Dean watched Samantha walk in from his usual seat at the back of the classroom. The teacher loved to call on students who sat in the front row; those he felt actually cared about his special (or boring) brand of science. Of course, Samantha sat in the front, eager to answer any question that he would fire out over the course of the fifty-minute class period. Dean didn’t try anything immature, like shooting spitballs at the back of her head during, say, a class video as they sat in the dark, although he was tempted. To be honest, he was actually just relieved that she couldn’t glare at him with her back turned to him. At least, he didn’t believe she could, although she may try. Dean smiled at the image.

This brief smile melted from his face when he watched her walk in. As much as he tried, he could not help the fact that his overactive male hormones were screaming “Oh my god! Look at that body! OH MY GOD!” Normally, he could ignore these things when he was dealing with her face to face, his hatred overcoming any inclination to drool and beg to be touched by her. When he was farther away from her, when she didn’t know he was looking…it was easy to pretend that she was simply a beautiful girl who begged to be gawked at. Dean was careful to control the looks on his face, in case she ever caught him looking at her when there wasn’t a mutual hatred-stare involved. If she ever found out that he found her as attractive as everyone else did…that would be a strong card in her favor.

She walked through the door, thankfully not looking for him but instead ignoring the fact that he was there. Sweeping her long, straight black hair out of her eyes with one hand, the other holding her books in the crook of her arm, which was bare to the shoulder, fingernails black today. She wore a low cut tan tank top, showing off her amazing chest, with a black cloth jacket that was very short sleeved. Her black silk skirt reached to her knees and only hinted at the beautifully shaped legs underneath. She wore black flip-flops, her long toes tipped in black. Dean would never admit it to anybody, but he found her feet attractive. To be honest, there wasn’t much about her that wasn’t attractive, the care she put into every part of her body from hair to toenails was extensive.

She sat in her usual seat, and as Mr. Platt began to drone on about the cretaceous period, Dean found himself watching Samantha. She was slipping her feet in and out of her flip-flops, playfully slipping the throng of the sandal in-between her toes, lifting them, and letting the fall. Just typical idle girl foot play. Dean then noticed a tattoo she on the side of her right foot: a black-lined flower, possibly a lotus, below the ankle. He had never noticed it before; perhaps she had a bit of a wild side. Isn’t that what tattoo’s meant at this age? Regardless, Dean let his eyes shift between watching Samantha and feigning interest in Mr. Platt’s droning speech. It was nice, for a while, to imagine that this was just some random hot girl, no harm in looking.

The period shot by fast, and when the bell rang, Dean shot up from his seat and hurried out the door. As was typical this time of day, he met Ken and Leon by his locker, which was just to the left of the door to Earth Systems. They weren’t there yet, as their class was on the second floor, so Dean opened his locker to deposit his books. After emptying his backpack, he closed the locker door, only to face-to-face with Samantha, a look of hate etched upon her face.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” opened Samantha.

“And you seem to be talking to yourself. I wouldn’t do that if I was you, it might damage your reputation.” countered Dean, grinning and turning back to his locker. Samantha just continued to glare at him.

“I’m sorry, did you have something else to say? I’m kinda busy here.” sighed Dean, knowing exactly what to say to push her buttons. There was nothing that pissed her off more than being treated like she wasn’t important.

“You don’t deserve to talk at graduation. You don’t deserve to be class president. Those things were supposed to be mine.” said Samantha.

“Listen, Sammy, this is almost sad. You are just going to have to deal with the fact that I won, you lost: it’s over. You have no one to blame but yourself. So get over it.”

“You’ll get yours, Dean. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but one of these days, your arrogance and ego will be the end of you.”

“You are going to talk to me about arrogance? You, Queen of Entitlement? You are living in a dream world, Sammy. You just don’t know how to deal with being second best, and I wish I could help you with that, but I don’t know what that’s like, so…”

A voice came from behind Samantha.

            “You lost, Queen Bitch?” said Ken with a cackle.

Samantha spun around, a look of murder in her eyes.

“Yeah, you were just leaving, right?” followed Leon.

Samantha looked back and forth at Leon and Ken for a moment, then turned back to Dean. Her voice became shaky and her next sentence practically dripped venom.

“I just wish you and your friends would know what it’s like to be completely unnoticed, invisible to those around you. And when you fall from grace, to know that in the end, it was me who destroyed you.” With that, Samantha stormed off down the hallway.

“Sore loser.” said Dean, breaking into laughter.

“Man, she got a problem. Bitch is crazy. All “I wish” like she got some evil genie or something.” added Leon.

            “Aw, Just forget about her. Let’s get out of here.” Said Ken.

            With that, the three began to walk toward the stairwell, unaware that another figure in the crowded hall had been following the entire conversation, a hateful glint in her green eyes as she rubbed her garnet ring and whispered, “As you wish.”

            Dean, Ken, and Leon never made it to the stairwell.