• Brighter than the sun, her smile sparkled like light over icy snow. Sitting next to her boyfriend, her soft hands were held by his large ones. He was a star football player, destined to be great. Everyone cooed over how perfect they were together, how happy they were. Of course they were happy. He was sleeping with the prettiest girl in school and she held the heart of a future multi-millionaire.

    Every boy in school was in love with her, and all the girls looked up to her. She was the ultimate American girl: Long, flowing locks of honey blonde hair, sky blue eyes rimmed with thick dark lashes, flushed cheeks, creamy skin, a smile brighter than the sun and a voice that would make an angel cry.

    He hated her. Every single thing about her. The way her eyes would fill with faux-pity when some girl poured the contents of her heart to her. How her laugh would ring like a thousand perfect bells when some boy told a joke that was only partly funny. That dumb look of blind admiration that everyone gave her.

    It made him sick.

    He remembered how last year he took her aside, poured forth his undying love to her and begged her to leave her boyfriend. In his heart, he knew he would treat a girl better. He would have loved her for her, not for her beauty or popularity. From sky blue to an eerie shade of ice, her eyes lost all of their charming warmth. Suddenly, his warm angel looked nothing more than a treacherous angel of darkness. Low and cruel, her voice cut him as deeply as her words: "Why would I give a rat's a** for a low-bred scum like you? You're never going to be worth anything. You're never going to get rich, you're never going to be famous. You're just going to be a pathetic Ordinary Joe." With that, she turned on her heel and went back to her friends.

    For a moment he had stood there, thinking that maybe she was just having a bad day and that she could have been chilly towards everyone. But no, when he went to spy and see if his theory was true, he found her laughing and charming everyone. Heart broken, he saw with changed eyes how each smile and laugh was a fake gesture to win people over. Hatred overcame love, and he wanted nothing more than to see her revealed.

    The year slid by, he grew up and grew stronger, garnering attention from some of her friends. In coldness he refused all of those who held her in high-esteem, seeing only how sweet and perfect she was. Everyone was turned down.

    Now, watching her farewell her boyfriend, he walked swiftly across the parking lot, wanting to intersect her on her path to her car. He managed to stand by the tree, lounging as if he had been there the whole time. She came closer, and he called, "Isadora."

    She stopped, the warmth fading from her prescence like ice. "What do you want?" she asked coldly.

    "For you to show your real colors," he said, voice just as flinty.

    She eyed him cautiously. "What are you talking about?"

    "Show people what you're really like. A cold, conniving girl who doesn't care for anyone. All your darling little smiles are fake, your laughs at pathetic jokes are just to win them over. You wouldn't care if all of them died before your eyes, as long as they died loving you."

    She seemed to only pay attention half-heartedly through his little speech. She was looking to his left, eyes focused on the empty road. "Congratulations," she said slowly. "You've figured out the obvious. Any other theories you'd like to run by me?"

    "No."

    "Good," she said, and made to step around him. He stepped back to block her, and they continued this little dance for a bit. Finally she made as if to run, and he trotted backwards into the street.

    A screech of tires, and something slammed into him. His legs crumpled beneath him, and everything went in slow motion. All he could see was her cold eyes watching him fall, her body perfectly relaxed as her only threat was hit by a large pick-up truck. Then his head smashed into the bumper, and he knew nothing.