A/N: Hello, hello! (: Here's a story I've been writing for a long while, but just found it in an old notebook. It shocked me how similar it was to CrazyCatie's "I'm A Loser," which I've just had the privilege to read. Believe me, I didn't steal the idea from her! I swear people hack into my head sometimes O.o Either way, these are based off of poems that I've written for the past... year? or so. Eh, whatever. Either way, enjoy and RnR!


Chapter 1: Bad Boy

"Go away."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'm gonna punch your pretty little face in."

"Aw, ya think I'm pretty? Thanks, love, but sadly I can't say the same for yerself."

"Die Lennon. Rot in hell."

"I'd rather not."

"I hate you."

"That's nice."

"Ugh! You're such an arrogant prick!"

"Yep."

"Omigod just eff off!" I glare at him, threatening him with my pencil. "I'll use it. It's deadly."

"Hm, a pencil. Whacha gonna do, erase me?"

"If only, if only… Why can't you just leave me alone for once? Give me back the little bit of peace that I'm allowed to have in this hell of a world."

"Sadly, love, that isn't half as fun. Torturing ya is much more entertainin'."

"Life is torture."

"Well that makes me job all the more easier then, doesn't it?"

"Again: I hate you."

"Again: That's nice," he mocks me.

"Ugh, you're impossible!"

"I know." Oh, how I hate that smirk of his. We've been going at it for the past twenty minutes. When I had walked into my creative writing class at the beginning of the school year, I had expected a fun, easy, carefree class. Instead I got John Lennon.

Said offender had given me hell since third grade. Being tall and the only girl that could kick arse at kickball, ya think I'd be best mates with all the guys. You'd think wrong. Lennon always found something to make fun of no matter who his victim was. He'd probably make fun of his best mate if it made the others laugh. Stupid backstabbing git.

Back to creative writing. So here I am, stuck next to my arch nemesis in a class that I had originally thought I'd enjoy, passing time be arguing with this complete moron about how much I hate him and how I'll kill him. I sit, anxiously awaiting to be assigned my partner for end of the year final project, even though it's barely mid-year.

Please, oh please, oh please not him. I keep my fingers crossed under my desk. After what seems like an eternity, the teacher finally posts our partners on the wall. I run straight for it and wrestle my way through the mass of teenage bodies to the front. I quickly skim the list and when I see Lennon over Lewis my heart momentarily stops. It takes me a moment to comprehend that partners are posted next to each other, not above. Oh, thank god…

Instead of being paired with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I get a very normal girl by the name of Amber Greene. She's not really much to look at. I've never spoken to her, but she seems nice enough. Nicer than Lennon, that is.

I gratefully reseat myself next to her and wait for the teacher to explain the actual project. He eventually comes forward.

"You'll be writing a story or a collection of poems on a topic of your choice. It must consist of at least two pages, typed, with no double spaces, and have an illustration to accompany it. Both of you must work together equally on this. I suggest you all start working immediately."

"Any ideas?" I turn to Amber.

She shrugged. Wow, not very exciting, are ya?

"Um, poem or story?" That's it, keep the conversation flowing.

"I don't care."

"Well you're just the life of the party, aren't ya?" I mutter. This is gonna be harder than I'd thought. Then again, my first thoughts never seem to turn out right, do they?

Ten minutes have passed and I've only managed to get her to say a total of six more words: "Whatever," another "I don't care," and "You choose." Though her and Lennon do the exact opposite, the annoys me almost as much as he does. And that takes quite a lot.

"Screw it!" I throw my hands in the air. "We're never gonna even start this!"

"Amen."

"You shush. You seem not to have a problem with that." I glare at the unenthusiastic form.

She shrugs again. Is that the only movement you can make?

I scan the not-so-crowded room. None of my—well, can you call them friends? I occasionally hang out with them, but we've never actually gotten to know each other, ya know? Either way, there are absoutely none of my aquaintances (yeah, that fits better) there to save me.

I sigh in exasperation and defeat. This is gonna be a hell of a time trying to complete this project. A loud, familiar RIIINNGGGG! Interrupts my sulking. Has it already been an hour?

Walking out of class, I feel someone continually pushing and prodding me forward. I'd thought (oh, here we go again, me and thinking…) that it was just one of my other classmates, but no, it just has to be him.

I come to a complete stop, causing the taller person to run into me. "I said to leave me alone, jerk."

"I know ya did, but that doesn't mean I have t'listen."

"Like you ever will."

"Exactly, now yer getting' t'know me!"

"There's not much to know."

"Ey, don't be harsh, love. I'm plenty deep."

"If it's Opposite Day in Stupid Land, or your definition of 'deep' is 'shallow,' then you'd be correct for once." I swiftly walk away, trying to avoid another confrontation.

Sitting in my next class with nothing else to do, I pull out my "Creative Writing Daily Notebook." That stupid teacher had assigned this to us at the beginning of the year. We're supposed to write a daily poem expressing our thoughts and feelings, supposedly to "keep our creative juices flowing."

To my great annoyance and disappointment, my mind draws blank. I'm a great poet when the mood strikes me, but I just can't come up with something on the spot. Hense the very few entries. I sit here staring blanky at the bare pages for the rest of the period.

...

I do hope you realise

Just how much I dispise

You, being whom I hate

I hold only distaste.

A/N: So whaddya think? Do ya love it? Hate it? Well, why not tell me in a REVIEW then? (: