Author's Note: :)

Day Two-Hundred Twenty-Four: Bad Kidz by Marina and the Diamonds

Fucking Spencer Hastings.

Once upon a long time ago, Spencer and I were friends. We even dated. I kissed this girl and she swore that she loved me. Before you ask, she was of a perfectly sane mind. She still had all her smarts from all her fancy AP classes and all her honor societies. I'm not sure I was in perfectly good mental health, but I'm certain she was.

Anyway, we'd made a promise to each other, like two little kids pinky-promising to keep each other's secret. We promised each other that we were never going to act fake and phony like so many we knew did. We would be fine on our own, dismissing the ridicule of anyone with a pompous, arrogant air to them. They didn't deserve the time of day, especially not from us. In a way, we were sort of like little kids making a pinky-promise; in our world, we ruled the world. We were the "bad kids," too high up for anyone to come near us; we were untouchable. We didn't need praise. We didn't need adoration. We didn't need anything from anybody.

But Spencer changed. She wasn't the same girl I knew. She became…weak. I don't know what changed in her over the summer. She acted like I didn't exist. She craved praise from Alison DiLaurentis and all her lackeys. She just wasn't the same. She became just as phony as all the rest. To think I respected and even esteemed this girl. I remembered times when she could've given me something and I'd hang onto it for forever. I could scoff at that now. Perhaps now, I'd fall into her little traps just for her amusement, and in turn for my own amusement. Watching simpletons try to outdo others like they're better is my idea of amusement. I played along and acted weaker than them for my own amusement. The best part of it all was that they were so simpleminded (Spencer included) that they didn't even realize how amusing it was. The only unfortunate thing was that she continued to try and break me—and others like me and not like her and all her new "friends—down.

That year, I had to take an arts class. I hadn't realized it, but I was still lacking an arts credit on my transcript and I needed it to graduate. I decided to take a music theory and composition class. It sounded like a good idea at the time. It sounded even better when there were only about seven kids in the class.

But unfortunately, Spencer was also in my class.

She was so hard to figure out. The class comprised of me, her, four juniors, and one other senior who'd been in our class for ages but kept mostly to herself. When she was in this class, she acted totally normal; she had nobody to impress around. It was like the absence of her friends meant the absence of her futility. She shed her phony skin and sort of became Spencer again (though it seemed that she had realized I didn't want to talk to her anymore and we didn't speak, which was unlike the old Spencer).

One day when like three of the kids were absent from school (we didn't know how the three managed to be absent on the exact same day—probably something with the stomach flu), the teacher had us work in pairs to analyze songs we'd written. Of course, she partnered me with Spencer.

I didn't know whether to dread it or enjoy the song she'd present. On one hand, I hated being around her. I absolutely hated it. There were too many bitter, somewhat-painful memories associated with her. Of course, Spencer had to present hers first—because Spencer always had to do stuff like that. My only surprise was that it wasn't half bad at all. It was actually a very good song and one I'd probably listen do a lot if I were into that sort of music. Her voice was even better; I never really knew she could sing like that.

Fancy that: Spencer Hastings as a singer. Her parents would have a nervous conniption before that would ever happen. They'd ever support her. Then again, they were obligated to love her, even if she chose a profession as inopportune as an entertainer.

Spencer didn't have the skin for that, either.

Our teacher told us we had to listen to the song and analyze it musically. But I really had nothing bad to say.

One day, when this song is famous and loved by thousands of people from all over, I can say that I was the first to ever hear it.

No, what was I saying?! I wasn't fond of her! I wasn't rooting for her success! Not really…not after all that I felt she'd done to me. She used me as her scapegoat for everything and she hurt me. I was always in the imperfection in her book; I was the poison on her lips, the snag in her sweater. She was always the victim; she was the mouse and I, the cat.

Spencer sat, like she was waiting for me to say something. I really had nothing to say to her. Not about the song, at least. I had a lot to say completely unrelated to the song.

I would've done so much for her…too much, even. What did I do to her or do to disappoint her? She had to have been extremely disappointed or annoyed with me to betray me like that…

It seemed as though everything I ever did with her and all the time I spent with her meant nothing. Was that all she saw it as: nothing? That would make her a horrible, wicked, spiteful, fucked-up person.

She was always going to be special to me.

The air stayed still and silent between us; she didn't say anything, either. She just started writing something in her notebook. It was last period, so I just fiddled with some things in my backpack until the teacher would dismiss us. I was used to being this lonely so this felt more routine than anything else.

A few minutes before dismissal, the teacher let us go. Quickly, Spencer ripped out the sheet of paper she was writing on and hastened out the classroom door.

I looked down. A note. Spencer had written me a note. I don't recall all the details, really. What I recall was that she wanted forgiveness. She acknowledged some of her wrongdoings and asked for my compassion, or at least that I allow bygones to be bygones. She didn't mean to push me away and apologized for being "insensitive" (as she put it). It was a grotesque understatement in my opinion but it was progress.

He who forgives is divine. I'd always been told that by my mother.

She went on to say that I'd broken her heart.

Dear Spencer…she was so ignorant (as naïveté just was not a fitting word). I'd come to accept several things about her that would never change, but this was not amongst them. She failed to realized—and still continues to fail to realize—that it was her, and not me, that broke her heart not-so long ago. I could be her scapegoat for so many things, but she had to eventually understand this.

AL3110: Aww that's so cute. You're so cute. Happy birthday. Love you :)

Yes, so this was for Al's birthday. Tomorrow, ironically (I swear to God, I did not see the irony in this until just now), the one-shot will be based off of Birthday by Rachael Sage. WEIRD. -Kayson