Everyone has that person, right? That person who you just can’t stand. That person who you wouldn’t lend a hand to, even if someone was threatening to e-mail all of your friends and family pictures of you from last year’s Christmas party when you were drunk and modeling your girlfriend’s bikini. That person who you adamantly admit to hating. Your mother would probably tell you that “hate” is a strong word, but for that person, a strong word is needed. Hatred, abhorrence, loathing, odium, detestation, contempt, extreme dislike.

Everyone has that person. For me, that person goes by the name of Jayden, though on most occasions the proper noun isn’t needed. In my mind, Jayden is just a worthless, two- to three-letter pronoun (i.e. he or him), or when I’m feeling more loquacious, Jayden is The Bane of My Existence, The Thorn in My Side, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—what? I can’t use that last one? What copyright? Okay, fine. Regardless, I’m sure you get the point.

When did this thing with him start? Well let’s see, it could probably be traced back to elementary school. He used to bully me all the time. He would stick gum in my hair, push me off the swings, steal my juice box during lunch, push me into the dirt, tease me about my looking like a girl (when, in actuality, he looked more girly than me, and still does!). But the teachers loved him because he was smart. He was a friggin’ genius. Always did his homework, participated in class, got perfect test scores, etcetera, etcetera.

And then we graduated into middle school. Oh, what a fun three years that was! (No, it was not fun, I am being sarcastic; I use sarcasm quite a lot, so get used to it.) So. Middle school. Junior high. Whatever you feel the need to call it. I prefer The Gateway to Hell, but that’s just me. He was still a genius, and getting smarter. And now came the added bonus of teenage hormones, meaning the girls were all over him. Not only was he a genius, but he was a gorgeous genius. When I said that he looked more girly than me (and still does) I was not understating. He has the beautiful blue eyes, the smooth black hair, the carved-by-angels face, the perfect body—oh, hold on, getting ahead of myself. The body didn’t come in until high school. Nevertheless, he was still gorgeous. Or maybe “adorable” is a better word, because calling a sixth-grader “gorgeous” just sounds awkward.

As I was saying, the girls were all over him. They started a Jayden Fan Club, those girls did. Now tell me that isn’t ridiculous! Who in their right mind would want to start a friggin’ fan club for that asshole? Yes, he was upgraded from “jerk” to “asshole” with the grade school graduation (you know, the new vocabulary comes with the whole preteen package; through the years, said vocabulary would grow to be quite colorful). He was still horrible to me, and his bite began to sink a lot deeper because the one girl in the entire student population that I was crushing on just so happened to be the Vice President of his fan club. And he never passed up the opportunity to rub it in my face.

Really, I never did understand the basis of the JFC (that’s Jayden Fan Club, for those of you who might be a little low on caffeine right now). He was a total apathetic, self-centered, doesn’t-care-about-anyone-but-himself bastard. And he still is, dammit! Some might call me privileged, that he goes out of his way on a daily basis to pay me a little attention, but those select some would be his love-sick, Jayden-crazed groupies. I would probably be much happier without him on my case twenty-four/seven. He’s perfected his bullying to an art form, the Art of Torturing Noah. I tend to be a pretty easygoing guy, but he knows just what to say, just what to do, to get under my skin. And he enjoys it, does he ever enjoy it!

I think the one person who keeps me from completely snapping around him is Autumn. Remember that girl, that one girl in the entire student population that I was crushing on, who just so happened to be the Vice President of his fan club? Yes, well, she is currently my girlfriend of one (going on two) years. In eighth grade, she finally garnered the courage to ask Jayden on a date, and what did the selfish bastard do? Turned her down. And not very gently, either. No apologies, no glimmer of remorse or regret or heart (I’m quite convinced that he sold his heart to science, or was abducted by aliens and had it surgically removed, or maybe was just born without one—yeah, that’s probably it). And so, I was there when Autumn fled the cafeteria in tears, and sixth months later, I asked her on a date, and now we’re a couple. She’s the water to Jayden’s fire in my life. She knows just what to say, just what to do, to make me forget about him.

