Not only was she beautiful, she was smart, too. She was the top of the junior class. Brains and beauty—though I’d never tell her so. For all she knew, my thoughts of her were completely filled with disgust and loathing, but sometimes, I’d watch her when she wasn’t looking. Sometimes, I’d listen to her laugh with her girlfriends. I’d study the way she studied people like they were art and she was trying to figure out how they’d been created. She was always jotting things down in notebooks, too, like her life depended on the words on those pages.
