Just thinking about her made my blood boil. The very sight of her, even in a picture, or even the smallest thing that resembled her, made me clench my teeth and see red flashing in front of my face. I walked home from school, my balled up fists shoved hard into my pockets and my blue eyes glaring at the golden brown path that led to my house. I had become a walking storm cloud. Because of her.
Her name was Angelica Gordon, and she was in my engineering class. I hated, hated, HATED her. In engineering class, I had designed a box that you sit in during an electrical storm. It was made of the metal on cars that resisted the electric current. She had laughed in my face about my idea.
"Come on!" She had sneered, flicking her straight red ponytail into my face. "Who's gonna buy that! It's so stupid! Use your common sense, Brooke!" I had thought it was a genius idea and was devastated to hear it being ridiculed by an inferior being. Okay, I'm exaggerating a little. I have a short temper. When I get mad, I get MAD. I'm actually very shy, but I observe people. Underneath my shell, I have strong opinions and people say or do things that make me mad A LOT. I blow up at people way too much. Yes, I admit it, I have a problem.
Anyway, Angelica had hopped around the room, asking people if they would live in a stupid little box during an electrical storm. That wasn't what it was! It was a great idea, MY idea, and she was just- I didn't want to embarrass myself again like I did in engineering class. I had gotten so mad I pounded my fist on the table way too hard and let out a pained yelp. The teacher had frowned at me behind her circular purple spectacles.
I viciously curled my long blonde hair around my fingers, almost pulling it out in fury. I saw a rock in the middle of the path to my house. I kicked it aggressively, feeling its rough surface collide with my blue Converse. It landed with a clatter into my neighbor's fire pit, waking him up from his nap in his hammock. He shouted at me as I bolted away. I reached my house, tore past my Mom, who stepped aside, knowing not to bother me when I was mad, and flew through the air into my room and onto the bed. That was where I spent most of the evening.
The next day, I walked into engineering class, hearing murmurs about living in boxes. I plopped my backpack on a chair, averting my eyes from Angelica, who was smirking and chewing on a pencil.
She told me coldly, "I'm an average person who has lost- I mean, I would not buy your product." She reddened, fingering her purple shirt. She was obviously trying not to reveal a secret. She had lost something. I was too busy thinking about this to pay attention to her jeering at me for the rest of class.
That night, I lay in bed thinking. What had Angelica lost? Was it something that caused her to be mean to me? I finally fell asleep, clutching my pillow in my right hand. I was suddenly in a house in the middle of a horrible storm. Lightning was flashing outside the window, making my vision become dotted with flashing multicolored streaks.
A woman, for some reason I thought she was my Mom, yelled,  "C'mon Angelica, we have to get to the storm shelter!" Angelica? I opened my mouth to tell her my name was Brooke Harrison, but I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as she dragged me along, and I had a red mane of hair and a purple shirt. I WAS Angelica. I didn't have time to consider this because I saw a man who I thought was my Dad. He was desperately trying to find something, but I knew he wasn't safe.
"DAD!" I yelled. My voice was drowned out by a clap of thunder. The ceiling collapsed, seemingly in slow motion, onto the man. I screamed louder than I ever had before. I woke up with a start. It was just a dream. I did not sleep for the rest of the night.
When I was walking in the hall the next morning, Angelica was walking near me and dropped her bag. A whole bag of toothbrushes, toothpaste, and shampoo danced across the floor. Why did she bring that to school? Things were getting weirder and weirder! Then I realized there had been a huge storm last week. The school was being used as a shelter for students who lost their homes. Maybe Angelina had lost her home. Maybe she was upset thinking about it and took it out on me. I didn't know for sure, though. I hurried to my next class, which was Science. The teacher handed out forms.
"They're for the memorial ceremony to be held on Sunday for people who lost their families and are temporarily living in the school. The names are at the bottom." He told us. I scanned the names, and my eyes fell on the words "Robert Gordon, father of Angelica Gordon." So Angelica's Dad really did die. No wonder she was so mean to me. My box idea reminded her of her Dad. The bag of toiletries in her backpack made sense, too. She was living at school.
That afternoon, I sat on the couch, thinking about Angelica. I couldn't take it anymore. I felt so bad about her Dad. I decided to do something about it. I darted outside towards the school. Dark clouds began to gather on the horizon. I could see flashes of light coming from inside them. Lightning. Thunder. A storm was coming. The clouds got closer as I ran. I heard the sound of drums in the distance and knew the thunder was coming. Then rain came. It pelted me mercilessly, soaking me to the skin. I kept running and running. I heard the loudest sound I had ever heard directly behind me. I kept running. Light flashed across my face. I kept running.
  I reached the school and wrenched the door open with my slippery hands. Somehow I knew where to go to find her. I kept running and didn't stop until I got to the gym. Sleeping bags were scattered all over the floor like autumn leaves. I saw Angelica's red head in the corner and ran up to her. By then I had tears in my eyes.
"I'm SO sorry about your Dad!" I sobbed. She began to cry, too. She didn't even ask how I knew about her Dad.
"I'm sorry I was so mean." She sniffed. I gave her a hug. We got along much better from that day on.