Valentine's Day- Seventh Grade

Allison was wrong. Stiles Stilinski didn't stop picking on me. A year had passed and he still picked on me. It seemed to me that out of all the girls in our grade, he made it a point to pay special attention to me. Special attention meaning that the wad of paper he first threw at me on her first day of school escalated to throwing pencils spitballs and Kool- aid at her during lunch.

"You told me it would stop," I complained to Allison as we headed to the cafeteria, with me being fully prepared to receive my daily dose of that icky reddish liquid all over her dark purple blouse. I've learned that the best way to get through the day with a liquid-stained shirt was to wear dark tones, for it will be less noticeable. So I was fully prepared that day by wearing a dark hue.

"I know. I'm sorry. He usually does. Maybe until we get a new girl next year." Allison glanced at me, finally noticing her color choice, "You could've worn red today."

"Didn't feel like it," I responded as I took notice of everyone else dressed in the pink, white, and red colors that symbolized that most hated holiday in my mind.

It wasn't that I hated the notion, per se, but that it was such a popularity contest. Only the really popular and pretty girls got a valentine from a boy. On the outside, I made a point to Allison that Valentine's Day for me meant showing my friends how much I cared about them. But on the inside, I wanted more than anything to be noticed by a boy, especially Jackson Whitmore. I've liked him for a few weeks now- his flashing smile, blue eyes, and funny personality. The only person I told was Allison, who, instead of laughing at me over it, thought it was sweet and didn't blame me for finding him attractive. But the only problem was that he was close friends with Stiles. Jackson never made fun of me on his own, but when he was with his buddy, he had a tendency to laugh hysterically at the various name-calling Stiles directed at me.

"I have a valentine card for you," Allison said cheerily, reaching into her pink Jansport backpack to pull out a small Peanuts- themed card with sweethearts scotch-taped on the side, "I hope you like it."

"You didn't have to." I smiled as I read the note, "A Valentine's Day just for you!" with Snoopy dancing around a bunch of flowers. Very cute. Very Allison.

"Hey, Smells!"

I grimaced, prepared to meet my death. I quickly stuffed Allison's card into my green backpack. For at this point I couldn't bear for the only valentine I'd probably be getting this year to be dripping in Kool- aid by the end of the day.

Stiles noticed my action. "Aw, Little Ugly Duckling got a valentine!" He glanced at Allison, "Well, of course it's from her retarded friend. Are you two gonna make out or something?"

Allison scowled at the brown-haired demon, "No, but I wouldn't be surprised if you and Jackson did."

I looked at my friend in shock. Boy was she going to get it. Now we'd both be dripping in Kool-Aid.

Stiles looked at me, and then returned his gaze to my bold companion. "I'm not gay."

"You are too," Allison retorted, taking two steps toward Stiles. Her eyes flashing, as if to challenge him, "You two are the only boys who haven't asked a girl to be their valentine."

Both I and Stiles noted our fellow seventh graders, surprised to find that almost every girl had a valentine card with some kind of rose attached to it. We both knew that no same-sex friend would even think of sending their pals a rose.

"Nuh, uh. Not true. Scott doesn't have a valentine," Stiles pointed out, looking triumphant.

Allison lips spread into a knowing smile. "Yeah, he does. Me."

"No way." Stiles was shocked, perplexed, and dumbfounded. Scott McCall, one of his good friends, who occasionally joined in tormenting the two girls, asked out the retarded chick? It was too much to handle.

Even I looked at Allison in shock. How come she never told me? The whole day she made me believe that, like me, she didn't have a valentine. Now I felt more alone than ever before. It seemed, as I looked at all my fellow female classmates around me, each whispering to each other over the various candy assortments they received from their admirers, or the teddy bears a few of them held closely to their chests, that I was the only one in the entire school who didn't have a valentine.

"It's true," Allison reiterated, taking out a rather large cut- out red cardboard rose from her backpack, waving it in front of Stiles' face, taunting him, "He told me he likes me and that he never really wanted to make fun of me. So there! In your face!" To drive her triumph further home, she stuck out her tongue at him.

"He's so dead, "Stiles muttered under his breath, clenching his fists, "Traitor."

"So you and Jackson are the only ones," Allison pointed out again, obviously enjoying getting her revenge, "Well, you because no girl likes you."

Stiles glanced at me. "I don't need a girl to like me. And no one likes Jackson either."

"Someone does," Allison said in a sing-song voice.

My cheeks began to flush, heat spreading all over my body. I was afraid, deadly afraid. Allison was going to tell my secret, and to Stiles Stilinski of all people. I automatically grabbed my friend's arm, and at the feel of my touch, Alice shook her head, as if clearing her thoughts.

"Who?" Stiles asked.

"No one. Forget it."

