I hated her.  She was my arch nemesis.  I personally didn’t know her, but I did know that she was evil!

It was one day in Pre-K that I declared her evil.  Back then, I wasn’t the cutest kid in the patch.  I had glasses two sizes too big on my face, bushy brows, and way-too-long eyelashes.  I had buck teeth, my ears were too big for my head, and my nose was always running, so I had snot rolling down my lips and my chin.  My hair was always all over the place, and to top it all off, my head was too big for my little four-year-old body… but that didn’t matter.  I still thought I was the ladies man (even though all the girls ran away from me at recess and called me “Snotty” instead of Scotty).

Anyway, one day at snack time I was staring at her.  Her red hair was up in the cutest little pigtails I had ever seen, with pink bows wrapped around them.  Her bright blue eyes lined with long lashes blinked with excitement every time she shoved a goldfish in her mouth.  Her nose was flecked with red freckles and it twitched every few seconds like a rabbit’s nose.  That day she was wearing a striped pink white shirt with overalls covering it.

“Oh, Angela,” I sighed contentedly.

I must have said it too loud because her bright blue eyes instantly became dull and she crushed the goldfish in her hand.  She turned and sneered at me when she caught me staring at her.

“What do you want, Snotty?” she hissed at me.

“Nuth-nuth-nothing.  I was just, just… I was thinking… well, I was just thinking about how…beau…beautiful you, you are,” I stuttered nervously.

Somehow I was able to draw up enough courage to ask her if she would be my girl.  Big mistake.

“Why would I go out with a little snot like you?” she asked me harshly.

By then, we had caught all the other little kids’ attentions and they were now facing me, snickering and laughing at the nickname they had all given me.

“Snotty Scotty, Snotty Scotty!  Snotty Scotty,” they chanted.

“Stop it!  Stop it!” I wailed.  Big fat crocodile tears started to form in my eyes.

I glanced at Angela once more.  She no longer looked like an angel, but now she looked like the devil, sneering at me.

“I hate you,” I spat at her.

Surprised that I would openly defy her after she embarrassed me in front of the whole class, she looked taken aback.  Then she gave this rage-filled shriek and pushed me to the ground.

“Why would you do that?” I sobbed.

“Because I can,” she smirked at me.

Then she turned and began laughing along with the twenty-four other little kids in the classroom.

From that day on, I vowed to get her back.

Then one day I did…

I was seventeen now and had only one dream: to get revenge on Angela.  I was in the eleventh grade now, not really too worried about my future.  I had ditched my glasses back in sixth grade and now wore contacts in my small brown eyes.  I still had long lashes, which I hated.  My teeth had straightened with the help of braces and my ears finally evened out.  Being able to tame my brown hair was easy now.  My body filled out thanks to being on he power team, and my nose stopped running, forcing everyong to stop calling me “Snotty.”  Now I was just… Scotty.  I had became pretty popular, but not as popular as… Angela. Ugh!  I couldn’t even think her name without picturing the devil.

We had every class together, and I would sit behind her plotting scheme after scheme to get her off her throne.  Every once in a while I had to smack myself in the face to stop her toxic beauty spell from enrapturing me.

Throughout the years of gaining my self-confidence back after what Angela had done to me, she had only become more beautiful.  She had ditched the pigtails (to my utter disappointment), and now wore her wavy, red, long hair down.  (Sometimes I had the urge to reach out and run my fingers through it.)  She had a flawless complexion, one that made all the girls want to scream with envy, and she also had pink, plump, full lips (that I secretly wanted to kiss), and a fit, toned body from being on the track team.  I knew almost everything about her.  Her favorite color was a baby soft pink, she loved to read and write.  I knew how many boyfriends she’d had, (including her current jerk of one now, Chad).  Her best friend was named Shay and her dog (which, surprisingly, was a Great Dane), was named Rick.

She had become an obsession to me, but I rationalized the reason why I needed to know all that stuff was because in order to defeat my enemy, I needed to know my enemy.  But deep down, I knew that wasn’t the reason.

