If Looks Could Kill - Vance Hopper

nine

That night as I lay in bed, I can only think of him, of Vance. I think about the way he gets so angry all the time, the way I've hardly ever seen him smile, the way he talks to me, the way he... touches me.

It's all so overwhelming, this feeling. Whenever I'm around him, there's this strange knot in my stomach. It travels upwards from there, to my chest, the back of my throat, until I feel like throwing up.

In a good way.

I wonder what he meant when he said he'd been watching me since seventh grade. I mean, I know what he meant, but why? Why me of all people?

Vance is nothing like me. We don't like the same things, the same people, the same anything.

I sit up in my bed. Maybe he's just fucking around with me. It makes sense. It's definitely something Vance Hopper would do.

I shove that thought far in the back of my mind because I don't want it to be true. But maybe it should be.

Vance is a douche, there's no denying it. He stole from me, he yells at me, he treats me like shit, he avoids me, he hardly talks about his feelings, I could go on for days about why I shouldn't like Vance.

I look beside me at my window. How I long for Vance to be there, behind the glass. His breath fogging up the window, the rhythm in his taps when he knocks, the way he studies me when I let him inside.

The way he kissed me on the roof and in the empty classroom.

I look around at my room. Everything is clean, like it always is, except for one of my boots on the shoe rack. The laces aren't tied the way all of the other laces on the shoes are. I get up off the bed and tie it so that it won't bother me. The laces on the boot are thick and I can't wrap them around eachother.

I turn on the light to help me see better. The laces are knotted. I dig a fingernail into the knot in attempt to get it out. My nail breaks and my eyes well up in tears. I open my bedroom door and hurl the boot out of the room. It hits the wall outside with a loud thump. Then, I slam the door.

Mom and Dad are at the casino. Jeremy is out with his Vanesa chick. Nobody hears me.

I turn the light off and sit on my bed, my breathing loud and ragged.

I clench my fists on my lap.

Why the hell does Vance do this?

Why does he have to torture me this way?

I take a pillow and scream into it, my body curling up as I do so. I scream for a full five minutes until my throat hurts. I sob uncontrollably into the pillow then throw punch after punch into it. "I. Hate. Your. Fucking. Face," I throw a punch after each word. I throw the pillow on the floor and bring my knees up to my chest, still crying.

I stay that way for a few moments, then I wipe my nose and eyes with my sleeve.

I lie down on my bed again when I realise I don't have the fucking pillow.

"Fuck!" I shout before hauling my ass out of the bed and grabbing the pillow.

I jump at the sound of a knocking on my window. I turn to look. Vance is behind the glass, expression unreadable.