SKYE'S POV:
Of all the things Holden could've chosen to ruin in my life, it had to be soccer. The one time in the day when I don't have to worry about how I failed the last Geometry test, or how I need to study for AP Biology. I honestly have no clue how I got into that class. I have a sneaking suspicion that my mom had something to do with it. Thanks mom.
Always putting me into classes that I'm sure to fail. Great. At least Holden's not in any of my classes.

Scratch that. I spoke too soon. He's in. My. Freaking. Spanish. Class. B-days? Suddenly not looking so hot. Speaking of which, I'm in Spanish right now. Part five. How I haven't flunked out yet, I don't know. But I do know, it's sure to happen soon.
"Skye?" Mrs. Juarez asks.
"Yes?" I return. Shoot. I probably should've said that in Spanish, seeing as it is that class...
"You will be working with Holden." Wait, for what? I probably should've paid more attention.
WAIT, HOLD THE PHONE.
Did she just say HOLDEN? Crap, I can't work with him! That'll definitely bring my grade down to, like, a -37.
"Excuse me, but I can't work with him," I say, matter-of-factly.
"Porque?" Mrs. Juarez asks. "Why?"
"He literally has the brain capacity of a fruit fly." I inform her while the rest of the class laughs.
"Oh, that's rich, coming from someone who's failing all her classes." Holden complains.
"I'm not failing all of my classes!" I exclaim indignantly. "I'm not failing this one!"
"I wouldn't call one point away from failing exactly passing, either." Mrs. Juarez interjects.
"Yeah, but-"
"Please stop arguing!" Lacey, the school-wide teacher's pet tells us.
"I'm not arguing," I retort. "I'm just...debating loudly."
Holden snorts. "Were you dropped as a child?" He earns a few snickers, but I can tell most of them are waiting for my response.
"Yeah," I answer. "From heaven."
"SLAY!" I hear someone yell from the back of the classroom while I smirk.
"If this is a loud debate, then you should've taken debate instead," Mrs. Juarez snaps. "In fact, get out of my classroom. Right. Now." She points towards the door.
Kicked out of two classrooms in two days. Great, Mom's gonna kill me!
Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.
"Skye?" My mother asks, her heels clicking along the floor as she walks towards us. "Did you get kicked out of class again?"
"Maybe just a little bit," I answer, looking at the floor like it's the most captivating thing ever.
"And you as well?" My mom addresses Holden.
"Yes, Principal Johnson," He answers, ashamed. Hey, it's not my fault he chose to be annoying.
"Would either of you like to tell me why?" She inquires, and Holden shakes his head.
I, however, have other ideas.
"You see, ma'am," I start, making a point not to call her mom. "Holden decided that he didn't like my views on things, and we started a friendly debate, which ended with us getting kicked out."
Holden glares at me. "Excuse me, miss, but it isn't MY fault. It is totally and utterly ALL Skye's fault."
"Come on mom," I plead. "Who are you going to believe, your daughter or some new student?"
Holden's eyes widen at the whole 'mother-daughter' thing. I guess he didn't make the connection yet.
"Wait," He says. "You, Skye, are her daughter?"
I nod, and then giggle. "Looks like someone's not the brightest cookie in the jar either."
I mean, most people make the connection automatically. We both have the last name Johnson, and some people say we look alike right down to the last freckle.
Holden is dumbstruck, looking back and forth between the two of us with his mouth hanging open slightly.
"You're going to catch a fly if you keep your mouth open like that," My mom tells him.
I gasp. "Then you'll have double the brain capacity!"
"B-but," He manages to get out. "You two are nothing alike!"
"That, my friend, is where you are completely wrong."

HOLDEN'S POV:
I was really starting to get sick of Skye. Yesterday I had no classes with the Pain (yes, that's her new nickname) but then I got to Spanish today. I was about to cheer (like all-out) because she wasn't here.
Ten seconds left...
With exactly five seconds to spare, she casually walked in to the classroom. My heart sunk. Did she really have to ruin my day?

