Samantha was ready for the bell to ring, her mind made up to storm over to the arrogant ass-hat that was Dean Morgan and wipe that smirk off his face. For four years she has put up with his annoying posturing and uncanny ability to predict her goals and rob her of the spotlight.

She had come to this school ready to conquer and carve her name into the history of New Lincoln High School, determined to be the head of the hierarchy of her class. She remembered, that first day of school, her attempt to assert the beginnings of her dominance, running into what she had believed to be some loser nerd who would forever be at the bottom of the high school food chain. How was she supposed to know that the intense humiliation he suffered at her hands would drive him to be the most popular student in the entire school? She had underestimated him then, unaware that he already had a reputation as a phenomenal football player and was even already widely liked by a large population of the student body. She kicked herself for creating what had become her only roadblock to her goal as the most popular, most liked, and most deferred-to student.

She understood her strengths, though, and used them with the skill and subtlety of a master. It was no mistake that she has never deigned to acquire a boyfriend over her high school career: she found that being single was a huge boon when it came to manipulation, especially when one had the body she had. She worked hard for it, with frequent trips to the gym and the best care for hair, nails, and skin that her father could afford. Image is an important tool, and Samantha understood that. Others would notice her natural grace, and how she seemed to move with an ethereal surety of self that few others have attained. In other words, she was beauty and grace, wrapped up in a confident, albeit manipulative, five foot four frame. And all of it meant nothing in the face of Dean, the football hero. The hunk.  Samantha could no more deny Dean’s physical appeal than he could hers, but she saw through it.

She attempted to keep her cool over the course of lunch, but the announcement earlier that morning that he would be speaking at graduation and she would go completely unremembered after her years of hard work at this school had become too much to bear. With her focus on extra-curricular activities and activism, she had been edged out of the valedictorian top spot, ranking third in the class, and as Vice-President of the senior class, there was no way she was speaking at graduation with Dean in the picture. The past month, Samantha has taken to daydreams, fantasies of Dean’s fall from grace, or a football injury warping into a coma, or something. She didn’t know what she would do when she got up to confront him; logically, she knew she had nothing on him, no information to threaten him.

Then there are the obvious physical limitations, because as much as she would like to pound him into the ground, he almost has a foot of height and at least a hundred pounds of muscle on her. More than once, she could remember, he has used that fact to this advantage in the form of physical intimidation. She never let it show, she could never let it show, but it always frightened her a little bit, and she hated that about herself. Samantha liked to think of herself as fearless.

“So what is the deal with that Dean guy? He seems like a real tool.”

This came from the new girl, an attractive girl that Samantha seemed to remember being named Anna. That was one thing Samantha prided herself on: her ability to remember faces and names.

“Anna, you have no idea.”

“Why are you just staring at him?”

“Just using my imagination.”

“What, you mean like, making out with him or something?” Anna asked in a somewhat playful tone that made it seem less like a question and more like a prodding. A bit out of character, Samantha allowed herself to be prodded.

She broke her gaze from her enemy across the room to glance at the inquiring girl. She was beautiful; there was no doubt, although not on the same level as Samantha (few were). Her green eyes were so vibrant they appeared to burn, both with passion and it even seemed, fury. She didn’t know what it was about her, but Samantha felt she could trust this girl with the side of her that she typically hid from the other students.

“No, although if you didn’t know him, I could understand why you think that. He’s an asshole, through and through, believe me. His friends are just as bad. I just wish…” Samantha trailed off, failing to grasp the appropriate words.

“Oh, you can’t leave off there. What do you wish?”

There was a strange gleam in the girls’ eye when she said this, seeming to reflect in her large garnet ring, her voice reverberating with a note of menace. For the first time, Samantha wondered how this girl even got to sit right next to her. Sitting next to Samantha Ferris was an honor, a status symbol. Normally it was Samantha’s friend Tia who sat to her left, making idle chat and currying Samantha’s favor. Was she out sick today?

Samantha’s gaze returned to Dean, and her mind once again became a maelstrom of hateful thoughts. What would she wish on him? She couldn’t think of anything appropriate enough to really get across how amuch he has vexed her. What would truly be fitting, the perfect revenge?

Samantha pondered this for only a moment before the bell rang, interrupting her thoughts. Great, thought Samantha, now she had Earth Systems, the only class she shared with Dean. All she would be thinking about was how she had come up short.

“Hey, I’ll meet you after your next class, ok? This has been fun.” said Anna as she gathered her books together and took off with a wink.

Her mind already on how much she wasn’t looking forward to sitting through a class with Dean, Samantha absentmindedly nodded her head, stood up, adjusted her black silk skirt and proceeded to the cafeteria exit.