I was just a dreamer. I never thought a dreamer was such a bad thing until I saw her. I hated her. She was the one who called me a dreamer. As a kid, I always dreamed of singing. Singing on a stage in front of a live audience who loved me. I would have millions of fans who looked up to me and wanted my autograph. I dreamed about it and I wrote about it. I always dreamed about it but what did I do about it? Nothing. That’s how I became a dreamer.
The her I hated happened to be called Stephanie. She had the greatest voice in the whole school. Well, that’s what all my friends had to say. I hated Stephanie for so many reasons. I wasn’t jealous but I was mad. I was mad because she had called me so many names and said so many mean things and tried to make me look bad in so many ways. It was terrible.
The girl I hated happened to call me a dreamer on the day I hated. It was the try-outs for the school play. Stephanie had sung her heart out and when it was my turn I was petrified.