A Short Fiction

I wrote this short story for a writing competition - only to realize that I had it ready a day after the deadline! The theme was "Love gets him in more trouble than hate ever could."

 

"The Girl of My Nightmares"

 

There she is, girl of my nightmares.

Always on the other side of the room. It’s not far enough. Everything she does is annoying. Sometimes I think she plans it in advance: The pink sparkly pens she writes her name in. The way she’s always faster than me. That giggle (gross!). The fact that she never seems to know I exist.

I hate her.

She could see me in the cereal aisle at the store and not remember we’re in the same class. I could bump against her with three boxes of granola, and she wouldn’t stop looking at the corn flakes. I could knock over a display of Blueberry-Honey Bunches right on top of her and she would only worry that her dress is messed up. I know, because I’ve tried.

I might be sure she doesn’t know I exist, except that she once turned around and walked the other direction when she saw me coming. And once she gave an answer to a question that I knew just so I’d look stupid for saying it wrong. She’s a know-it-all.

I hate everything about her. That pink sparkly pen. The flip she gives her hair when the braid tickles her cheek. The way her hair looks like chocolate. The way I can’t stop looking at her. How cute she was in that dress.

Until last Thursday. That’s when I realized I kinda didn’t hate her. That’s when I put the lizard in her lunch bag and she didn’t scream. She jumped, but then she laughed (not giggled) and touched it with the very tip of a sparkly-pink nail-polished finger. And that’s when I realized I didn’t actually want her to scream. I don’t know what I wanted.

So I tried again. But I couldn’t find a lizard, so in the end it had to be sand in her shoes. She didn’t notice it was me though, and just dumped it out.

So: I don’t hate her.

I think I’m in love with her.

This is awkward. I’ve hated her for so long that now she hates me back. And what if everyone else finds out?

But it didn’t matter: I had to tell her that I actually like her. It would be worth it to have her maybe not hate me anymore.

I decided a secret message would be best.

On Monday I stole her pen.

I hate pink sparkles. But it would be worth it.

I drew a picture Monday night of a pink sparkly lizard, named Emma just like her. But I couldn’t bring myself to write the message in pink sparkles, so it had to be normal pencil. It said:

“Top Secret!

I actually like you. You’re very pretty, and it was great how you liked the lizard. Do you maybe like me back?

Love, Mac.”

Maybe I should have made it poetry. Girls like poetry.

But before I could figure out how to give it to her on Tuesday, she started screaming because she couldn’t find her pink sparkly pen. I forgot about that. It was in my pocket and I took it out, wishing I’d left it home or dropped it in the hall or something.

Then she saw it in my hand and screamed: “He has it! Mac stole my pen!”

“No, I didn’t!” I said, so confused that I almost didn’t remember it was a lie until too late.

She was so upset that I got in trouble at home too.

The next day I still hadn’t given her the lizard-picture message. I tried putting it into her lunch bag, but she was watching her stuff so closely that I didn’t have a chance. So later when nobody was looking I snuck up to her and slipped it into her hand. Then I should have run away, but I couldn’t. My heart was beating too fast.

She looked surprised, opened it up, and then barely glanced at it.

“That’s why you stole my pen?” she yelled, and crumpled it up to throw at me.

“No!” I said, grabbing it. “No! You’re supposed to read it!”

I tried to make her take it. She screamed so loud that everyone came running.

That’s how I wound up in the principal’s office.

“Leave Emma alone!” they all said. “Sit on the other side of the room so you won’t bug her.”

How was I supposed to know being in love would get me in so much trouble?

There she is, girl of my dreams…