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-SHE BURNS LIKE THE SUN-
Summary: Kate hates to sleep and loves to lie. Nate is blunt, gorgeous, and overly critical. She's his sister's best friend, and he's used to getting what he wants. It takes a flying tampon to get them to realize they hate each other, and subsequently want to shag.
Chapter One: The Airborne Tampon
The biggest thing Kate Hankins remembered from Elementary School was a single unforgettable fact, and it was that her first name rhymed with Nate Lawson’s. They were in the same third grade class, and everyone thought the coincidence was so funny, it became a tirelessly clichéd joke. It was everyone’s sincere belief that Kate and Nate must be “going out.” Such was the natural way of things to the mind of an eight-year-old: despite other people having names that rhymed, Kate was a girl, and Nate was a boy, and boys and girls love each other, right? And so they had to be boyfriend and girlfriend.
Back in the days when it was shameful to have a girlfriend, Nate Lawson could not have been more embarrassed. Just to prove he didn’t like Kate, he’d push her on the pavement during recess and made fun of her whenever he could. Kate was only embarrassed because she did have a small crush on him, and when he pushed her on the ground, she figured it was because he secretly liked her, too. The joke stayed with them up until middle school, when Nate started getting girlfriends and Kate befriended his sister, Hilary.
High school came along with its drama, and the once over-used joke faded from the minds of everyone, save the two with whom it concerned. She had become rebellious, angry, cynical, and was a self-proclaimed “mess.” He was the rising star of the theatre department, funny, incredibly straightforward, but undeniably charismatic.
They both became legends at Hilldale High.
One Monday, Nate opened his locker and found a post-it note stuck to the side. “I’m sorry Nate, it’s not working for me, please don’t hate me, I still want to be friends.” It was, of course, in Pamela White’s handwriting. They’d been together a week, and bam – she drops the “let’s be friends” line.
And with a post-it note.
He didn’t feel anything, really. Pamela is a slut, he reasoned, and she’s probably fucking some other guy right now because I hate chick flicks. A few days back, she wanted to drag him to see one of those horrendously predictable estrogen-driven feel-good movies, and he said he’d rather gouge his eyes out with a spork. It would have been okay if it had at least been a comedy, but he was worn out of seeing the same plots appearing everywhere, the same situations, the same breathless heroines and flawed heroes. He had to make a stand. Nate could not tolerate much repetition anyway, and he was seeing enough of it in the girls he dated. The situation humored him for a moment, and then he discarded it from his mind with sarcasm.
It probably didn’t help that he was becoming a pessimist.
“Nate.” He turned at the sound.
A girl nearby nodded at him slightly in acknowledgment.
He raised his brows, as if to say, “What’s up?”
She shrugged.
He tilted his head a bit to the left in a “Yeah, well, that’s life,” sort of way.
Kate Hankins, also having a rough morning, observed the scene under the pretense of reading the bulletin board next to Nate’s head. She was leaning on her own locker down the hall with her arms crossed in a very habitual fashion.
Apparently the language of Cool has evolved this morning, she snidely thought to herself. Thank God I don’t like him anymore. He’s such a prick.
The aforementioned prick began to walk in her direction.
Kate nudged Hilary, who was caught up in making out with her boyfriend, Jon. Her friend tore her lips off him and looked around to see Nate walking their way. Hilary happened to be made of a rare and elusive fiber; the girl had never been afraid to embarrass herself in public, and had no real limit. Drama was her forte. Once in a while, Hilary really outdid herself. There were times she craved attention more than others, and her needs sometimes demanded she make a scene.
She turned back to Kate, and smiled mischievously. “It’s time.” She took a deep breath, and let out a strange, unearthly shriek that resounded through the hall.
Silence enveloped them like a fog. All eyes turned to Kate and Hilary, the former turning a deep shade of crimson. Sometimes so many people craning their necks to watch them shocked her.
Jaw dropping slowly and dramatically, Hilary made a big show of contorting her face and rolling her eyes up to the back of her head and shaking uncontrollably; just for effect (and right on cue, as he’d just walked up to them), she clutched her neck and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. She then motioned to Kate, whose part was next.
The silence was still solid and she entered her role with a fresh sense of enthusiasm.
“Dear God,” Kate began with a breathless intensity, drawing the focus on her. She paused for a moment and moved her attention to her (surely soon to be award-winning) friend by continuing, “Is it the dreaded Lawson Effect?!” Turning to students passing in the hall, she yelled, “Back off, this shithole’s contaminated!”
Nate appeared in front of them, impassive. Addressing his sibling and ignoring her friend, he said, “Wonderful performance, Hil. When can I see the death scene?”
Hilary (who had finished by this time and was red in the face from her exertions), smiled widely at her brother. “Nate-Nate, are we PMS-ing? Need a tampon for later? Remember last month: I told you all you had to do was ask.”
There was a ritualistic roll of the eyes. “Charming.” He turned and acknowledged Kate’s existence. “Hankins,” he said indifferently, and began to walk away – they’d been acquainted ten years and were never on a first-name basis.
“Fuck you,” she said, successfully pulling off his same general indifference, though they both knew there was a lot of resentment underneath it. Sometimes they ignored each other, sometimes he’d flip her off, sometimes she’d glare nonstop, but such things as “fuck you” were rather rare in their relationship. He had started a rumor about her three weeks beforehand, and she was letting him know she knew it, too.
