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So first off. Back in fifth grade, I've already mentioned about the worms he put in my spaghetti at lunch one, fine morning. It all happened so fast but I would never forget it until the day I die. I almost ate the disgusting crawlers! Almost! Ugh, even the memory itself was making me gag. I remembered throwing the food away from me and screaming at him to apologize this instant and buy me a new one, but the son of a crap just waved at me, grinned a toothy grin (he just grinned!), then bolted out of the canteen without a backward glance.
Since then, I've been scared of worms, specifically those long, red ones you can find under the earth when you dig deep enough. I'd had nightmares about finding them in my cereal, on my hair, and inside the toilet bowl for three nights straight! And I blamed him for all of it.
That was the start of my long-standing enemyship with France-freaking-Kinsley.
>>>
In sixth grade, he killed my science project. It was a cute little caterpillar I was supposed to be observing for a few weeks until it turned into a beautiful butterfly and flutter away. And no, I wasn't scared of it at all because aside from being green, that caterpillar was soft and fluffy and more friendly-looking than the earthworms. Most importantly, they weren't the ones I almost put in my mouth.
Anyway, I was walking with a classmate toward the classroom and gushing over how cute Catey was (yup, named her, too), telling the classmate, whose name I've forgotten, about how I found the cutie in one of my mom's flower plants and how I had the bright idea to use it for my science project. Just then, these rowdy boys came from out of nowhere and one of them pushed me a little, causing Catey to fall from my small hands. I panicked and told everyone to stop moving so I could pick her up, but the morons, being the morons they were, obviously weren't listening so they continued to push past us and then—splat! Someone's big, ugly shoe stepped on Catey, and what had been once a fluffy, green, innocent, little caterpillar when the shoe lifted again was turned into an unrecognizable splattering of wet, slimy goo on the ground.
When I lifted my eyes, with deliberate slowness and murder in them, what did I see? France Kinsley, standing there, looking at the sole of his shoe with disgust like he didn't just commit the most heinous crime of all. And know what he said?
"Yuck! Stupid worm!"
I'd cried for days, cursing the very day he was born. I swore I would never forgive him for doing that. And so far, I was making good on my promise.
>>>
When we were in 9th grade, I'd just been asked for the first time on a movie date by this guy who had a crush on me. His name was Victor Pinnock and he was in my class, and since mom and dad knew his parents personally, they allowed me to go alone, despite HD's protests and petitions to chaperone us. Overprotective older brother. So my parents dropped us off at the cinema downtown and of course, I was so ecstatic because I could finally watch * on the big screen, and to top it off, I was on my 'first date'. I remembered imagining the jealous faces of my friends when I told them all about it at school the following week. That would be one funny conversation, I could see it in my head.
Victor and I then went inside the theater together and were just waiting for the trailers to be over, when his phone suddenly rang. I was like, Wow, someone's calling him already, is that his parents? Then my ears perked up when he answered it in a panic (phones ringing at the cinemas is a big no-no) and I heard him say, "Oi, dude. What you calling me for?"
Someone on the other side said something, and this was how the one-sided conversation went:
"No, I can't today. I'm on a date right now... I told you yesterday! I'm with Clare... What? No, of course not! She's fine..." Victor had chuckled, but something the person on the other line had said cut it short. "W-wait, w-what?!... You mean the new, updated version? The one that's not on the market yet?... Woah! That's so cool! Um, I think maybe I can make it, after all. Yeah... But, my date... Urgh, all right, man, you're leaving me no choice... I can make it, dude! Wait for me, I'm on my way!"
After ending the call, he'd turned to me with a sheepish grin, scratching his head awkwardly. "Uh, hey, Clare. Um—"
"You have to go." I'd stated the obvious, because duh, I've been eavesdropping.
"Uh, yeah, I'm really sorry. It's just, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be invited at his house and play that brand-new Xbox with the guys..." Victor was mumbling in a low voice and couldn't meet my eyes.
"Who was that?" I'd demanded, miffed that he would be so willing to leave me alone here for some Xbox, I mean, I thought he liked me?
He'd scratched his head again. "Oh, that was France. He said if I don't make it within five minutes he'll never invite me again. Would you mind if I...go?"
France. Of course it was him. Of course!
"Just go," I'd told Victor dismissively and turned to the screen, my mood fast-spiralling downwards. There was no point in trying to convince him to stay. I didn't want to, either. If he was friends with the devil, then I didn't want anything to do with him anymore.
Good riddance.
"Really?!" His eyes practically had stars in them, mistaking my dismissal as permission. "Oh, you're awesome! Promise, I'll make it up to you—"
"Don't bother, Victor. In case you didn't realize, this," I'd pointed at him then at me for emphasis, "is also a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You've made your choice. Now go and play with your friends, and just pretend this 'date' never happened. Because it never did, anyway. Goodbye."
When Monday came and we were back in school, I didn't return his smile or talked to him when he tried. He'd chosen France over me, so he must suffer the consequences. I didn't even care when he started becoming irritable towards the other kids and reclusive for the next two weeks due to the cold shoulder I was giving him. He got over it, anyway.
But it wasn't my fault. It was France's, the date-sabotager.
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