That Silly Thing About Hatred

How I hate this girl.

I found myself staring at the inside of my locker, my hand suspended on mid-air in the process of retrieving my book and notes on Trig. My muscles froze into place at the unwelcome sight inside; and my bag, which hung gapingly open on my right shoulder, slid three inches down, all but forgotten in my attempt to fight the all-too-familiar dread and annoyance in my gut. I tried breathing even breaths. One... two... three... a process I developed to calm my nerves whenever I'm face to face with "her" , or in this case, with one of her abominable handiworks.

My name is Christian, and I hate Charlie, I whispered menacingly. Congratulations to me, it's now official. For the 37th time.

It is unfortunate enough that "she", Charlie (she dislikes the sound of Charlotte, tried taunting her with her full name once never gonna do it again) is my classmate, an undeniable and irrefutable fact for almost two years now; and as if that isn't enough punishment yet she also sits next to me. Thank you very much.

She, for lack of better terms, is impossible. She's this mayhem girl who perfects trig surprise tests. If it not for her love of all things weird and disruptive in class, she would be the Golden girl of all professors. She is constantly praised and reprimanded by teachers, always two things at the same time; funny but serious, weird yet entertaining, and then right now, highly irritable yet slightly... very slightly hilarious.

Due to Charlie's weirdness and chaotic nature, people around her tend to be the victims of her boredom. She has this strange habits existent only when she used up her I'm-trying-hard-not-to-be-bored meter. She doodles absurd caricatures of our classmates, and passes them around. She likes to mess with people by stacking notes on their lockers or under their desks just to see their reaction.

When I say I hate her, I really do hate her. I hate her guts, and her disrespect for the peace and freaking privacy of others. Then again, she is fun to be around, not a single, boring moment. The only reason why hate overshadowed like is mostly because I was her favorite victim. And if I was the butt of her pranks, then nothing - and I mean nothing - in this world can help me.

I peeled my eyes away from the insulting object (which is a piece of folded paper) and proceeded to stuff my open bag with the necessary materials for my next lesson. Maybe, I hoped, I could ignore the thing long enough to make the rest of my day considerably stress free. On the other and I could just open the damn thing and be done with it.

Okay, I'm opening it.

I grabbed the thick, gray paper, flipped it open and scanned the whole page, not taking in any words. It was pretty long, I started to read.

"Be nice to me. Because we're in the same school. Because we have the same course. Because we're in the same class. Because I sit next to you. Because you still have two years beside me. Because you'll need my help. Because I'm plain genius. Because I know a lot of people, Because you copy my assignments from our classmates. Because of this letter. Because a little thing can make a big difference. Because I count as your acquaintance. Because you'll undoubtedly turn to me for help someday. Because it would be funny to see you try. Because it's considered rude not to. Because I'll make your life hell if you don't. Because I know a lot of great movies. Because my academic standing is better than yours. Because you want to see the sun tomorrow. Because you want to celebrate your 19th birthday-"

The list went on, and I felt helplessly -and so against my will- fascinated by the letter. Charlie was even using death threats and enumerating every single thing that I have got to do with her! Charlie's record just reached an all-time high; my body rocked silently with spasms of laughter.

I leaned against my locker, one arm folded and held against my chest to prevent me from banging my fist on the wall. A passing classmate, Emily, looked at me in alarm. Hahahaha. I continued to read.

"Because I'm fun to be with. Because you don't want to have these letters everyday for the rest of your college life. Because I know a lot of jokes. Because we once shared a soda at the canteen. Because I lent you my Physics textbook. Because we both made a total of six pranks with each other. Because I'll continue to weird you out. Because you're a freaking loner and you don't have anybody else to hang out with. Because I'm fascinating. Because I'm interesting. Because you're fascinated. Because you are interested. And because you are in love with me."

Signed, C.

It abruptly ended there. It stopped me cold.

What.

Did.

I.

Just.

Read?

Everything around me suddenly slowed down. My mind went blank and I vaguely wondered if I was having an out-of-body experience.

It was at that moment when I spotted Charlie.

She was walking by herself, way behind our group of classmates on their way to Trig. My mind was out of focus, and it was now that I noticed that she had an interesting face; that she walked with a lilting grace, that she always drummed her fingers, and that she had quick, pretty eyes that darted over everything.

Eyes that are now looking at me.

Again, there was something in my gut. I decided to ignore it. It's just my hatred churning its way into my stomach again, nothing else right? Her eyes zeroed in on the note I was holding, then snapped back to my face.

I waved the note nonchalantly. My expression both reluctantly amused and slightly apathetic, as if I just read a mundane assignment that was due yesterday. I looked at her and sighed. I exaggerated the movement so that she could see.

Charlie flashed a mischievous grin devoid of any embarrassment. I noticed again how that single act of hers seemed hilarious to me.

"You are unbelievable. Impossible and unbelievable," I shook my head in smug defeat as she walked towards me.

She laughed, "What, Chris? Not used to it yet?"

Charlie made her way towards me. Again, I was breathing even breaths to calm my nerves. One... two... three... Every. Single. Time.

I shrugged in response, a smile now plastered in my face, "You know I hate you right?" I raised the hand holding the ridiculous letter for a high five.

She mirrored my action. Two feet away from me, Charlie smiled her thousand-watt grin and answered, "Sure, Chris..." my hand met hers.

"I hate you, too."

---END---

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