"Okay, that's only four," Taylor said.
"Okay, I'm sorry," Chad said. "That's five." Taylor folded up the piece of paper and put it in her pocket.
"Nice try, Chad," she said. "It's not working."
"C'mon Tay, I'm sorry. I really, really am. Can't we at least going back to being friends?"
"I'll think about it," Taylor said. She walked a few feet down the hall. "Okay, I'm done thinking."
"What's the answer?" Chad asked.
"Reply Hazy. Ask Again Later," Taylor said.
"Add 'You're Sarcastic' to the list!" Chad called after her. Taylor just kept on walking. Chad walked to his English class. They were assigned to write a poem about something that inspired them.
The Seven Things I Like About You
Chad was empty. His list had nothing on it. He could think of plenty of things, but none of them rhymed. He liked her sense of humor and the way that she looked when she couldn't figure out a difficult math problem. He liked the way she twirled her hair when she was spacing out in class, and the way she'd do things that were completely pointless or out of her way just to make Chad happy. Most of all, he liked the way they could always make each other laugh, even through the toughest of times.
Taylor was sitting behind him and tapped on his shoulder. He turned around to face her. She didn't say a word, but handed him a piece of paper.
I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme.
I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call.
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
(Katarina Stratford -- 10 Things I Hate About You)
"You stole this from a movie," Chad whispered to her. She shrugged.
"It's not for the assignment," she said.
"Okay," the teacher announced. "Have your poems done by tomorrow. You'll be reading them in front of the class." The bell rang, but Chad just turned back to talk to Taylor.
"And I don't even wear combat boots," he argued.
"I didn't write it!" Taylor said. "It's from a movie. Thought I'd inspire you."
