10 Things I hate About Her (10 Things #1)

7. To Kill a Val

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Naomi was a lot heavier than when we were kids. My back was sore. I stretched but it did little. Maybe I should lift heavier weights at the gym. I shook my head. Too much work. 

Lately, I didn't feel the need to do much. There was a sense of disappointment I couldn't shake- in what or who, I couldn't be certain. I had lost all my mirth as Hamlet might have said and decided to skip first period. Instead of sitting through another meaningless lecture, I hid under the stairwell. The body of the stairs climbed towards the ceiling but there was a vacant space between the two in which I had wedged myself. This part of school was often patrolled, but if noticed I would come up with something, I usually did.

I pressed the pen to the paper.

At summer's end,

We met again,

Bitter enemies instead of friends,

Oaths sworn against the other,

We brandish spears,

Spiked helmets on our heads,

In our chests, a vengeful fire burns.

How quickly love turns to hate.

When we first fell, I cannot pinpointeth,

But I feel anger churning my insides,

Turning my organs into mush.

I want to be free from this self-made prison,

I want our love to grow once again.

I say, 'Lay your sword and I'll lay mine."

You say, "It's far too late to ever reconcile."

In earnest, I plead, "Why must we fight when

Better men would know to lower their weapons

And embrace? It's better to walk among the living

Than sleep with the dead."

And you reply, "It is your life that will be taken by this dagger,

Not mine. You speak of cowardice, you fear me,

I don't fear you."

You lunge.

Your attack is fierce,

A barrage of powerful blows.

I block all except one that slips under a rib and pierces my heart.

Watching the blood flood my shirt-

The vivid imagery lost itself to the clicking of a woman's heels against the tile, well I suppose it could have been a man as men also wear heels these days, but not in this school. A shadow stretched across the tile between wall and stairs, approaching the sanctity of my shallow cave. I put my notebook into my bag, pulled it close to my chest.

A pigeon-like face peeked down at me. "Valerie Walsh, I should have known."

I grinned sheepishly, knowing I had been caught. "Just Val will do, Ms. Brandi."

She wore a tight-fitting blazer and pencil skirt over a lovely frame. Her olive skin as radiant as when she was young. Her hips sashayed as she moved. A beauty for sure. A rare find in any high school. Her brown hair was pulled into a high bun. Her lips down-turned as if she wanted to be stern, but they twitched as if she were going to laugh.