Chapter 1

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I hate Mondays.

I hate every day of the week when I have to go to school, actually.

I really hate school.

The reason I hate school is named Phil Lester. He's the resident bad boy who thinks it's super fun to beat me to a pulp almost every day.

I, personally, don't find it that fun. I find it annoying and mildly terrifying.

I don't know why I thought this Monday would be any different, but that little shred of hope quickly left my mind as I was shoved against my locker by none other than the bad boy himself.

"Hey, gaylord. How was your weekend?" Phil smiled as he held me up by my lapel. I struggled a little, but I knew it was useless.

"Why do you care?" I managed to say.

Phil frowned. "I was just trying to make conversation, geez. But we can get on with the inevitable, if you'd like." He dropped me, and before I could get away I found myself on the ground looking up at him.

"You know, Dan," he started. "I was thinking about cutting you a break today."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right. Don't give me false hope like that, you twit."

Phil slapped me hard. Damn me and my big mouth. "You're being incredibly rude today, Dan." He hoisted me up and shoved me against the lockers once again.

I tried to kick at him, but I didn't get very far with that plan because he kneed me in the stomach and dropped me back onto the floor. He kicked me in the abdomen a few times, and I heard the late bell go off, which meant I would get another detention.

My day was going wonderfully.

***

"Daniel, you know what this means, right?"

I sighed as my teacher lectured me on the importance of being on time to class. I really didn't care about a single word that was coming out of his mouth.

"Yes, sir. It means another detention."

He nodded. "Maybe after this one you'll learn your lesson." He handed me a detention slip and told me to go sit down.

Or maybe you could expel Phil Lester, yeah? That would fix this whole "being late" issue!

I'd said something to the principal about Phil bullying me before, but he just shrugged it off, saying that it was "just a natural part of high school" and that I "should just ignore him and he'll stop".

Well, I don't know what fantasy high school he went to, but this is reality and things don't work like that around here.

I ungracefully flopped into my seat and proceeded to zone out for the entire lesson. Then the bell rang, and I was rushing off to my next class.

I normally loved art class. It was by far my favorite subject.

However, since Phil Lester seemed to have ruined every aspect of my life, he obviously shared that class with me.

Joy.

To make it even better, the first thing I see written on the whiteboard as I walk in are the words "group project" with a list underneath it.

I didn't even have to read the list to know who my partner was, considering Phil was smirking at me and motioning me over with his hand.

Why does the universe hate me?

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