Anessa

Anessa took out a black Sharpie and wrote on the locker room mirror: ANESSA HATES YOU.  This was not written to anyone in particular.  It was dedicated to everyone, anyone who would read it.  Under the scrawl, she glared at herself in the mirror.  Anessa was a moody girl who lived each day as if her blood was full of irritating things - spit, salt, vinegar, rusty nails - and it showed.  Her cheeks were covered with the first crop of pimples of her 12 year old life.  They were filled with white pus and without a mother, a sister, an interest in fashion magazines, or a single female friend, she had no idea she was supposed to do something about it.  Her one saving grace was basketball.  Hated or not, she was the hero of every game, the eagle soaring through the air, the ballerina, the goddess, the swan.  However, because of the pimples, the rest of the 7th grade girls team and even some of the boys' team had started calling her Cheesy Cheeks behind her back.   About fifteen minutes ago, she found out about it and this is why Anessa hates you.