Chapter 2
I didn't end up retaliating against Justin that day. I wasn't going to pull any of that weak junk he had pulled on me. (Sign on the back--how Junior High is that?) No, my attack was going to be big, it was going to be strong, and it was going to be when he least expected it.
As I was thinking these thoughts, someone came into my classroom when I least expected it. Yes, that's right, reader! You win a prize! It was exactly the person you're thinking of: Justin Timberlake.
His tall frame filled up the doorway. Some girls sighed in adoration. I sighed in irritation. What was he doing in my AP Senior English class?
Justin walked to our teacher's desk and handed him a note. They exchanged words and soon the teacher was trying to get the class's attention.
"Class," Mr. Watts cleared his throat. "Justin Timberlake is transfering into our class. Apparently he was a little too advanced for normal Senior English courses and his counselor recommended he join us."
All the girls began to whisper amongst themselves. I rolled my eyes.
"At the beginning of this year, I let the students choose where they wanted to sit," Mr. Watts explained to Justin. Yes, he did let us choose where we wanted to sit--which was why I was in the back row, alone. Now, don't cry for me, Argentina. I was used to being in the back. Which was the way I liked it.
But… now I was beginning to wonder if had made a mistake. All the other desks in the class were filled--which meant that if Justin was staying in my class, then he would have to sit somewhere in my row.
"But since you're joining us so late," Mr. Watts continued, "you'll have to grab a seat in the back…"
"He can sit by me!" Carrie Hollis, a cheerleader (one of those annoyingly cute ones, too) squeaked.
"Yes, sit by her!" I squeaked inaudibly.
"But Carrie, Alan is sitting next to you."
"That doesn't matter!" Carrie exclaimed. She always spoke in exclamations. "He can sit in the back next to Bertha!"
Mr. Watts rubbed his forehead. "Who's Bertha?"
Carrie squealed--I mean, giggled. "You know, Bertha! Big Bertha! In the back!"
Justin chuckled along with the rest of the class. I just sat in the back of the class wondering how someone as stupid as Carrie could get into an AP course. Maybe I was in the wrong class? I had to be if both Justin and Carrie were there.
"Now, Ms. Hollis--we talked about respect before in this class. You're a senior, I shouldn't have to ask you to respect others."
"It's okay, Mr. Watts," I said. "She forgets things sometimes. It's hard to remember to respect people when you have nothing but air inside your head."
Carrie whipped around to face me. "I'd rather be full of air than full of lard!"
"That is enough! Both of you!" Mr. Watts said sternly. He turned back to Justin. "I apologize for the lack of respect that you see in this classroom. Trust me, it isn't like this everyday. Now, you will sit in the back next to Ms. Chasez."
Justin nodded and made his way to the back row. Then he did something I didn't expect (again!)--he sat next to me.
"Hey, is your last name really Chasez?"
"No, it's my stage name, loser."
"Because I have a friend with the last name of Chasez. His name is Joshua… JC. You know him?" Justin leaned closer to me.
"Well, I have a cousin named JC."
"Really? That's cool. I was on a TV show with him…"
I rolled my eyes. "You were on the Mickey Mouse Club with JC? Yeah, right."
Justin smiled proudly. "I was. Ask him."
"You know, if I even talked to JC--and if I even cared, I might consider doing that. But I don't. So please, leave me alone and go back to your bubbly world full of Carrie Hollises."
"You have an attitude problem, you know that?"
"What?" I scoffed. "I am not the one with an attitude problem--you are, Mister I-think-I-am-so-hot! You may look good on the surface, but I've gotten a whiff of your personality--and let me tell you: it stinks!"
Justin sighed. "Look, I'm not about to trade insults with a fat girl."
"Why? Because you know you'll lose?" Ha! No way he could top that one.
"Speaking of losers, you should try being one someday."
Okayyyy, what was that supposed to mean? "Huh?"
"Yeah, try losing some of that weight." He wrinkled his nose. "Fat isn't attractive. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a class to pay attention to." Justin slid out of the desk next to me and moved as far away from me as possible.
I stared down at my list, breathing harder with each second that passed. Justin was a complete jerk!
But why was I letting him get to me? I mean, I had spent my whole life being teased. He was just one more person on a long list of tormenters. He didn't matter. He was insignificant. Not worth my time.
So why did I have a list filled with 20 ways to get back at him?
I pondered this question for the quickest second before I got my answer. It was, "Who Cares?" I was still going to get him--I was going to get him good.
***
I met up with Maria at my locker the next morning, humming.
"Something's different about you," Maria observed. "You're… radiant."
"That, my friend, is because I am happy!" I cheesed it up. Normally, I give little weak smiles or smirks, but I was grinning ear to ear.
"What happened?" Maria grabbed my arm. "I need to know the details!"
"Nothing happened," I gave her a secretive smile. "I just know that today is going to be a good day."
