Annie hated me. She might still hate me. I really don’t know, and I really shouldn’t care. I probably won’t ever see her again, but I can’t let it go.

She was my neighbor for years. She lived right across the street from me. I think we were friends in the beginning. The very beginning: I remember going over to her house to play with her American Girl doll.

I don’t know when she changed her mind about me, but things changed, and she and her mom started acting rude to me and to my family. It was as if they thought they were better than us, and couldn’t waste their time on us.

Katy told me she didn’t like me because I was “complicated,” “confusing,” and “always trying to get attention.” I should be able to let it go, but I can’t.

When there weren’t any seats left and I had to sit by her to take a test, she groaned. Loud enough for anyone to hear it.

I had to sit by her in Advanced Algebra class (it was assigned seating) for awhile, too. In a way I’m glad I did, because I know she didn’t like it. She must have suffered. Ha ha.

I guess she was rude to everyone, and when she transferred to East Lincoln High (to become a cheerleader) people freely said that it was hard for even her friends to like her because she was so mean. I overheard Justin say, “How could anyone not like Sara? She’s one of the nicest people in the world.” That made my day.

So, why does it still hurt?