Chapter 1 – Water Fight With The Loser

White guy thinks he’s all that

Ryan White, a loser, flat

No one messes with winner Bridget

A violet eye you’re sure to get

\:)

“Listen, chick.”

My jaw dropped.

No one who wants to live a peaceful, endearing life calls me chick.

“I know who you damn are! You’re Ryan White and you have such a big head and no one ever messes with you! So can you please give it a break? As you can see, I’m the victim. The innocent. The oppressed. And a very hospitable one for that matter because you should be thankful you’re not rotting in the graves right now for hassling me.”

I was not going to let this stop.

Call me petty but this surely is the biggest rival of my life. The worst enmity I had to face.

It all happened one Monday afternoon.

And it began like this…

\:)

“It’s Speedo, idiot!” I snickered as I made my way out of the dressing room, tugging the edges of my swimsuit. Kelly Stewart followed after me, hooting aloud.

“Skee-doh! Imagine that!” She snorted, her wavy, blond hair shaking with her as she laughed, which sent me into another fit of howling.

“Stewart! Adams! What’s with the ruckus? Ten rounds, jog!” Coach Lena, unfortunately, had six eyes, eyeglasses plus another pair on her forehead. She saw practically everything within her vicinity, and her tall disposition (as tall as I was, five foot eleven) gave her the advantage. Nevertheless, Kelly and I always believed those spectacles were used like a giant magnifying glass to monitor the whole, enormous swimming arena.

I snorted back to Kelly and threw my slippers off to the side. I waited for her as she did the same and after some time, our ten rounds were done.

“So, Bridget, want to go to the mall before anything gets dark?” She played with a lock of my straight, shoulder-length, caramel hair.

I chuckled. This usually meant ‘Want to go to the mall before the nerds get the chance to pile homework loads?’ “Sure. I always wished I could buy a new Skee-doh.”

She snorted another set of laughs while we sat on the bleacher and idly watched the other pathetic swimmers getting ready for training. I eyed the freshman who I guessed was in Bradley’s, my brother’s class, the freshman loser who wowed at my limited edition ‘Skee-doh’ swimwear.

I giggled with her at the reminder of the thought and when the other losers finished their warm-up, Coach Lena blew her annoying whistle to gather the whole team. “Sixteen laps for warm-up. I devised a new training program this summer. Anyone who dares complain will have their butts kicked out of the team.”

I caught Kelly’s glance for a moment and smirked. Same old line for the first day of school. Every year, the laps just kept adding to two.

You might be wondering how I got my first ever worst fight here like this. Anyway…

In between the training session, I met my brother who was accompanying the Skee-doh newbie loser around and patted him on the back. “What’s up?”

“Hi, Bridge.” He greeted back, smiling.

I stared at the boy beside him to signal something.

“He’s Carl. He’s new here and he tried out for the swimming team.”

I wonder how he passed for Coach Lena when he didn't even know the real spelling of Speedo.

The little boy smiled at me and I figured he must be my age. You see, I’m a junior but I’m only sixteen years old. That was because I started school earlier than common and I must have had an extraordinary brain to start with, though my birthday was early in the year, January first, to give an advantage of not being treated like a kid when everyone’s turned seventeen. So was Bradley’s, March fourteenth, my little brother, who was fifteen in his sophomore year. One very cool Adams family, huh?

Coach Lena decided to survey the basketball team (she handled both—there must be a serious case with the employment) for now and left me in charge with the swimming team. Certainly there were seniors, too but I seemed a lot more trained and skilled than all of them so last summer, I was voted captain.

“Hey, Bridget,” a note: anyone who didn’t want to embarrass me called me Bridget. My family, who seemed or faked to seem oblivious to what ‘Bridge’ did to me continued to address me that.

It just started when I had a little feud with this fifth grader calling me ‘London’s Falling Bridge.’ Stupid, pathetic little wiener.

Okay, maybe I acted too simple-minded, a sophomore smacking a petite fifth grader boy on the head but he just provoked me with his little, insignificant, corny joke!

As team captain, I had given my best friend exclusive permission for a break. She got out of the arena to grab drinks. Now this was what you call advantage. “Have you heard of Hart White’s son?”

There was a rumor about Hart White’s son attending here for the school year last summer. We didn’t truly pay attention to it but all the girls, normal ones, did. I never even heard of his son winning swimming competitions. He must be a total loser.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, he’s here, and he’s here right now.”

My eyes squinted and my lips formed a sheepish, evil grin. It was the first time I heard Kelly babble (well, she wasn’t babbling a lot) about one boy.

“And…what’s it got to do with me?”

“Look, Bridget, he’s…well…”

Uh-oh. She was actually stammering.

“Just look and see!”

Didn't look and see have the same meaning?

I frowned as she grabbed my head easily (she was only one inch shorter than I was) and twisted it to the direction of a mob of losers entering the arena. It seemed that they were all hooting laughs while two girls followed closely behind the boy mob. I counted at least six boys and in the middle was the most conspicuous one. It was impossible for any girl to resist looking at him.

Hey, I was still normal!

