How to Steal a Happy Ending

•nine• But you don't even care.

Sara and Vince are cousins. Cousins. Cousins. Cousins. The word's been echoing in my head ever since lunch.

James is obviously deluded. I mean, those two didn't even look remotely alike.

Maybe they're distantly related. Like a second cousin thrice removed. Whatever, nobody cares- least of all me.

I bet they used to play together when they were babies. Still don't care.

I bet Vince was a cute baby...

I let out an irritated tsk, "Where is that girl?"

I told Sara to meet me in the library at two o'clock, and now it's- I picked up my phone to check the time only to have a low battery symbol flash at me. I groaned and threw it into my bag. Well, I don't know what time it is but it's definitely not two o'clock.

I rearranged the papers I'd laid out in front of me and then rearranged my pen and pencil. Then, in having nothing better to do than make my life difficult, my thoughts returned to the guy with the rare distinction of sticking to the walls of my mind like toffee. Of course, Vince was a cute baby. He was in his dad's diaper commercials, and anyone who's met Mr.Wright knows that he takes his company too seriously to make a ugly kid his poster child- son or not. His dad used to love you, remember? I scoffed, he probably just wanted another cute baby for his advertisement and was too cheap to pay for an actor.

I made a face at what I'd just implied. Sara better get here soon, or it looks like I'll start designing an imaginary nursery room as well.

I began tapping my foot impatiently as the wait for her majesty stretched on and on. It was the same with Vince. We would plan a lunch date and then he'd show up so late that we end up eating dinner. "It probably runs in the family," I huffed.

"Are you talking to yourself?" An all too familiar voice rang out from behind the book shelf in front of me.

"Yeah, you were so late that I was starting to go crazy," I replied sarcastically, throwing her a subtle glare.

She glared back, "It's not my fault. You forgot to tell me where the library was."

"Whatever, let's just get this over with." If the school wasn't near empty already, I would have fed into the fight she was trying to pick. But I wanted to go home as soon as possible, and the look on her face told me that the feeling was mutual.

When she still didn't take a seat, I pointedly gestured to the bean bag on the other side of the table. She gave it a look of distaste before gingerly sitting down. I tried not to laugh at how awkward she looked as she tried to prevent the bean bag from sinking too far into the ground.

"I hope you're a quick learner. You have a lot to catch up on. We already finished atomic theory and nuclear models. And don't even get me started on the shit pile known as biochemistry."

"If you could learn it, I highly doubt I'll have problem doing the same." We stared at each other for a couple of seconds, harsh words right on the tip of our tongues. The library was pretty deserted during this time of day. And the mousy, old librarian was most probably asleep. Factually, if I were to snap Sara's neck in half, there'd be nothing connecting me to the crime.

Fingerprints, lack of an alibi, your dozen text messages to her demanding that she come to the library...

Sighing, I broke eye contact. "Fine, do them yourself. But I made really good notes on aromatic compounds and I already photocopied them for you." I said as I slid the papers in her direction.

She barely gave them a second glance before placing it to the side. At this, it became a downright struggle to keep the scowl off my features. Those notes had taken two weeks to compile, and were in the neatest, most compact way possible. But then again, why would female Einstein need the help of someone as absolutely fucking stupid as me.

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A/N: Have you ever been looked down upon because your level of intelligence wasn't on par with that of the others? Or were you on the other side of the glass door?

I think when it comes to situations like these I've been on both sides of the coin. The funny thing about judging someone is that we hate it when people do it us, but then un-ironically do it to them as well.

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