But She Cares

by Stessa

I hate watching her around school. I hate that she's so perfect at anything she does. She's got okay grades, she's an awesome cheerleader and she fights for the world. I can do nothing but watch her. I can only wish it's me, but I know it isn't. I'm not that perfect. I have a screwed-up family, I'm not that pretty, and I'm not the head cheerleader. My grades suck big time, and I wish I was as smart as her.

Or at least if I couldn't be like her, then maybe I could be with her. I could be her helper, much like he is. Instead of him, it'd be me. I could do just as good, if not better. I know I could. And I would look cuter in that outfit than him, that's for sure. I don't even know why she bothers to spend so much time with him. Well, they are dating, so of course. But that doesn't mean I don't wish it was me.

Oh yeah, you heard right. I do like her. Well, I think I practically love her. For some weird reason I haven't quite figured out myself yet. But I do. I mean, I watch her obsessively at school. I try not to look when we're changing in the locker room, though I'm not always successful. I think some of the other girls have noticed, but I try not to let them get to me. I hear the whispers around school, they call me all kind of names, but I really don't want to listen to them, so I just walk away.

I hate her when she tries to act nice to me. I think she can see that I'm not doing too good. I think she knows that I don't really have any close friends and that I suck at everything I do. And that I put that façade on so no one will know. She probably also knows how I feel about her, but I really hope she doesn't.

"Hey Bonnie!" she always says, when she stops in front of me, when I'm checking my make-up in the mirror I have in my locker. She seems so happy and I cringe because I know she is, and I can't stand that she's happy when she not with me, and I'm so sad because of it.

So I put on my façade, and even if I don't want to, I hurt her with the tone in my voice and the hard look in my eyes. "What do you want, Kim?" I ask her.

I love my eyes. They're practically the only thing I like about myself. I know I have pretty eyes. I wish she would see that too. Maybe she could even tell me she likes them. It would definitely make me feel better, I can say that now.

She frowns at me. God, I love it when she frowns at me. She looks concerned, like really concerned. But what do I do? I keep hurting her and I know I push her away because of that. It's really weird, isn't it? "I just wanted to know if you are okay?" she says. Her voice is beautiful. Okay, so she could have been a better singer, but she's still greater than most people. And I just love to listen to her in class.

You can't say this to anybody else, but sometimes, when she talks in class, I close my eyes and listen to just her voice. I will imagine the two of us being together and how perfect it would be. Most of the time I wake up because the teacher is calling my name, and I haven't been listening. She gives me a concerned look, and the teacher tells me I've got detention.

"Of course I'm okay!" I harshly reply to her; I have a hard time keeping that smile off of my face, and I hope she'll just leave because I don't want her to see me smile. It would ruin everything, "Why wouldn't I be?" I add, as an afterthought.

She shrugs her shoulders and her t-shirt rides up her stomach slightly. I try not to stare, but the slick skin of her stomach catches my attention, and my gaze is locked to her stomach long after the shirt has fallen back again, "You just looked sad, that's all." She says.

I tare my eyes away from her body and let them meet hers in a furious lock, "I'm not sad." I say, and I know my voice is quivering slightly. I hope she doesn't notice it, it would be disaster, "I'm perfectly fine, and will you just go!" I know it's hard to say that to one of the only people who actually cares to ask if you're okay, when everybody can see you're not, but I can't help it. It hurts me for some reason, it's unexplainable.

She gives me another look, and I know she just wants to be my friend. And that's the problem here. I don't want to be just her friend. I want to be something so much more, and if I am just her friend, it will hurt too much. I'd rather not have her at all, if it comes down to it. I just wish I wasn't hurting her in the process of everything.

I give her another look and she turns around on her heel, walking down the hallway. I watch her leave, I can't help it. She's too amazing and too gorgeous. I hope no one sees me. I can hear them talking if they do. They already talk, she has probably heard it. Maybe that's why she's coming to talk to me all the time. She probably feels pity. Well, I don't want her pity! I want her love.

She turns her head around and our eyes meet for a brief second. I let my eyes fall to the floor and lean against the locker next to mine.

I hate her. I absolutely hate her. I hate that she's so much prettier than me. I hate that her hair is longer, and just a tad browner. I hate that she gets the good grades and that her body is much better in shape. I hate that her family is perfect when mine is screwed-up. I hate that she acts so nice to everyone, when I'm just a bitch.

But mostly I just… Mostly I just hate her because of the way she makes me feel; I hate her because I love her.

Review please? I'd love to know what you think.

Disclaimer; I don't own Kim Possible.