"Girl, whatever you're on, share it with me!"
Maria and I walked down the hall--well, I sort of bounced. I had an extra hop in my step. Straight ahead I saw Justin, engrossed in a card or love letter of some sorts. It had tons of hearts on it. Enough to make someone sick.
"I hate hearts," Maria said with a glance at Justin.
"I like broken ones," I laughed.
I was pulling a literature book out of my backpack when Justin rushed into our classroom, covering his face. What happened to Mr. Cool-Calm-and-Collected?
He dropped into the seat next to mine. "This is all your fault!"
"What is?" I couldn't see anything with him covering half his face.
He removed his hand to show a slightly swollen, bruised eye.
"As much as I would love to hit you--again--I'm sorry to say that I am not responsible for that… beauty mark."
Justin shook his head in disgust. "Oh, you know what you did. That card in my locker this morning wasn't from Danielle Zamora-it was from you! Only, I figured that out a little too late."
"Whatever do you mean?" I feigned innocence.
"I mean, 'Danielle' gave me a love letter. She said she had broken up with her boyfriend and wanted to get together with me. She's hot, so I was like, yeah. So, I went up to her at lunchtime and was flirting with her. Well--she didn't break up with her boyfriend, like her so-called letter had said! I found this out by turning around when someone tapped my shoulder and getting punched in the face!"
"Oh, you poor thing!" I exclaimed. "Justin, when I wrote that letter, I didn't mean for it to turn out like this. I just thought you would get a little embarrassed."
"Well, I'm a lot embarrassed." Justin said, bitterly. "And hurt."
"I hurt you? Oh, I'm so sorry."
"You didn't hurt me. Brandon hurt me." Justin covered his eye again.
"Listen, I think we need to call a truce. These pranks are ridiculous--I think we're even. You called me fat, I got you a swollen eye. We should stop now before we end up killing each other." I extended my hand for him to shake.
"I don't know if I should trust you, but… okay." Justin shook my hand.
He was right. He shouldn't have trusted me. Because there was no way I was really calling a truce. The war had just begun--and I was using a little strategy I liked to call Blitzkrieg.
***
The day that Justin and I had declared an end to our war was a Friday. I had the whole weekend to prepare to get Justin really good. I called Maria up and spilled to her about the love letter and about my upcoming plans.
"You know I think you're genius and I support your Anti-Justin cause, but I think this may be crossing the line," Maria told me.
"Maria, I need to put the creep in his place. This is the only way he's going to shut up."
"But, didn't you call a truce? He's going to leave you alone." Maria countered. "Just let it go. Ignore him and move on."
"If you don't want to help me, fine. But I'm still going to do what I planned."
"Whatever. When you get in trouble, don't come crying to me."
"I'm not going to get in trouble, Maria!" I twisted the phone cord around my finger. "I'm a straight-A student who has never gotten detention, never done anything wrong. Why would they suspect me?"
"I guess you're right. But remember, I don't agree with it."
"You know, if you weren't my only friend, I'd hang up on you."
***
I went straight to class Monday morning. I didn't go to my locker and I didn't pass by Justin like I normally did. That was because I was scared stiff at the idea that he might blame me for any of the things in the hall.
I woke up really early that morning. I walked to school carrying 250 Xeroxed copies of a little something I had created on the computer.
I knew that it had caused a buzz around the school because people were talking about it as soon as they entered Math class.
"I wonder who did it," one girl was saying.
"That was really cruel," another said.
I, on the other hand, was silent in the back of the class, hoping no one would catch on to how nervous I was.
The bell rang and class started. Miss Gibson began to lecture, but was soon interrupted by an announcement on the PA system.
"Students, I have something very important to discuss with you this morning." Our principal echoed throughout the school. "As you all know, respect is very important at Bayview High School. I was very disappointed to see the display of utter disrespect posted on our very walls. Posting edited pictures of people and tarnishing their character is not only mean, but low and it speaks volumes about the person who did it. We never want to see anything like this again. Remember, disrespecting other people is disrespecting yourself." Click.
I sat very still in my desk, trying my best not to look scared.
Miss Gibson addressed the class: "Does anyone know what Mr. Johnson is referring to?"
"Ooh, I know," a girl named Tiffany Rodriguez spoke up. "So, like, this morning when I was entering the hallway, I saw all these papers and stuff, right? Well, I looked at these fliers on the wall, and like, I was like, who is that? Well, like, I looked closer and I saw it was that new guy, Justin--ooh, he's a hottie--and his forehead was covered with the word, 'Loser.'"
"Does anyone know who did it?" Miss Gibson asked. "I know it wasn't anyone in this class, but does anyone have any idea?"
"I think it was Brandon Barnes," Jenny, a semi-nice girl said. "Apparently, Justin tried to steal his girlfriend. Brandon hit him yesterday in the cafeteria, but maybe that wasn't enough."