For some reason, everyone loved her (even the teacher!).  Even though she didn’t know me or even remember the incident in Pre-K, she still stopped in the hall to say “Hi” to me.  Sometimes she even went as far as to ask me how my day was.  I would play along with her little sweet and kind act, but I knew she had the devil living inside of her.  A part of me knew that this probably wasn’t true and that she was a genuinely kind girl now.  But the part that was still holding onto that hurt, innocent young boy wouldn’t let me let this revenge thing go.

So when she left the book she was always carrying around with her behind in class, I just had to pick it up and find out what was so special about it.  When I opened it up I was surprised to find that it wasn’t a book; it was a diary.  My revenge plan had literally fallen into my hands.  I went home that day and started to lay out my plan of how I would share her most private thoughts to the entire school.

The next day…

The bell ran, signaling time for lunch.  Students poured out into the halls, relieved it was finally time to eat.

They were unaware of how I was about to rock their world with the secrets of the real Angela Baker, the one they never got to see.

Angela walked past me holding her boyfriend’s hand.  She turned and smiled back at me and winked.  I blushed and quickly glanced down at her skirt (which was always too short), swishing back and forth.

Short skirts.  Every.  Single.  Day.  And despite the fact that she lived in California, she always wore long sleeves.  No matter what.  Weird.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I looked up to find I was in the lunchroom.  Too nervous to eat, I just paced and waited for everyone else to get their food.  Once everyone was settled, I stood on one of the tables (much to everyone’s dismay), and began to read.

“Oh crap.  The first day of sixth grade and I already peed my pants.  I got to get my bladder under control!”

Much to my pleasure, people started to snicker – everyone but Angela, as she was starting to remember her own penmanship.

“Let’s go to page six, shall we?  Honestly, I think this is my favorite out of all the entries.  Don’t you think… Angela?” I said smirking as I continued to read.

“This is probably the worst day ever!”  I was walking the halls when I had gotten the worst wedgie ever!  I just had to pick it.  I looked around to make sure no one was around, and not seeing anyone, I reached down and dug around to make sure that sucker wouldn’t come back.  I sighed in relief once it was gone, only to turn around in horror to find Andy King clearing his throat awkwardly.  My gosh, now he will never ask me out!  I sheepishly looked up at him and hurriedly slid past him.”

As I kept reading, I was conscious of the fact that everyone was dying of laughter.

When I tired of reading, I closed the book and turned to Angela.  She was sitting by herself now with big fat tears running down her face.  All the other populars had moved away from her, giggling all the while.

I got off the table, walked to her table and threw her diary down in front of her.

She looked up at me with tears leaving her big blue eyes.  I almost felt bad for her.  Almost.

“Why?” was all she asked me.

I answered with the first thing that popped into my mind.  “Because I can,” I replied.

Instant recognition flashed into her eyes of that painful day in Pre-K before her eyes became dull and lifeless.

She got up and slowly walked to the trash can with her diary.  She threw it in and ran out of the lunch room.

The lunch room was bursting with laughter and excitement at what they had found out about Angela.

A couple of students had even gone as far as to actually dig in the trash for it.  Now they were fighting over it, eager to read more entries.

I got suspended for five days.  My mother cried every time she saw me and told me how awful I was to that poor girl, and my father wouldn’t even look at me.

I was grounded for the remainder of my suspension (meaning I wasn’t allowed out of my room except to go to the bathroom and my mother would bring me my meals… while sobbing.)

She told me that I should be thinking about what I had done.  Strangely enough, I was.  Why had I held a grudge over Angela’s head for so long?

Pushing the thought out of my mind, I got online knowing my parents wouldn’t care what I did in my room as long as they didn’t see my face.

I got on Google and something compelled me to type in “Angela Cristy Baker.” Instantly, pictures of the pages in her diary popped up.

I guess someone had gotten their hands on it after all.  (Principal Tate had confiscated it and returned it to Angela’s mother.)

Curious, I clicked on one.  Surprisingly, the page was about me.  I guess I didn’t read this one.

