck with him for another three weeks dude." Charlotte pushed her bottom lip out a little, creating a pout without realizing she was.

"If he was not such a douche, he would be considered hot," Alissa winked. "But he is THE douche of Doucheland."

"Nice one," Charlotte said with sarcasm.

"I'm great with insults, aren't I?"

"Aren't isn't a word."

"Shut up!" Alissa laughed, punching the side of her arm as they entered English together. "Doouuuuuche," Alissa whispered a little too loud.

Anderson looked up from where he was sitting, looking directly at Charlotte. Immediately, she felt awkward. Alissa danced through the aisle; Charlotte merely shuffled to her desk. She could feel eyes on her, but she didn't want to look up to meet those eyes. The bell rang and a few tardy people walked into the classroom.

"Turn in your explanations. Staple it to your partner's paper." Mrs. Heinagan began writing her lesson about rhetoric devices on the board.

Charlotte stood up and walked back a few desks. She held her hand out, gesturing for Anderson to hand her his paper. Instead, Anderson took the paper out of her hands rudely, got up, and walked over to the stapler and basket. It was evident he was still pissed at her. Just great...

"Write this down: you and your partner's contemporary version of your scene will be due two weeks from Monday," Mrs. Heinagan told the class.

Everyone made a small note somewhere in their binders or planners and continued waiting for her to start her lesson.

"Today we will be speaking about rhetoric. Logos, pathos, ethos. Does anyone know what I'm talking about at all?" The class was silent, which meant no. "None of you?! Wow, alright. Well..." she continued on, teaching the class about rhetoric.

Charlotte felt something light hit her back. She turned around and saw a note on the ground and Anderson looking up at the board like he was truly focused. Hesitantly, she picked it up and opened it.

Did you read what my pill bottle said? >:(

Charlotte picked up her pencil and scribbled a small "No, why?" underneath his question. She looked behind her, threw it, and turned around.

Thirty seconds later, the note landed onto her desk this time.

None of your business. You shouldn't have even touched that bottle.

Charlotte began to get really irritated. She was getting tired of hearing the same exact thing.

I already said I'm sorry. So either accept my apology or shove it up your ass. What else do you want from me?"

Charlotte threw it back to him. It landed onto the floor, but oh well. He deserved it.

For the rest of the class, no more notes were thrown up to her. There were a few more minutes of class left and everyone was talking. Charlotte packed her things into her backpack, getting ready to go once the bell rang

As soon as the bell rang, a note flew onto her desk. Everyone began shuffling out of the door. Charlotte's curiosity rose and she opened the note as she began walking to her next class, AP Calculus.

I don't want anything to do with you.

I hate you.

The words were harshly written. Charlotte did not like him. She strongly disliked him. And yet, his words hurt. She couldn't understand why. She slowly folded it back up and quietly put it into her pocket. She walked past the lockers and turned right. While walking down to the classroom two doors down, she looked up and accidentally locked eyes with Anderson.

Why was he so hateful towards her? She couldn't understand him. She couldn't even understand herself.

She walked fast down to her classroom, thankful this was the last class of the day.

"Loser," Anderson said. His jock buddies laughed loudly at his remark. Charlotte felt another sting and turned around.

"Dickhead," she spit.

"OHHHHHH!" His jock buddies thought they were so cool. They laughed and chattered amongst each other.

Charlotte's eyes were blazing. Anderson's eyes were amused with a tinge of hate. Their eyes were fixed on each other's. Charlotte gave him a meaningful look and walked away. Anderson didn't understand what that look meant.

The bell rang.

These three weeks were going to be hell.