Warrior Cats: The Four Clans

If you looked her from bear paw boots to brunette curls, youd see a very beautiful, popular teenager with loads of friends, tons of admirers, and buckets of gossip. From her skinny jeans to her black, stylish vest covering a white short-sleeved tee to her thick eyelashes painted with mascara, she was a popular. Of course, she must be friendly, sweet, and giving.

Wrong.

                I gulped as I stared at Ariel, swishing my raven hair out of my eyes. I have a shaggy, messy cut that some girls find quite eye-catching. Personally, I dont care what others think of me. I only like my hair to hang in my eyes because Im very timid and feel more invisible that way.

My dark blue eyes couldnt pull away from the gorgeous teen. Sure, every boy in school would agree she was hot and extremely attractive; I couldnt deny my own feelings about her. But underneath that outer layer of stunning features was a sticky, slimy, back-stabbing undercoat that had a strong attitude, and I was one of the only ones who truly saw the monster for what it was.

Ariels bubbly, bubblegum-haired friend bobbed around her, Dimetras gleaming emerald eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. When Travis passed them and waved, not a single popular lifted a finger in greeting. In fact, it was as if everybody who walked by them was a tree outside a car window, the popular crowd being the car of course. Its like, you see the trees, but you dont. You know theyre there, but theyre just trees, whats to give thought to?

Pretty much during my whole ninth grade experience, Ive been less than a tree. Ive been a shrub, which is about the least significant level on the popularity bar. There are trees with blossoms, like Janessa Lowes, who was friends with the populars, there were regular trees like Amber Hugh, who meant absolutely nothing to the populars, then there were shrubs, like Nathan Denning me-, who didnt even exist in their world.  But dont show me pity. Im used to it.

I combed my raven hair out of my eyes with my pale fingers. Ariel passed me, oblivious to the amber eyed boy standing there, watching her every footstep, her every blink, her every breath. Now, dont call this obsessive, just call this life. Please dont tell me youve never thought about the most popular person in your school. Please. I will cry. Carrying on, I longed to control her movement, to sweep her hair out of its style so that it flowed behind her like a waterfall, so that I could be the trout hopping out of the stream, curling my arms around her waist

I daydream like this on a regular basis, yet I refuse counseling. But its hard to help yourself with Ariel. Imagine ice cream. Yummy, right? Now imagine ice cream with fluffy marshmallows, squirts of whipped cream, and an oversized handful of gummy bears.  Scrumptious. That would be Ariel. If only well, never mind. You dont really need to hear my story.

Okay. Fine. But you asked for it. Ill tell you when something noteworthy occurs.

Author's Note: You might as well know that it switches Point's Of View every chapter. The titles of the chapter is the new POV.

I stared at the gorgeous teen that I used to be afraid of. Psh, some popular. Couldn't even get the words out of her mouth. I shook my head, snickering, as I followed the teachers stretches casually, glancing every now and then back at the priceless reaction plastered on Ariel's face. That's what cameras are for, man. As we evolved into the butterfly, Ariel was still motionless. So motionless and spaced out, in fact, Dimetra scooted over to some other insane girl with a huge ego. I smiled to myself, glad I had put her in that state.

For the rest of the period, she didn't say a word. Not one. Nor did her eyes sparkle for even just a second like they usually do. I would know, I stare into hers for long periods of time. They're beautiful.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "If you like her so much, why are you teasing her, dumb butt?" Though the insult could be quite better, I will answer calmly: I'm a dude. Seriously, thats the explanation for all. Sometimes when dudes like chicks, they act strange or tease them. Dont ask me, ask my mom (she made me, after all). Or God. God knows all.

I stared mindlessly at her through the rest of gym. Ms. Lolasser dismissed us a bit early, so I let myself get stuck in the flock of girls and flood of young men bolting to their locker rooms. I quickly changed back into my baggy pants and tight t-shirt, running a damp hand through my hair, messing it up. Who cares? Hair is hair. As far as I'm concerned, hair only looks bad when egged.

I was secretly walking behind her in the halls, watching her curvy figure as it strut through the hallway. Still, I could tell by the way she moved her hips that something was troubling her (so I stare at her hips. So what? Dont you guys stare at your crushs butt?). I admired her confident walk and the way her arms swayed back and forth, clutching several books in each. Her hair flipped around in back of her, styled in some sort of insane do that I cant really describe. If only she knew that just leaving her hair down was enough to drive my hormones insane, because it just made it easier for it to fly in the wind.

I followed her all the way to the lunch tables, where she sat down at her popular ones, totally out of it. Her gorgeous amber eyes were spacey, and I could tell (being an expert on her of course) that she had no clue what her friends were gossiping about. Well then, good for her. Now if only the little princess would stay that way. No, seriously.

But what happened next is a blur. It shocked me right down to the very bone, the very hormone. Ariel stood up. No, thats not the shocking part. She began to walk towards me, towards Nathan Denning, ninth grader, black-haired scrawny teen with pale skin and deep brown eyes. And she spoke to me.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Were the velvety words that escaped from her lips.