Marceline Adams had changed over the summer. She once was an ugly stupid duckling, now a less ugly and still stupid bird. The kind of bird my grandpa would shoot and display in his shitty basement.
Marceline Adams was the girl next door. No, literally, she lived right next door. Everything she did, I knew about. Not that I was watching her, she was just so obvious.
Marceline Adams is the typical girl. Loves the color pink. Always talking about her hair, boys, and "what color to paint my toe nails?". She makes me sick to my stomach. The fact that our hatred began on the first day of kindergarten, does not imply that our hatred is some unnatural way of love that will blossom any time soon. In eight grade, she tried to pull that one on me. By the middle of the year, she was telling everyone that she loved me and that I wouldn't understand until I was in high school, and that she'll "wait" for me. When freshman year came, she forgot about me; I wish it had stayed that way.