Bitter

one - lydia

I was eight years old when Cal Warrick tried to drown me in my swimming pool. Of all days, it had to be on my birthday too.

Mom had invited some of my close friends over for my mermaid-themed party and since she was friends with Cal's mom, I guess she thought I'd be okay with having him at the party too (I definitely wasn't). Our moms were great friends, yes, but that didn't mean Cal and I had to be. In fact, we were the exact opposite of what they were.

My friends and I were in the pool, specifically the deep end, and Mom had told me to include Cal in the games we were playing. I was reluctant to let him, but I eventually did and soon we were all awkwardly swimming around the pool, Cal shouting "Marco" with his eyes closed and us shouting "Polo" while trying to escape his hands swatting the air. I wasn't sure if he was cheating or not, but he was somehow only going after me and as I struggled to paddle away, he grabbed me by legs and yanked me downward. Bubbles had spilled from my nose and mouth and I soon found myself splashing around under the water, unable to go up for air as there were hands pushing my head down, forcing me farther and farther to the bottom of the pool.

For as long as I could remember, Cal hated me. I didn't really know when our little rivalry started. Whether it was when I slapped him hard on the playground after he made fun of my new backpack, or when he started a rumor that I'd peed my pants in third grade, I didn't know.

Of course there was one time during summer where I was running a lemonade stand with the help of my mom. She had gone inside so I was left to manage the stand and pour the lemonade and collect the money. Some really nice people had come along, bought some drinks, drank them, and left, but I couldn't end the day without having Cal show up with a group of boys to taunt me.

They were all on bikes and when they saw me all alone, they were locked on their target. Cal was in front as they all crept up to my stand, devious, little child smiles on their faces. "What're you selling?" he asked me even though there was a giant sign beside me that read Lemonade! in big, bright green letters.

I knew he didn't actually want lemonade. Cal never wanted anything to do with me unless it was to hurt me either emotionally or physically. I never knew which one he was going for some days.

"It's a lemonade stand, Cal," I had answered respectfully, "I'm selling lemonade." He wanted a reaction out of me and I was not going to give it to him.

"Lemonade?" He looked down at the pitcher of the pale, pulpy liquid in front of me. "Looks like spit," he sneered, turning back to the group of boys behind him that were cackling. He faced me again and tilted his head to the side. "Did you put spit in that, Lydia?"

"No," I replied, "my mom and I made it with lemons." Do you know what lemons are? I thought and had desperately wanted to ask.

Cal still wore that devious smile. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, swiped the pitcher from my table and shot a ball of saliva from his mouth into the glass. He looked at me proudly. "Now you put spit in it," he announced.

As if that wasn't enough, Cal slammed the pitcher back down on my table, laughing with his idiot, spineless friends. Just before they mounted their bikes and pedaled off, Cal had told me I needed to cool down since it was a hot day out, and with one, mighty kick of his foot to the wood, my entire lemonade stand toppled over on me.

I could hear them speed away, howling with laughter as I was laying on the grass, covered in spit-infested lemonade. Luckily, the pitcher hadn't broken, but when Mom found me, she had. She was furious while at the same time her eyes were glittering with salty tears as she picked my nine-year-old self up off the ground. It was funny, she was more mad about everything than I was. Maybe it was because I was already plotting my next move on Cal.

My mom made sure to tell Cal's parents about the lemonade incident which was then added to a laundry list of Cal-related events. Little did she know that that list was about to get much much longer.