For today’s writing prompt, imagine that you’re going to run into your high school nemesis over the upcoming weekend.
Keep reading to see the full writing prompt and my completed version of it: Mean Girls 2.0.
Today’s Writing Prompt: That time I ran into my high school nemesis …
Today, write about what you think it would be like to run into your high school nemesis this coming weekend. And base the scenario you write about, in which you run into your high school nemesis, on your current weekend plans. If you’re planning on staying at home this upcoming weekend, imagine that your high school nemesis shows up at your front door unannounced.
Completed Version of Today’s Writing Prompt
Mean Girls 2.0, by K.E. Creighton
As I turned around, newly acquired watered-down draft beer in hand, my elbow crashed into her elbow, Mellie’s elbow. It was a full-frontal, albeit unintentional, assault of semi-cool liquid. Beer was everywhere except my cup after the collision.
In retrospect, I wish I would have had enough foresight to plan the first encounter I had with my high school nemesis that way, with no remorse. It’s shameful to admit, though it’s true. But no, I was oblivious, as usual. And she had always used that against me, even ten years later— my compassion and assumption that people are good were always weaknesses in her eyes. It had taken years of therapy to understand that.
At first, because I obviously hadn’t been paying attention, I didn’t realize it was her. So I was reactive and rushed to get some napkins from the nearby condiment station to clean up my mess. Some napkins fell to the ground as I frantically started handing them to her as I bent down to clean off her shoes. I was looking down as I tried to clean off her new Nikes, covered in beer. Because I’m a good person. Or so I thought.
I recognized her laugh first. I was crouched down on the ground when I heard it. It always made me retract inside myself in disgust. It was a megalomaniacal laugh.
I looked up and saw the smirk on her face.
“Oh, Jan, of course,” she laughed when I looked up.
I stopped patting at her Nikes with napkins, stood up slowly, and swallowed.
“Oh. Mellie. How’s it going?”
“Great actually,” she said as she patted her pregnant belly.
My eyes grew large. Shit. Of course, I ran into a pregnant woman and spilled beer all over her, and it was Mellie, of course.
“It looks like you’re the same ol’ same ol’ Jan, huh?”
She laughed again with a vacant look in her eyes, her blond curls still fully intact, shiny, and bouncy.
Mellie’s hair had been the same style on the day of our graduation ceremony ten years ago. I could never forget it. She had been in front of me as we traversed the stage to collect our diplomas. I tripped over her gown and she stepped out of the way instead of holding me up, leading me to face-plant in front of the crowd. And as the blood from my broken nose had covered the ground, blending with the color of my rented regalia, she had kept her distance, blankly smiling.
Before an avalanche of memories of similar instances between us could pummel me I took a deep breath, just as I had practiced in therapy. I decided she wouldn’t use my compassion against me. Not this time.
“Right. Enjoy the game, Mellie.”
I started walking away without apologizing. My stomach felt heavy as I left her standing there alone covered in beer. But I refused to let her know.
When I returned to my seat in the stadium, my husband asked what happened to the beer I was supposed to get. I told him about the encounter with Mellie and said, “Can you imagine her being a mother? Lord help us all, and the future generations of the world. That child will be pure evil if it’s just like her.”
I found out later that Mellie had lost the baby a few weeks after our encounter. And all I can think about now is how I should have apologized that day and bought her a clean shirt. This wasn’t high school anymore, after all.
[All Rights Reserved by K.E. Creighton and Creighton’s Compositions LLC. The above work is a piece of fiction. All names and locations referred to are the product of the author’s imagination and are used entirely for fictional purposes. Any similarities to real-life persons or places are purely coincidental.]
Notes on Completing this Writing Prompt
I don’t have a high school nemesis myself, which might be apparent in my writing above. It’s probably because I went to three different high schools and never really knew anyone all that well during those years. Or because I tend to just avoid petty people. Regardless, I do know what it’s like to look back on an encounter and wish you would have been nicer to a person, even if that person is never nice to you, simply because you have to live with yourself and your own actions. It’s not always easy.