She makes me so angry!

Reads: 189  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
I could kill people like that.

Submitted: October 23, 2014

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 23, 2014

A A A

A A A


Her face is round, like that of an apple.  No, not an apple.  Like a pear.  A pear stuffed within an apple.  She set a record of becoming a 110 pound 5th grader.  Frankly, I have no idea how much she weighs now... in 8th grade.  She always wears a skirt or a dress that resembles one that a waitress would wear.  And ugh!  She makes me so angry.  She carries around that stupid little plastic lunch tub filled to the rim with dried up cranberries mixed with... chocolate and marshmallow goldfish, and cheese squares.  She goes around and shares it with EVERYONE!  Except for me of course.  I have no idea how I got  her so angry at me all the time.  And something as small as her arrogant personality could get me so mad at her; not because she was unfair... it was the way that she guarded her stupid purple lunchbox whenever she was near me.  She'd make sure that, one, it was out of my reach.  Two, she'd have her fingers tightly wrapped around the opening of the lunch box.  As if I wanted it!  Does she give herself that much credit?  I wouldn't take a piece of food from her if it were the last piece of food in the universe.
 
On top of that, she's very weird.  Ever since 3rd grade, she'd run with her arms spread out in the air because she believes that wings will one day sprout from her back if she continues to do so.  She likes to reach out and paw at everything with her fingernails-- her half inch-long fingernails-- as if her life depended on it.  She'd get easily hooked onto anything-- you name it.  Whales, pandas 'acting knotty', Hitler, sockeye salmons, communists, anime, asdf movies, homestuck, you name it.  Every few seconds she'd reach out to the sky and croak "Whale sex!" or constantly be talking about manhood in public.
 
What I hate most about her is her attitude.  She's such a quiet angel in class!  A+'s in each academic!  Anything she does is perfect.  She could write a poem that stands competitive with those of Edgar Allan Poe's.  Her short stories make so much sense!  What is this, who is underneath the skin of the beast?  She even managed to make it to 11th place on the Cross Country team.  I used to rely on her in French 1.  I wasn't the brightest french student, and so I'd constantly lean over to ask her something like ,"Hey, are all of the days in the week masculine or feminine?"  Shortly later, she'd slam her fist into the desk and yell in my face as if I were a burden to her.  As if I were so, so, unbelievably stupid.  Oh, I was a living hell!  Sitting next to me was a huge pain!
 
When middle school rolled in, I was the fastest typist in the school.  110 words per minute, I was unbeatable!  Even Lily couldn't catch up to me.  I was the queen.  Yet Lily still had a better grade in computer class.
How?
She'd purposely flunk pretests with a score of around 60 words per minute and set a goal for 65.  Then, every day she would vigorously train on her weird typing websites for hours.  By the time the real test came up, she'd passed her goal with a score of 80 words per minute.  Because she cheated.
I, on the other hand, started off with a pretest score of 104 word per minute.  I set my goal for 115 words per minute, but only made it to 111.
I failed my test.
But still, I was the queen.  On every typing practice, I'd pass everyone else with flying colors!  Oh, the joy of finally grasping my second talent.  My second talent in which I could surpass Lily.
 
My first one was my perfect pitch.  I was an excelling music student.  I never took my piccolo home; I never played a note on it when I wasn't in band.  Yet I could play more fluently, more beautifully...  Just so much better than all of the band!  I could count beats, I could memorize several long songs and play them with my eyes closed!  I could sit down at a piano bench and run my fingers along those notes so gracefully, it'd leave my own band director in awe.  Everything I did was right in band.  If you played a C, and if I wasn't looking, I could still tell you that it was a C.  That's perfect pitch.
Lily didn't have perfect pitch.
She'd always play a B and think that it's a B flat.
But oh, how wrong.
How painstakingly wrong!
How hideous her music is!
It made me feel so proud, to dwarf her!  She'd take her flute home and practice scales every day, up and down, up and down.  She'd sit down with her mother and practice geometry from morning until night.  She was never playing, she never sat down and relaxed; It was either studying or sleeping!  There was no time for her to eat.  She'd bring a couple of Stephen King's novels down and read while she ate.
And then she'd come to school and beat me down.  Everything, except for music and typing... Everything she did seemed perfect.
And now I know why.
But oh, what a lazy person I am!  I never had the nerve to sit down with a textbook and read it cover to cover, and I never will!  I had geometry every other day, and I'd never do the homework until the morning it was due!
 
