Hate to Love You (Lil Peej)

The Backstory

Hey guys, I'm Kendall. This is the backstory of my friendship with Baylen Levine, Dizzy Dyl, Kyle Johnson, and of my hate for Peej Whitaker, known to you as Lil Peej. Get some water, snuggle up, and enjoy my dramatic story time. 

When I was a girl, I lived in Atlanta, Georgia. For some reason, I was really popular, and the queen bee of my class. I was apparently pretty and I got good grades, all well being all conference in multiple sports. I had cool, older friends, and knew everybody's secrets. Everybody knew my name. Now at this time I didn't even know Baylen's name, or Peej's for that matter. 

One day, as I was doing my homework at the kitchen counter, I heard the doorbell ring like, five times, so I got up, annoyed that my focus had been broken, and went to see who was at the door. Nobody was there when I opened it. I looked around a couple times and checked the mailbox for a package, but to no avail. 

The next day the same thing happened. The doorbell rang multiple times obnoxiously. Every time I couldn't catch who did it, and every time I grew more and more frustrated. By the end of the week, I was so tired of that shit, so I waited on the side of the house for the daily ding dong ditch. Clearly this was not a smart person, as the house owners would obviously catch on to the prank after a while. 

I was brought out of my thoughts as I heard some light footsteps run up my porch stairs. "Gotcha  bitch," I thought as I immediately started sprinting after the culprit. Being the athletic girl that I was, I quickly caught up with the kid and tackled him to the ground. 

"What the hell is wrong with you kid," I huffed as I shook the kids shoulders. 

"Hi, I'm Baylen. I like your looks, and I'm noble," the unfazed idiot said with his hand stuck out for me to shake. I don't know what it was but I knew immediately that this kid and I were gonna be friends. 

"Uh, hi? How old are you?" I asked him, unconvinced. 

"I'm Baylen." 

"Yes, Baylen how old are you?"

"What happened?"

"How old are you?"

"Wait, huh?"

"Alright I'm out."

"No, no! I was just kidding! I'm 12 years old. How old are you?"

"I'm Kendall," I answered smuggly. Baylen smirked. 

"I know. What's your name then?"

"Also 12."

"Cool," he said as we dusted ourselves off. 

After some conversation, Baylen and I went home. The next day he knocked again, but when I answered, he wasn't on the run. Baylen was small in stature, not weighing much and not too tall. He had dark brown hair, pale skin, and a mischievous look to him. He wasn't like any of my other friends. This time, he walked right in the door and helped himself to my apples and peanut butter. We continued to hang out like this for about half the week. 

One day during class, I pretended to stretch to see the clock when I caught a glimpse of Baylen and another kid sitting next to each other in the back. They were making annoying noises and throwing random objects at the girls a few rows in front of them. We made eye contact, and I waved at him. His friend next to him saw this and grabbed his wrist, wide eyed. Baylen wiggled his eyebrows, making me giggle. 

"Kendall. I expect better from you," Mrs. Briggs disciplined. I just kept doing my work. The next period was lunch. I got hot lunch, so I was in the lunch room pretty early. As I grabbed my chicken tenders, I walked up to my friends's table; the popular table.