12/29/2013 Dear Diary,

Scotty.  He was the one boy that I could not get out of my head.  I think about him more than my boyfriend and that is saying something since Chad is the hottest boy in school, but not the brightest crayon in the box, if you know what I mean.  Scotty is hot and smart without even trying.  He sits behind me in all my classes (which is horrible because I spend the whole class period trying to concentrate).  Even if I did ever ask him out, I know he would reject me.  He is still holding a grudge against me for what I did to him in Pre-K.  I don’t blame him; I was a brat back then.  But I didn’t know how deeply it cut him.  I wish he still liked me, but I know he never will again.  I will hate myself forever and I will never forget what I said to him.

Because I can.

Angela Baker

I cried.  Like a baby.

I was so caught up in my revenge plan that I completely disregarded Angela’s feelings.  I should have given her another chance or at least forgiven her.  I’d completely blown it with her… again.

I knew she probably hated me now, but I had to at least try and apologize to her.

So when my suspension was over, I went to school with every intention of apologizing to her.  As I searched that halls for her, I heard people whooping my name.  People clapped me on the back, and someone even called out, “You the man, Scotty!”

I was disgusted, not only at them, but at myself too, because I was the one who created this situation.  But I was determined to fix that.

I pushed through the crowd only to find Chad and his new girlfriend, Shay.  My mouth gaped open while I stared at her with Chad’s arm around her.

Shay looked away in shame at what she had done.  So much for a so-called best friend.

“Scott, my man!  Thanks for showing me what a disgusting pig of an ex-girlfriend I had.” He held his hand up for a high five.

Angry that he had just dumped her instead of being there for her, I decided I would do something about it.

“Hey, do you like knuckle sandwiches?” I asked him.

“Well…” he looked puzzled like he didn’t know what I was asking.  “Yeah!  I love sandwiches!” he exclaimed.

“Well, I have one right here for you,” I said smiling, right before I punched him in the nose.

Blood gushed everywhere, and he dropped to his knees and screamed.  Shay dropped down beside him to help, but he just roughly pushed her away.

“And my name is Scotty,” I said.

The hall was quiet as people parted to let me pass, shocked at my anger.

I ran through the halls knowing it was only a matter of time before the principal found me.  Frantically searching for her, I didn’t notice the girl walking with her head down until it was too late.

I ran right into her, knocking the girl down to the ground.

“Oh my gosh!  I am so sorry,” I told her as I got on the floor beside her to pick up the contents that had spilled out of the girls’ purse.

I saw something metallic winking at me.  I picked up the object having a funny feeling.  It was a three-inch knife.

I slowly lifted my head and was shocked to find Angela crying and shoving things back into her purse.

I had a foreboding feeling that made me reach out and grab her arm.  I pulled up her long sleeves only to find long, jagged scars running up the length of her arm.  Some were fresh, bleeding through her shirt.

“Oh, Angela,” I sighed, astonished that she would do this to herself.

She grabbed the knife out of my hand, picked up her purse, and rushed to the girls’ bathroom.  I heard this blood-curdling scream and instantly knew what she was doing.

I ran into the girls’ bathroom, not caring what the sign said on the door.  I found her on the floor of the bathroom cutting more shallow cuts into her skin.  I rushed to her and knocked the knife out of her hand.

“Stop this!” I grabbed her head in my hands, forcing her to look at me.  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, tears now streaming down my face.

She smiled sadly at me.  “This isn’t your fault.  I’ve been cutting since I was twelve.  When my-”

“When your mom died,” I finished for her.

She had to go live with her dad after that.

“Yeah.  My life pretty much went downhill after that.”

The light in her eyes was still dull as she stared at me, but when she started to lean in towards me they brightened just a little.

She planted her plump lips onto mine.  The kiss felt like it went on forever when it probably only lasted a second.

When the kiss ended she told me she was sorry as well.  Then she gathered her stuff.

When she picked up the knife she just stared at it for a while.  Then she threw it in the trash.  She wrapped her arm in paper towels and pulled down her sleeves.  With that, she turned to the door.

“Why?  The kiss, I mean…why?” I asked.

She paused before answering.  “…because I can,” she responded as a single tear rolled down cheek.

She walked out the bathroom without another word, leaving me on the bathroom floor.

The End

Moral: Whatever you think you may know about a person is never really true.