“I hear the theatre club is holding auditions for Antigone. It’s a tragedy about a teenage girl who dies because she won’t shut up and let things go. You’d be a shoe-in for the lead.”

She keeps walking towards the door. I clutch at the belt around my waist. My eyes start burning. Something actually goes down my cheek this time. Then I do something I haven’t done since middle school: I shriek.

“Why?! What did I ever do to you?? You were my only friend! You kissed me!”

I break down in tears for the first time since middle school and so does she. Only she doesn't cry and just looks pissed.

“Shut up, shut up!”

“Why do you only keep trying to hurt me?”

“Hurt you? I’ve been trying to protect you!”

“What on earth could you be protecting me from?”

“I have to protect everyone! That’s what I do as President.”

“Gwen, you’re seventeen! You can’t put a whole school on your shoulders.”

“You should take your own advice.”

I hate it when assholes make good points. Right now, I’m too pissed and hurt to even care.

“I don’t need protecting.”

“Yes you do.”

“Then tell me what the hell from!”

The President flinches.

Then the President kisses me.

My mind goes completely blank.

I only really gather what just happened when I see Dante Blair standing in the doorway.

As Gwen pulls herself away from me, I see the same expressions in the face of the two most powerful people I’ve ever seen in my life that I never thought I’d see: hurt.

“Dante, what – “

“I grabbed your phone on accident.”

He darts out. Gwen goes after him.

“Dante, no, wait!”

Like hell she was leaving me without answers.

“Gwen, wait – “

I reach for her, but she throws my hand off. “No! Stop! Just stop! Please. Just stop. You ruin everything.”

She chases after her man. So here I am in the most familiar position: completely alone. Twenty thousand thoughts race through my mind. What the hell just happened? Was it even real? Is this all a set-up? Are they screwing with me? Did I just step into one of Tibby’s telavovelas? Or is this some twisted reversion of the Matt Hardy/Edge/Lita story? Or more Triple H/Stephanie McMahon/Chyna? Can’t a gay chick be happy?

Even through all the questions, one thought rampaged through the rest and just sat in the middle of my mind: she kissed me longer than she had kissed Dante.

But if I could step out of this for a moment, as much as I love to be in the present about things like this, I have to step back in my own time.

I forgot. Watts had been wrong. He said it takes conviction and confidence to turn heel and become a snake. It also takes venom. I had just built up more than enough of that.

But Gwen was right. I do ruin everything. I become a poison from here on out. Ain’t that a kick in the head.