Okay…he was only a bit good-looking…and manly…and…umm…add spicy…

HE WAS SO FREAKING HOT THAT I COULD FEEL MY HEART SINKING INTO MY STOMACH!

DAMN IT!

“Bridget?” I realized I was staring (STARING?) at the boy when Kelly waved her hand annoyingly in front of me.

“What?” I snapped, breaking out of my reverie.

Kelly had the same grin I possessed earlier. I could swear I could feel my cheeks heat up. This was the first time I felt myself flush!

Euw! Flush for a loser!

A very hot, irresistible one!

“I told you! Not even Bridget Adams could avoid this…” I knew she gave herself a mental pat on the shoulder for being temporarily 'successful.'

“It ends with a stare.” I arrogantly marked my true words.

“Oh. Oh! Look! He’s staring in our direction!”

So right now, the losers went to sit on a bleacher that had a great view of the whole stadium. Unfortunately, Coach Lena still hadn’t arrived yet to scold them out (anyone’s butt who dared to interrupt training sessions by being loud was also kicked out of the arena) and the job was mine when she was absent although now, my tongue and feet were tied to do anything coherent.

“He’s looking at me! Don’t stare at him!” Kelly spanked my arm and I gave her a weird face.

“He just happened to have his eyes in this direction.” I wanted to add loser in the end but Kelly was my best friend, all right. “He’s laughing with his idiots right now.”

Somehow, through the years, Kelly stopped bugging me not to call strangers ‘idiot’ or ‘loser’ or anything connected to that.

And then his idiot eyes landed once again on…Kelly. Or I thought it was Kelly. Until this White loser decided to climb down the bleachers and head to…head to where the dressing rooms were…and the dressing rooms were behind us…with a loser smirk on his face…

“Hey,” a voice crept behind us.

Okay. We actually turned our backs on him when he arrived here to pretend that we were not spying.

We weren’t really spying, were we? Just…looking? And…staring?

Kelly, the loser she was (all right, I broke the promise), turned around and said, “Hi!” or more like squeaked it.

I knew White guy was grinning back at her and after a while, he spoke again. “So, may I just ask the name of your friend here?”

I side-glanced quickly to look at Kelly’s reaction. Her eyebrows jumped. “Oh, she’s Bridget and she’s my best friend.”

Typical.

“That’s great because…well…”

Why was it so great that I happened to be Bridget, idiot?

“Another twenty laps!” I furiously commanded the team as they groaned again. “One more of that and I’ll double it!” I didn't know what’s with my fury, though. Poor losers.

“Whoa, tough guy here, huh?”

I gave a side-glance again. Loser Kelly was wearing the same smirk I guessed that White guy had.

I was not going to be sorry this time.

“So…umm…Ryan,” Hey! Kelly never told me she knew Hart White’s son name was Ryan! Losers. “How’s your father these days?”

Father.

“He’s good.”

Tingles went down my skin and spine. I could feel some goose bumps when his breath actually tickled the back of my neck and that instant I knew how close he was standing next to me and realized how my body dried and now the fact that I was only in my swimsuit dawned on me.

I was half-naked next to a loser.

Okay, sorry.

A hot, very hot, dark brown-haired, green-eyed loser who happened to be taller than me (because I was taller than most of the male losers here).

“Hey,” I knew he was talking to me since he would be such a true idiot if he’d be saying that to Kelly again. “Bridget?”

I bit my lip and my eyes darted to the loser mob White guy was with before he went here. Unfortunately, they were…watching.

I didn’t take too long before I spun around and greeted him with a nervous smile of my own.

Hey, this was Bridget! And only losers, idiots, phonies and…uh…losers got nervous.

“Hi, what is it?” Better to be rude than sorry.

“I’m sorry. You see…this is set up by my friends so if you’ll please just let me do—”

“Huh?” The loser was talking about something nonsensical. Nothing new.

“They dared me to do something.”

I then discovered (urgh, a lot of discoveries and I hated it) that I was standing just a few feet away from the pool and one step backward would send me splashing away. Okay, so Ryan’s (I knew his name from Kelly and from Kelly alone) nose was just inches away from mine, too. As the intelligent girl I was, I stepped a smooth stride towards the side. Whew.

Safe distance.

“A dare? Are you going to have to kiss me or what?” I didn’t miss Kelly’s impulsive shocked reaction at my bluntness. “You know, a fun trivia, I hate dares especially when I’m the one in it. So I dare you to move off.” I glared one last time at him before scanning the pool to see slackers I could punish.

“Look.” White guy appeared as though he had not been expecting my attitude. Well, as I’d said, at least not everyone in the world was insane. “Please just bear with me.”

Conceited Loser wouldn't dare to stop. “Go dare with somebody else. I’m not...vacant.”

White idiot sighed. I didn’t know how Kelly bared to stay in the background. Ahh…finally.

The loser gave up.

When Bridget was here, no one else won.

