Trapped with HIM

I had never been able to stand Ryder. I couldn't even stand his name. I've never been able to figure out quite what it was. He wasn't stupid, a know-it-all, annoying or silent, he just seemed to irritate me. He didn't seem to think to highly of me either.

The problem was, we were constantly bumping into each other. It was either that year we had the same teachers, or our parents dragged us to the store on the same day. Each time, we would stare at each other coldly, roll our eyes, and turn our backs to each other.

Even worse, our parents were practically best friends, and every time something like that happened, our parents would say,

"Look! It's Ryder! Why don't you two go play?" or,

"Look! It's Kayla! Why don't you two go 'hang'?"

Anyway, as you can see, although we hated each other, we were forced to spend every day together, and you might think we'd like each other more that way, but in reality, it actually made us hate each other more, and more, and more, until finally, we would throw things at each other, argue, and even a few fist fights occurred when our parents weren't looking. Ryder wasn't good about the 'no hitting girls' thing.

With all of this, you could probably guess how happy I was on the last day of school, seeing as school was 70% of the time I had to see Ryder. I'd still have to deal with that other 30%, but I'd figure it out later.

After I finished cramming things into my backpack and sat down, I proceeded to listen to my teacher try to give us a speech about life while she cried. I sighed. Our teacher gave up and pretendend to read a book so no one could see her bawling on her desk of now damp report cards.

Suddenly, something hit the back of my head. No, it was asking to much for him not to start a fight for one day.

WHAP!

That one hurt. I looked behind me on the ground and saw perfectly sharpened pencil. Then I looked up and saw Ryder innocently smiling at me from his desk.

"Is there something wrong Makayla dear?" he smirked.

"How thoughtful of you to ask." I growled, turning around.

WHAP.

A spit ball. So very un-original.

WHAP.

I should've picked up that pencil...

WHAP.

I didn't WANT to know what that was.

WHAP

That was the very last straw.

"Mrs. Blate! Ryder's throwing things at me!

"Am not!" He interrupted.

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"ARE T-"

"That is enough!" Mrs. Blate interupted. "Both of you go to the gym and help Mrs. Joyler until school is over! Maybe then you won't fight!"

She knew full well it wouldn't help at all, but we still had to say good bye to the class early, take our backpacks to the gym and help Mrs. Joyler organize equiptment, clean the floor, all that stuff.

Everything was going perfectly fine, it's what happened next that ruined my summer.