So, high school rolled around. My life has been going pretty good. He’s still here (I don’t think I’ll be getting rid of him anytime soon), but so is Autumn, and therefore, everything is pretty good. His fan club is still existing and growing, new victims getting sucked into the vacuum, getting infected with the JOD (Jayden Obsession Disease). He still hates them all, is still an arrogant prick, and yet they still love him because he is still gorgeous. Now I don’t feel awkward mentioning his body. He’s not particularly strong, not a muscle-headed jock, I don’t think he’s even ever visited the weight room (I doubt he even knows where it is, but then again, he seems to know everything, so I’m probably wrong). And yet he has a great body, thin but not lanky, and just a little effeminate, with bare traces of muscle all over.

Um…you’re probably wondering how I know this. I’m not a stalker, or anything—and even if I was a stalker, he is the last person I’d ever stalk! Please, I’m not gay, or even bisexual. It just so happens that Jayden is on the swim team. Ergo, his physique is practically common knowledge. I’m sure there are pictures of him from the yearbook in his swimming uniform (read: half-naked) plastered across the desktops of most of the girls in school, and probably some of the guys, too. It’s rather sad that everyone idolizes the asshole. Just because he’s practically the epitome of the adage “a god amongst men” doesn’t mean he’s someone to idolize. If he’s a god, then he’s an evil one, an antagonist from one of those fantasy novels about vampires and witches and knights in shining armor. He’s a deceiver, a rose that attracts you with his petals and then pricks you with his thorns. No one can get close to him. He doesn’t have a best friend or a girlfriend or—does he even have a friend, period? A sincere, genuine, true friend? No, he doesn’t let anyone get close to him. He has this whole White Witch, thousand-years-of-winter thing about his character that puts anyone within a five-foot radius of him at the risk of getting severe frostbite.

Honestly, I think I’m probably the closest thing he has to a friend, which would be an enemy. Love and hate often coincide, if you’ve never noticed. If you can’t have someone love you, isn’t the second best thing having someone hate you? It’s better than getting no acknowledgement from anyone at all. Love and hate are two of the strongest bonds humans can share. On one hand, I have Autumn, a girl whom I think I love, and if not, at least like. A lot. And on the other hand, I have Jayden, a guy whom I hate, and if not, at least dislike. A lot. I’m a pretty well-balanced guy, wouldn’t you think?

However, something has been happening lately that’s been making me question myself, tipping my perfectly balanced scale. My thoughts are just leading me in circles, twisting, twining, turning circles that make my head hurt. So, like I said, I have Autumn, my girlfriend, and Jayden, my enemy. Oh, did I mention Lyrical, my best friend? Yes, well, Lyrical is my best friend, and my roommate of one (going on two) years. He’s an amazing guy, a lot of fun, and other things that can’t really be put into words. He also gets to use the girls’ locker room for gym, due to the fact that he’s gay. The girls don’t mind, and it puts a lot of the guys at ease, freeing them from the desire to change behind the shower curtains or in the bathroom stalls. And the teachers had grown accustomed to it by the end of freshman year. Lyrical is really the only out-of-the-closet gay in our school, though it’s likely that there are many more in-the-closet gays interspersed with rest of the student body, boys and girls alike. I wish they would come out of the closet, so Lyrical wouldn’t feel so alone like he usually does. Even if there wasn’t another gay guy to be a potential boyfriend for Lyrical, he could at least start a gay pride club with a lesbian ally. But no, as it is, he’s flying solo. And though he pretends it doesn’t bother him, I know it does. I am his best friend after all; what kind of best friend would I be not to notice?

Oh, but I digressed. Back to my dilemma. Well, it’s a pretty big dilemma. It’s been throwing me off in school, messing with my piano playing (yes, I play piano, and I’m pretty damn good at it, too), and has been making my friends worry. Hell, it’s making me worry. I’m going out of my friggin’ mind. I don’t know what to do, don’t know who to talk to about it (though Lyrical has made it perfectly clear that he knows about my problem, and tries to talk to me about it, but he has this strange way of just making it worse). So for now, I'm learning to cope with it. My sanity might be lost in the process. If worse comes to worse, I’ll just have to make a solid effort to avoid Jayden at all costs. No need to remind myself of the fact that I’ve been trying to do just that since first grade.