“WHAT THE—?” I cursed as I felt two things squeezing my sides—hell, my waist!—and I looked down just to find out they were two hideous, gigantic hands and they were…they were kind of traveling up to my…

Before the stupid, loser idiotic…idiot could continue, I grabbed both of those gruesome hands and instantly, the winner I constantly was, hauled them out of my waist and kicked him with a leg. He potently landed on the pool, of course, and I got utterly wet again after those minutes of drying. Growling to myself, I glared at my so-called best friend. “You knew that was coming, didn’t you!”

“It’s not like I could stop him!”

My eyebrows joined at what she said. “You’re just brainwashed by the stupid loser!”

“I was not!” She turned crimson.

“Well, whatever! At least I’m not stupid enough to drool in front of him!”

“Stop calling everyone loser!”

“Well, everyone is, right?”

“What in hell’s name makes you think you could just push me off like that?” A deep voice came behind me. Of course I knew who it was.

Wait, how was he able to get up so fast?

Speedy loser made a new world record.

“The same hella name that made you think you could just touch me like that.” I twirled, my voice sing-song and teasing. My head tilted in every syllable and his eyes just got smaller and smaller in a fraction of a second.

“As a civilized citizen of United States of America, you could simply say 'no' to me instead of tossing me straight to the pool.” His steps also got nearer and our distance was just as little as the slits that made up his foolish eyes.

“Oh, now who isn’t civilized here when I just told you I was not vacant?” My hands were on my hips, chin up. He was only four inches taller than me, dumbo leprechaun.

He opened his mouth but I cut him off before one little word could come out.

“Who can’t understand English properly? I told you to dare with somebody else. Or do I have to speak louder for the benefit of the deaf?”

Another mouth-opening—

“Who ever said I’m the wrong one here when all I do is train my team and then you suddenly walk in, asking permission to touch my boobs?”

His nostrils flared with the dilating of his eyes. Perfect combination.

“Now, I don’t think I’m dense when I said no.” My head tilted to the side as a finger poked his chest hard. He looked like he was not just used to being rejected. But what could I expect from big time swimmer Hart White’s son?

How fast the pig was when he just grabbed my hand and fastened it on his side, technically pulling me closer to him.

“Get off!” I squirmed, growling, wriggling off from his grip. The pigheaded pork refused. “Who are you to actually think you could do this?”

“Who are you to actually kick me to the pool?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m Bridget Adams.”

“Adams! ADAMS!” He sang my name with a laugh, still not letting go. “So I get it now, that’s where you got your unreasonableness!”

“Ha! Look who’s talking Whitey-pants, I never intended to push you or even waste a second of my life thinking of you or anything that has to do with you. And no one said you’ll be shot dead if you don’t touch me.”

“I wasn’t serious when I was touching you!”

“Oh! Well, then what would you say if I grabbed your hideous thing and said ‘oh it’s nothing’?” I mock-sang the last part, eyelashes all batting.

“I’ve had a bad day. It was their way of making me cool off.” He grunted, shaking me violetly with his grip.

“Ha! By grabbing a woman’s—”

“Just forget it!” He jostled me further.

“How could I? I can’t let you off just like that! I have to have my revenge!”

“You already did.”

“Well…then why aren’t you letting go?”

He shut up for a while.

Jackpot.

Okay, not jackpot, because he began towing me with my elbow towards the…towards the dressing room. The males dressing room. How daft could he get?

“I said let go!” Kelly followed after me but the loser was unfortunately quick enough when he threw me inside the empty room (all of them were in the pool). I swear before he closed the door, I heard his mates hooting. “Now what? First you sexually harass me and then when I say you can’t continue, your stubborn feather-brain even told you to take me here? How on earth were you even able to enter this academy?”

“Listen, chick.”

My jaw dropped.

No one who wanted to live a peaceful, endearing life called me chick.

“You just defined the meaning of ‘worst welcome ever.’ And no sane being ever messes with Ryan White.”

And no sane being messed with Bridget all the more, except idiots and losers.

“I know who you damn are! You’re Ryan White and you have a head the size of the tummy of the world's fattest man and no one ever messes with you! So can you please give it a break? As you can see, I’m the victim. The innocent. The oppressed. And a very hospitable one for that matter because you should be thankful you’re not rotting in the graves right now for hassling me.”

“We’re not finished, Adams.”

“Oh! I’m so scared!” I feigned a frightened face, then rolled my eyes. “Let go, dope.” I punched him powerfully on the arm before taking a step.

Just as I expected, the inconsiderate dope effortlessly pushed my shoulders and I instantly landed against a locker bank near the door.

Now my nostrils flared. With fire.

This loser wasn’t going to stop this right now, and I could see that. If no one messed with Whitey, then it went so much more for Bridget Adams.

I was ready, I was set, and I would be giving it a go.

Loser, as usual, I would win.

February 8, 2009

First of all, thanks to those who read and especially, those who review! You're all awesome. People like you keep me going on! If you happen to drop by this page, thanks for even just taking the slightest bit of interest! That means a lot.

Finally! I finished editing the whole thing!

Now, the stuffs mentioned in this story about Teletubbies, Count Olaf, and Katy Perry are not mine. I'm not offending Katy Perry in any way- in fact, I love her songs. :D

Till here. Thanks a lot!