"No, you said someone likes him and no I gotta know who." Stiles moved closer to the us, as if preparing to stop us if we try to get past him.

"Forget it. I don't wanna say." Allison tried pushing Stiles aside, but considering the boy was enormous in size for a twelve-year old, it was a useless attempt.

"No, it's my business to know."

"How's it your business?"

"Cause he's my best friend," he then grinned, "And I gotta know if she's hot enough to go out with him."

"I won't tell."

"Tell me or I'll take your lunch." Stiles eyed her Strawberry Shortcake lunchbox, his mouth watering at the surprise contents inside. The last time he stole Allison Argent's lunch was in the fourth grade, and he soon found out that her Mom made the most delicious homemade chocolate chip cookies ever. And he now couldn't wait to feel the moistness and richness of them on his tongue.

Allison seemed to falter, for she remembered starving to death that afternoon, watching Stiles devour her cookies, and him doing it right in front of her. She kept switching her focus from the quivering Sarah to her delicious lunch made with love from Mom. Hunger. Friendship. Hunger. Friendship.

"Sarah likes him," Allison blurted out. She immediately looked at me, mouthing the words "I'm sorry", her eyes boring into mine, silently pleading me to understand.

Stiles gazed at me. His look could only be described as one of shock. But there was something along the lines of hurt appearing briefly in his dark eyes, only to be replaced by loud laughter.

"Eww. Smells likes Jackson? Jackson would never ask you out. You dork."

A sudden rage began to boil within my chest. I could deal with this jerk calling me 'Smells' but I wouldn't stand for myself to be put down by him in saying Jackson was too cute for me. I'm not ugly. At least, that's what Allison was trying to tell me for the past year.

"Shut up," I gritted through my teeth.

"What?" Stiles glanced at me speculatively, shock evident on his face.

"I said shut up!" I took a step closer to me tormentor, and my heart accelerated just by the fact that I was a foot shorter than he was. His height was enough to intimidate even ninth graders, but I wouldn't back down, "No one likes you. You're the one who's too ugly to have a valentine and you're just jealous because I can probably have one and you can't."

Instead of being outraged at this extravagant claim, Stiles merely smiled. "I'm jealous of you? Don't be stupid." He lowered his shoulders in order to be at eye level with her, his light brown eyes boring into my chocolate brown ones. I felt as if he was looking into my soul. I had never been more vulnerable in my entire life. It was like the infamous dream where one is running around the halls of their school naked. For that's what it felt like, like Stile Stilinski was secretly laughing at me because of a joke only he knew about.

"I'm gonna tell him you like him. And he'll just laugh at you. You'll see," Stiles breathed, an evil grin spreading across his face, "He'll laugh at you and then no one will be your valentine."

My mouth hung open, more for the fact that Stiles could be so cruel more than anything else. What was it about my that made him hate me so much? If I liked his friend, so what? Was he that bitter about not having a stupid valentine that he had to set his mind on ruining mine?

"I hate you," I whispered, meaning every word I said.

He chuckled, licking his lips. "You don't believe me…but just watch."

He then sauntered over to the far side of the cafeteria, where Scott and Jackson were flinging meatballs at unsuspecting fourth graders. Stiles immediately poked Jackson in the ribs, getting his attention. He only scowled for a few seconds, for his best friend immediately whispered something in his ear, breaking into fits of laughter as he pointed at my reddened, hurt face. Jackson followed Stiles' gaze in wonder, wrinkled his nose in disgust at me, and made kissing noises at me, causing the three of them to laugh uncontrollably. But once Scott noticed us watching us with pure hatred in our eyes, he immediately looked sheepish and stopped laughing along with his buddies, suddenly hovering over his half-eaten plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

"Sarah, I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad at me," Allison whispered, not able to meet my still hurt gaze.

"Why did you do that?' I questioned, my eyes watering with the sad realization that the boy I harbored such intense feelings for thought I was as much of a loser as my worst enemy did.

"It- It was stupid," Allison stammered, now completely ashamed at choosing her lunch over my feelings, "I didn't mean to. He pissed me off so much. You know how it is. I just kept thinking about that time he stole my lunch and I was so hungry- I promise I'll never do that again. Please still be my bosom buddy, please?" Allison was desperate now. She knew she couldn't possibly have a good valentine's day if I was mad at her, not mattering that Scott McCall asked her to be his valentine.

"No," I hissed, anger immediately replacing my hurt, "You told that idiot that I liked Jackson. You embarrassed me just so you could eat your stupid cookies. I'm never gonna be your friend again. I hate you, I hate Stiles Stilinski, and I hate Valentine's Day!"

And with that, I headed to the bathroom, where I would eat my lunch in one of the stalls, and wallow in my own self- pity.