Apparently, yes. That was on her to-do list. Because as soon as the opportunity came along, she struck up an argument with me.
And then we got kicked out of class.
Gee thanks, Pain.
Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, the principal came over. The. Freaking. Principal.
*•^•*•^•*
The worst just got worse. The Principal is her mom! There is legit no way I'm going to win the argument now.
Did I mention I hate Skye?
Wait, I have an idea.
You know what they say, revenge is a dish best served cold.

SKYE'S POV:
After Spanish the day went pretty smoothly, if I do say so myself. I'm currently in Mr. Bass' classroom, and we're getting our tests back. He hands mine back, and I peek at the grade. An 87. I can't remember the last time I got a B...is that bad?
Yeah, I think so.
Anyway, when Ellie saw my grade she squealed and gave me a hug. It was actually quite embarrassing, seeing as she (and almost everyone else) got a perfect score.
I winced, realizing I got the lowest grade in the class. I really should get some help with that.
Apparently, Mr. Bass is thinking the same thing, because at the end of class he calls me over to his desk.
"What's up?" I ask as casually as I can.
"I think you might need a tutor," He states.
"Agreed," I respond.
"Really?" He asks, surprised that I would second anything he says.
"Well, I want to pass, right?" I deadpan.
"Okay, Ben Calloway can help you. I'll ask him later and you two can work out the details. Alright?"
Ben Calloway. One of the hottest boys in the grade, with a bonus of...
Having a brain!
"Works for me. See you tomorrow Mr. Bass!" I run out of the classroom and down to the field with a quick stop at the locker room. I'm already late, so I just dump my bag on the floor.
"Sorry I'm late Coach!" I yell at Nick and head over to Holden.
"You again," He grunts.
"Now, is that any way to greet someone?" I ask sweetly.
He rolls his eyes and move into goalie position.
I make every shot.
Not to be rude, but this boy is definitely NOT on track to be the next Tim Howard. Nowhere close, I'm telling you.
My turn for goalie. He kicks the ball as hard as he can, and I catch it leisurely. I've practiced with my older brother, Emmett, thousands of times. I would still be, but he went away to college.
In turn, I chuck it back at his head as hard as I can. He doesn't even have time to react as it pelts him in the head and he falls over.
"Sorry," I rush over and offer a hand, which he quickly grabs. I pull him up about half way, then let go of his hand. He then proceeds to fall on his butt.
"Not sorry." I stifle a laugh.

HOLDEN'S POV:
That's it. I am DONE with Skye FREAKING Johnson. I thought she was bad before, but now I can't stand her!

I help myself up, and storm over to Nick, with Pain (and everybody else) following curiously.
"I CAN'T WORK WITH HER!" I yell at Nick, pointing to Skye.
"Why?" Coach asks.
"I'm allergic to idiots." I state bluntly, and Ian holds up his hand for a highfive.
"So you're allergic to yourself?" Skye says, trying to look innocent--and failing miserably. "Ooh, that's gotta suck."
"Do you see what I mean?"
"I think you need a break," Nick says, and I run inside to 'cool down'.
Time for revenge.
Looks like I'll be needing those extra ketchup packets from lunch. Oh, and admission to the girl's locker room. That could be a problem.
Skye won't even know what hit her.

SKYE'S POV:
Holden came back, looking smug. I glared at him.
"Haven't your parents ever taught you it's rude to stare?" It probably took him all fifteen minutes to think of that one.
"You got a little something." I point to his face.
He quickly gave his face a swipe. "Did I get it?"
"No, I thought there was something-but then I realized it was just your face."
He scowls at me while I laugh.
*•^•*•^•*
The rest of practice goes by in a flash. Just boring drills, really. We can skip over those, unless you actually want to hear all that. I think I'll save you from the agony.

So anyway, I walk into the girls locker room to find my stuff where I dumped it on the floor, only covered in ketchup.
"HOLDEN!" I yell.
"Don't kill me!" I can hear him whimper.
I turn to my friends, who are all looking at me in horror.
I grin devilishly and say, "Violence is never the answer, but pranks are."
If it's a prank war her wants, then it's a prank war he shall get.