Unfinished Business

Abby is the kind of girl who keeps to herself. This year, her senior year, everything changes, when her worst enemy, Nicole, decides to play with her old tricks again. Abby has shut that part out of her life completely. Or so she thought. Do you think she has what it takes to make it out alive in time to graduate? Or will she crumble? just like the last time it all happened.

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1. Prologue (Abby)

There she is. Nicole. She walks these very halls with everyone wrapped around her vastly expensive, manicured finger. She wears a size zero and everything she owns costs more than all the contents of my home added together.
And then there is me, Abby. I sit in the back of all the classrooms and am alone at lunch. Sometimes I wish that I could go back in time and change things, but by doing so I wouldn’t be who I am today. I have to say that I am proud of whom I am now and I do not want to change that just for a bit of attention. I used to be like that. I used to be like that witch over there who is currently staring at me with evil in her eyes, but past events have changed that and how I feel about life. My life. Since the incident, I have been scared to let people in, but that is also who I am now, and is another scar that she has embedded in my heart.
I stand by my tiny, beige locker when she walks by me with that same evil look in her eyes, staring me down. I have seen this look many times so I think I have got it down that she completely hates me. I never found out the “why” part in that scenario. She never actually told me. It’s like she just woke up one day and decided to pick on me the rest of her high school career. I mean, after all that we have been through? Seriously?
I turn to face my locker, avoiding Nicole’s gaze that burns into my skull and focus on opening my locker.
“I wouldn’t open that if I were you,” says a girl at the locker next to mine.
“Hmm…” I say in a questioning tone, wondering if she is talking to me or someone else, and I can tell that she is by the strong look she gives me, “Have we met?” I ask.
“Oh, sorry, today is my first day here. I’m Casey.” She looks down at her hands and notices that she is holding all the contents of her locker and stuffs them back in so she can give me an appropriate handshake. I observe her appearance while she situates herself. The first thing I notice is the pair of stylish glasses perched on her nose that helped frame her tanned face along with her extra curly dirty blonde hair that also compliments her tanned skin. After a couple of minutes she finally reaches out to shake my hand and I accept it.
“Cool. I’m Abby and…Why should I not open my locker?”
I look over at Nicole and her band of friends to find them whispering and giggling very loudly. She doesn’t care that she’s a jerk and she doesn’t care if she is the one who is persistently making my life miserable, just as long as it is her that gets to do it. It makes me sick. I shake the thought away and try to focus on Casey now.
“When I was walking up to my locker I saw them,” She points over at Nicole and her friends in an obvious way and she looks back at us with a look of disgust, “at your locker doing something and it Looked like they were putting something in it.” She faces back to her locker to situate everything in a n organized fashion for the rest of the year.
“Oh?” She nods. “Well, thanks for telling me, I guess.” We smile slightly at each other and she goes back to fixing everything in her locker some more. Once she told me there was something wrong with my locker I realized that it was very obvious. I can feel that she is looking at me as if I am doing something weird and it is probably because I am just standing in front of my locker not doing anything.
“Well, you have to open your locker sometime? What’re you going to do?” she asked, nonchalant. This has happened many times before and I am now used to it. I walk over to the big rolling trash can and drag it under my locker. I put in my combination, stand aside and open my locker.
All I see are used tissues that continuously pour out of my locker, oblivious to its size and shape. I hear the bottom of her six inch heels stomp up behind me; she is alone and impatient. I turn around swift, but unconcerned to the close face of Nicole that says, “I haven’t finished with you yet.” I answer back with my “I don’t care what you do anymore” look.
“I wish you had these on that awesome day that we spent together. Wiping up all you liquefied eye make-up was just a pain in the ***; and it chipped my Mani. Don’t ask me where those tissues came from, but just know that this is not the last of me. I just thought that you should know that. I want to haunt you. I want to be in you nightmare. When you close your eyes, I want you to see me.” She is insulting me right now and the only thing going through my mind is how stumpy she looks in heels. She turns to walk away followed by me muttering, “*****” under my breath but just loud enough for her to hear. I could tell it bugged her by that first hesitant step she took towards her groupies.
By now, I find it old and unoriginal but Nicole still finds it amusing. She has been playing these tricks for almost two years now and she still won’t give it up. However, I have given up. She’s got plenty more where that came from, I can tell, and I’m a tad worried to find out what they are.

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