From the point of view of Alex Pert:
Look at that son-of-a-bitch Johnny Derry over there. He thinks he is the shit, but he's nothing but shit.
Every single morning I get to wake up and watch him and his perfect girl friend make-out in the quad. I fucking hate him. He has everything I want…Friends, a girl, grades, EVERYTHING!
I'd wrap a piano wire around his neck and pull and pull and pull until his blood was all over his pretty little woman, who'd be begging on the ground for mercy. I have none.
But, of course, if I had all the things he does, I would just be peachy, huh? Damn right I would. But NO. Girls don't like me. I'm the "emo" creep, who writes poems about suicide and murder. No one wants to hold the hand that is so close to the wrists that they say I cut! Fuck them all. Fuck everyone at this school. There was only one girl who I even remotely found pleasant. I remember her so well. It is almost like she scribed her name across my heart with a dagger. I can feel it.
Her name was Amber Elizabeth. She was the only ray of light in my storm. That fucking John Derry is the biggest storm cloud. The cloud firing lighting bolts at me. The cloud that no one else can see is a GODDAMN STORM CLOUD!
But Amber was different. She cared, at least for a little while. She once told me that she could stare for a million years into my eyes and stay lost in them…if only I pushed my bangs to the side, of course. She'd always send texts with hearts and tell me she loved me every day. She's dead to me now. She may not be actually dead, but she left me for bigger and better things. Like the captain of the football team. Literally BIGGER things.
I swear to God, if it is the last thing I ever do, I will have this fucker Derry killed. And I know just the freak to do the job.