What a terrible girl!  What a strategic, malicious, constructed personality Lily had.
 
It wasn't long until both of us got into drawing.
She enrolled in an art school for 5 years while I sat back and doodled in class.  Her art was beautiful.  Fantastic, flawless.  Nothing but perfection came out from her fingers.
She was never surprised to win the most awards.  Most mornings, she'd come and discuss grades with us.
"What grade do you have in geometry?  I have an 102."
I had a 90.  Would I say that?  Of course not.  "102?  How'd you get that?" I'd ask.
"The drawing."
"Oh."
I started practicing art with a tablet, one especially made for beginners.  One that allows a person to draw on the computer.
Soon enough, Lily got one too.
Both of us started to come up with characters, with stories that we'd tell... stories with our characters in them.
Her characters angered me, they turned me cold, fierce; my brain was on fire, my heart was in ice!  Her characters were all beautiful women!  They ran around, killing people-- my characters-- and they had magic!  They had huge breasts, oddly colored hair, and were bipolar triplets!  They were so mean!  So terribly mean!  If my character was coughing blood up on the floor, hers would be laughing and jabbing mine's side with a bow and arrow!  They were queens of hell, they were teenagers, they could command ghosts, they could fly, they could lift elephants with their mind-- I was finished with them!  I hated them!  I wanted to get rid of them, forever!  I asked Lily to change their outfits; how could a strong navy soldier wear a lacy blue dress in battle?  Why was her hair so wavy, two-toned, and beautiful?  Why was she so overpowered?
 
...  I could kill people like this.
Honestly, I could.  Every day, she'd come to school in a different dress.  They were all beautiful dresses, but why put them on a girl with a hideous face?  Her thighs were wider than my head, and her hair-- her oh so thin hair-- she barely had any!  It was long, silky, and beautiful, but I could see her scalp just by looking at her forehead.
If I had 3 million strands of hair, she would have 300 thousand strands.
Yet she tended to it so carefully!
"My hair is really special.  It sparkles like a lacy velvet maroon color in the sunlight," she'd say.
Don't we all have hair like that?  Even girls with pitch black hair... their hair would sparkle in the sunlight.  Yet she would always talk about her clothes, her skin, her nails, anything that she had in that inventory of hers like that.  As if it was special.
"Eggplants make my tongue feel weird when they're not ripe.  It's special.  My tongue is special," she'd say.
Um... that happens to us all.
One day she wrote in a time capsule that I'd be married before I got out of high school.
I never planned on marrying.  Nor do I ever plan to.  Maybe I'll marry my dog.
 
 
 
Okay, that's the end of this part.  If I get like any requests to continue it, I will... But...
reading this over, this story sounds kinda true.  Lemme justify the facts: Lily doesn't exist!  This is fictional. :)  but there is a certain someone who inspired this.  But she's... completely different from Lily.  She's like one of those backstabbers.  She's not good at anything, and she's got like 6 boyfriends.  Also that image is the character that I was talking about earlier in the story.
 
I didn't draw that character, my friend did because she really likes this story and all, so credit goes to her.  Also if you wanna see my art then you can go to my home page :P
I guess it's good, I don't want to flatter myself but I don't want to be one of those sadistic craps who say "OMG IM SO BAD AT EVERYTHING"


© Copyright 2018 MelanyBaga. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Young Adult Short Stories