Stopping, he leaned forward in an almost-confidential manner. “Maybe you’d better take advantage of Hilary’s excessive tampon supply. Or perhaps just Midol?”
Kate crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side. “Maybe you’d better work on that biting wit before you embarrass yourself.”
“I have never embarrassed myself.”
“Well, then, when you don’t expect it – expect it.”
“Go see a therapist, Hankins, because I don’t have the time to analyze the bullshit coming from that gaping hole in your face.” Nate turned on his heel and began to walk off for the second time, satisfied with getting the last word.
Unbeknownst to him, Kate’s lip curved into an alarmingly sweet smile, with an almost undetectable hint of anger burning in her eyes. With a haughty toss of her auburn hair, she turned to Hilary, the unfortunate sister of The Unmentionable. “So? How’s life?”
Jon moved in to talk immediately, but Hilary held him at a distance with a single wave of her hand. “What are you going to do?” she asked Kate, whose features remained stony, save her eyes. Only Hilary could ever notice the chaotic activity going on inside her head, and she didn’t even know how. “Kate?” She waved her other hand in front of her friend’s face.
“Give me a tampon,” was the quiet reply.
“What?”
“A tampon! Give me a tampon!”
“Okay, okay!” Somewhat alarmed, Hilary shoved her hand inside her backpack and pulled out a tampon, handing it to Kate, who grabbed it and tore off the wrapping. Without another word, Kate ran down the hallway and out of sight. Sensing danger, Hilary and Jon raced after her, followed by curious looks of students around them.
Upon entering the C-Hall, your average high school student would notice the following:
1.) Nate Lawson was sauntering down the hall in his normal fashion, followed by more than thirty pairs of eyes.
2.) Kate Hankins flashed around the corner holding something small and white in her right hand.
3.) Hilary Lawson and Jon Holland were running wildly after Kate, both looking very alert and slightly scared.
4.) Mr. Matheson, school principal, was standing in the Biology classroom doorway, talking to a teacher animatedly.
5.) A bunch of freshman girls were gathered near the fire exit.
Unaware of the presence of the principal, Kate loudly yelled into the already noisy hall –
“LAWSON!”
And then, for the second time in ten minutes, noise dropped into silence around Kate, Hilary, Jon, and Nate; the latter turned his head slightly to see who was calling him.
Witnesses would describe what happened next as a moment when time seemed to slow down to an eighth its normal speed. Nobody moved, and most forgot to breathe. Everyone noticed at the same moment something cylindrical, small, and white shoot out of Kate Hankins’s hand. The tampon was airborne. It arched into the air smoothly, increasing its distance from the hand that threw it, and rocketed down towards Nate Lawson’s forehead. The scene lasted half a second, maybe, and surprise had barely any time to register on his face before the object connected with the victim. There was hardly even a plop!, or any sound to further indicate the connection of tampon and forehead.
Doubtless, people had probably forgotten that Kate was once a pitcher in softball. The girl had aim and a good arm, to boot.
Silence.
Suddenly, there were several peals of laughter, and the girls gathered near the fire exit shoved their hands into their purses and pulled out pads and tampons. Nate, who stood there unsure of what just happened, felt a wave of harsh reality hit him the same time the sanitary supplies did. In a scene eerily similar to Carrie by Stephen King, he realized what he was being pelted with, and who started it. He raised his right arm to shield his head from the shower of debris and locked eyes with Kate Hankins, who was by no means affected in the slightest.
There came an “Oh, my GOD!” from Hilary, and Nate Lawson began to run full speed at Kate, who stood there stupidly, her turn to lose sense of reality. He jumped at her, despite the frantic screams of Hilary, the insane laughter of Jon, the annoying rain of tampons admiringly bestowed upon him by the freshman girls, and the loud roar of Mr. Matheson (who had, by this time, become fully aware of said situation). Kate was knocked to the floor by him, landing with a thud, and pressed like a sandwich between his body and the tile of the crowded C-Hall. Noise erupted all around them – even more than before – and sometime during all of this, Kate attempted to press her fingers into his eyes and Nate tried to rip out her hair.
“You fucking bitch, you fucking bitch!”
“You’re a goddamn piece of waste, Lawson, you son of a bitch!”
“DETENTION! DETENTION!”
“Jon, do something, call 911, or…”
And then Nate crushed his lips onto Kate’s, molding them again and again over hers while she surprised even herself by hungrily kissing him back. They seemed still at war. His fingers no longer tangled in her tresses, he held both sides of her head with his hands, and then angrily slammed her skull into the tile beneath them; she opened her mouth further to gasp in pain, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth. She moved her fingers from his face to his hair, moaning into his mouth as he moved his tongue with hers and he pressed himself more firmly against her.
Their flaming burst of passion was snuffed, however, as the bell rang loudly overhead and a scowling principal grabbed Nate by the collar, pulling him off Kate. As their lips tore apart, their eyes locked in a mutual, hateful glare.
Mr. Matheson, who was severely red in the face and also seemingly bewildered, managed to yell, “DETENTION – MY OFFICE – CALLING PARENTS – ONE MONTH – OFF FLOOR.”
Everyone scrambled to their classrooms.
-RayChull