My Contest Entry

This is my Contest Entry and I feel it didn't quite go as I hoped.  Why?  Because despite what the title suggests, you never hate him.

You Hate Him

by Matt Butrim

You watch this tall kid walk into your classroom, have a short conversation with the teacher and sit down next to you. You don't know who he is. The teacher promptly informs you and the rest of the class. It would seem that the tall kid who you don't know is a transfer student from the land of Nebraska; a place that's probably as alien as a place can be from your home in Washington. Once again you're stunned by the height of this guy. On closer examination, you can see that this tall kid isn't just tall, he's huge. You'd estimate that he's about 6 foot 5, but probably more. As for weight? You don't even try to guess.

One thing is for certain though. For reasons that you can't yet understand, he really, really pisses you off. Although you have to admit that your bias is unreasonable, as of now; you can already see the signs of a terrible person beginning to pop out. It's probably the smirk that he made when he smiled to greet the class. Perhaps it was the hurried, self-important way that he walked to his desk next to you. It could also be that it's just that he dresses like a gigantic prick, which you would not hesitate to affirm that he seems to be. Regardless, you're feeling a feeling, a feeling that's drawing over you, a feeling of utmost revulsion. And it is justified by the cosmos, somehow. You're beginning to hate him.

The day draws on, and you can't take your eyes off of him. You try to look away to your right, but then you hear a very tiny whistling noise, and whip around to see that the noise is being caused by the vibrations of the nose hairs of the tall kid in the black Hugo Boss pea coat. He's rich and annoying, the most terrible combination in the world. You try to bury your head on your desk so that you can block out the sound, but it penetrates, flying over your folded arms and under your clasped hands and straight into your brain. Yeah, your bias is starting to seem a little bit less unreasonable now.

Thankfully, the class is over, and you're off to PE, a class where you're looking forward to recuperating from the agonizing experience you were just put through. But, hey! Guess what! There he is, and wow, he's tall. You and your pals sit down in lines to rush out some stretches before you can play basketball or table-tennis or football. You realize with happiness that this is PE, and you don't have to pay attention to the giant prick. But as the PE teacher introduces him to the class and announces that in order to make him feel more comfortable you're gonna do the stretches as a group, you realize that your realization was flawed. You lead the class in quad pulls, belting out a rapid count to 10. You notice that the tall kid actually pulls his quads all the way. You are extremely annoyed. Some other kid leads the class in agonizingly slow toe touches. You look over and see that your new best friend forever is seriously holding his wrists beyond his toes, even though it's obviously causing him pain. You look at the clock, your hands limply touching your ankles, and it's already 10:00. There's only thirty minutes of class left. And then, the worst strikes.

The tall kid from Nebraska asks the PE teacher to clarify the rules of basketball. You're astounded and dismayed. He's a freaking Hoosier from the mid-west isn't he? Your PE teacher loves exposition, and embarks on a 25 minute lecture on the rules for a game where you just pick up a ball and put it in a basket. With 5 minutes left, your teacher smiles, and says that the class is dismissed. The Nebraskan smiles, and enjoys high fives from a couple of classmates, whom you're sure don't know that the young man they just clasped hands with had picked his nose just minutes before. Yep, you're really starting to hate him.

It's 11:00 and it's English and third period just like it is everyday at Auburn High School. You and your peeps are crowded around your desk reading magazines. The transfer student? It turns out you were right. He is a terrible, terrible person. He's already gained an insufferable following, and he and his homies are looking at their own magazines over at his desk. You've been trying to ignore him, but whenever you hear his name, your eyebrow twitches and you feel a burning inside your chest. You try not to talk about him, but when someone brings him up, all you can say are stupid things. Meanwhile, you're watching him and his pals. They're playing on the computer, because they already finished all the work, and then they're telling the teacher that she forgot to collect the homework. Yeah, you know. They're pretty much the worst people that were ever born. That damn Nebraskan has been making friends for some inexplicable reason, and he's taking away your buds, and there isn't anything you can do.

You see him frowning in concentration, and the way that his brow knits infuriates you. So you close your eyes and for a blissful minute you have peace. But that Nebraskan annoys on many different levels and soon you hear him laugh, and the noise grates on your ears like a metal knife. His laugh reminds you of a songbird, and for a laugh, that is a terrible thing indeed. You cover your ears with your hands, hoping that you've blocked the extent of his hateful presence. But he works on more than two levels, and once again you can feel him. This time you smell that natural Nebraskan smell that reminds you of dead cats but reminds the rest of the class of better days when mankind didn't fight. You start breathing out of your mouth and clench your hands over the lobes of your ears, massaging them, hoping to work out your righteous fury. Now you're completely blocked off from the world. The new kid is not of the world. Even in your complete isolation from your senses you can just feel something. You can feel a prickling, all over your body. You itch with his taint. You hate him. So you decide to confront him.

You walk over to him and you step on his shoes. He's smirking at you, you think. You go back to your desk and throw gum off the bottom of your desk at his face. He walks past you, completely annoying you, and you think, “who does he think he is?” When he walks, he kind of wiggles his butt. You have to crack your knuckles to keep from punching him in the face, but just as he walks past, you lose control. You punch him in the back. God knows he deserves it. So do you. So do most of the people in the school. He doesn't get it though. And he is big. He grabs your arm and holds you there until the teacher comes to rescue you. She drags you to the principal's office presumably to ask you for evidence about the transfer student's vicious assault on you. You look at the poster behind the principal's desk that says, “The Principal is your Pal” and you realize that justice is finally going to be served.

It's one week later and it's 7:30 in the morning and school is starting just like always. Justice wasn't served. You walk into school for the first time since your suspension and you glare at that monstrous bastard who shrugs his shoulders and grins plaintively. You wish he'd stop smirking. You hate him.