“So your Max’s friend?” asked the girl standing in front of me.

No, I wanted to say, I’m not ‘Max’s friend.’ I’m a person. A person that’s been in your English class all year, sitting one row in front of you. Instead I just forced a smile and nodded. I_ knew her, of course, being in class with her almost every day.

She was Monica Clements, a cheerleader who was constantly chewing bubble gum. She blew a bubble now as she looked me over, obviously trying to decide if I was competition. She, like just about every girl in the school, wanted Max to be her boyfriend. Just to annoy this girl, who was much more beautiful, and a million times more popular, than I was, I reached up and put a hand on Max’s shoulder and stood on my toes to whisper in his ear. She stared at it like it was a spider, then looked at me with a look that wasn’t too far from hatred.

She wouldn’t have if she knew that I wasn’t whispering some lovey-dovey remark. I was atually saying, “I hate you for making me come. You suck.”