"Well, I'll mention this to Principal Johnson." Miss Gibson decided. "Now, take out your books and let's get started."
Maria and I met at our usual table at lunch that day. She wore an expression of disgust and disappointment.
"I didn't think you were actually going to go through with it," she said, angrily opening her carton of milk.
"Why wouldn't I? Now he knows the embarrassment that I face every single day. It'll strengthen his character."
"I'm just… really… disappointed in you, Ali. I thought you were a stronger person than this."
I couldn't believe Maria was turning on me. Sure, she didn't have to agree with what I did, but she didn't have to be all "I'm better than that," about it.
"You don't understand what it's like to be me, Maria, and you never will."
Maria looked taken aback. "What? I understand you more than anyone else at this school. You think I don't suffer through the same things are you? That's bull, Ali, and you know it!"
"You understand what it's like to be fat, yes," I told her. "But you don't understand what it's like to be ugly!"
"Fat is ugly at this school, Ali. Open your eyes! You don't see me going out on any dates, do you? Do people even give me a second look? When they do, it's because I'm so fat. No one looks at me and thinks, 'I wish I looked like her.'"
"I do," I said quietly. "You are pretty. It's just the people here are so shallow that they can't see it."
"If they are so shallow, then why bother trying to prove anything to them? You're pretty shallow, too, Ali, to put up those dumb posters of Justin across the school."
I looked down at my spaghetti. Maybe Maria was right. Maybe I was wrong to put posters of Justin up across the school. And maybe I should have been feeling bad--but I wasn't. At that moment, I was wondering why I should feel sorry about making Justin feel the way I felt everyday of my life--especially when he was one of the people who caused me to feel insecure and worthless. Maybe Maria thought it was low and mean to do what I did, but I had no regrets. None whatsoever.
It was then that I looked up and realized that Justin wasn't at his normal table. At first, this realization made me happy. I had shamed Justin to the point of him having to cut school. I had achieved what I had hoped to achieve--I was in fat girl nirvana. But then, another thought occurred to me: what if Justin hadn't even showed up to school that day? What if he was absent? What if he wasn't there to witness my pure genius and the demise of his popularity? If he wasn't there, then all my work was in vain!
I calmed myself down. There was no real way to find out if Justin was at school or not until after lunch--when I had AP Senior English with him.
***
Justin wasn't in AP Senior English that day--or any other day for two weeks.
Even though I was happy to not be around him, I was truly disappointed with his disappearance. He wasn't there to experience any of the effects of my prank. By the time he came back to school, everyone had forgotten about it and he was as popular as ever; he had changed his look: instead of his normal curly, afro-like hair, he had cut it short and bleached it. As much as I didn't want to admit it, it made him look even more attractive. And I definitely wasn't the only one to notice.
"Man, that boy is hot," Maria told me at lunch the day he returned. "I mean, he was hot when he first came here, but I guess not seeing someone for two weeks makes you forget. And I love his new hair!"
I nearly slapped Maria. I couldn't believe she was going ga-ga over the guy who had dissed me so bad.
"Please don't join the Justin Timberlake fan club," I told Maria. "I couldn't take it if you hopped on that bandwagon, too."
"There's nothing wrong with… looking." Maria said, glancing over her shoulders to look at Justin. "You know you think he's hot, too."
"I think he's a loser." I played with my fries.
"Sure, whatever," Maria smiled. She was not convinced.
***
"Miss me?" Justin said as he sat next to me in English class that day.
"How could I?" I answered. "You know, your head resembles a highlighter pen."
Justin grinned. "Well, I guess people at this school must love highlighters because I've been getting nothing but good feedback. Except from you."
I ignored his comment and gave into my growing curiosity. "Where have you been?"
"So you did miss me!" That boy was so arrogant. "I was doing things."
"Things, huh? What sort of things?"
"Things that had to do with your cousin."
"JC? What were you doing with JC?"
"JC and I are thinking of forming a music group with these other guys we know."
Right. "Don't you have to be talented to be a music group?"
"Haha, very funny. Actually, you don't have to be talented. You just have to be hot--and that's what I am."
I don't know why I spent time talking to him. Every time he would open his mouth, I would hate him even more.
"Justin, I really think you need to take some classes in modesty. Arrogance is not attractive."
"I don't think I need lessons from you on how to be attractive." Justin looked me up and down.
"Listen," I told him. "I may not be attractive. Okay, I'm not attractive. But at least I have class--something you obviously lack."
"I have class." Justin responded. "And right now, you're interrupting it. So, if you don't mind, please stop drooling over me and let me pay attention to it. Thanks so much."
As Justin turned to face Mr. Watts, I sat wondering if it were possible for anyone to be more annoying than Justin Timberlake was. I quickly concluded that it wasn't possible; Justin Timberlake was the most annoying person on the planet.
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