Page 17 of Subscriber Wars

No one can ever know what went down between Sebastian and me.

Me: I hate you.

It’s sort of the truth. I do hate him, sometimes, but this one time—never mind. Those days are over. All that matters is the here and now. Sebastian and I are enemies. I turn back to Aspen and Fenn, not able to help them at all because my damn phone dings again, and I swear on all things holy that I really do try not to read it.

Demon Douche: Knock ‘em dead, Tiger. I won’t be rooting for you.

I flip the idiot off.

Fuck being a good neighbor.

University CamFlix Competition Submission

Entry Number: 75

Sebastian and Valentina

First Interview Continued, also known as those precious few minutes I will never get back

“What exactly did Sebastian do to sabotage your video?”

Had I known the producers would be so damn nosy in these interviews, I might have negotiated with Bash-hole for a sixty-forty split instead of fifty-fifty. This is awful.

“Have you ever seen the movie,Titanic?” I ask the producer.

He nods. “Great film.”

I narrow my eyes. “Yes. It also has an iconic scene where Jack and Rose are at the bow of the ship and they are ‘flying.’”

Tom, the producer nods, and scoots to the edge of his chair, captivated by my story. “Well, you see, I was singing that song, and I might have been standing, singing with my eyes closed and my arms out wide, just as Rose did, when Sebastian stumbled upon me.”

The party is in full swing, complete with girls in way less clothing than me and Aspen, who, by the way, is now wearing Bennett’s t-shirt. She finally gave in and felt bad that she was causing him stress on his birthday. I, on the other hand, am still in my bathing suit, sans any sort of cover up. I wanted to go across the courtyard and grab something from the house, but then people started arriving and I had to help Drew with drinks.

We’re two hours in to this shindig and people are still arriving. I don’t know what Fenn did to convince the complex manager to let us have the party in the courtyard, but I’m impressed. Tony usually never allows parties of any kind. Which, let’s be realistic, Fenn and Drew violate that rule all the time, but they usually don’t do it outside. Generally, they are more discreet about it.

“Gross.” I narrow my eyes at the guy walking in with a girl I don’t know. “Who invited that weasel?”

I nudge Aspen, who seems to be cracking the plastic cup in her hand. “Huh?” She asks with a frown. I follow the path where she was looking and see a girl from my chem class talking to Bennett. Well, she isn’t talking to him, just standing close in case he wants to pass out or something.

“Malcolm,” I redirect her by pointing to the sniveling waste of space several feet from us. “Did Drew invite him?” There’s excitement in my voice as I ask this question. If there was ever a time I wanted Drew to throw someone out on their ass, now was it. No way did Drew invite Malcolm to his party.

Malcolm Desantis is like the high school bully of MyView.

I know, it’s the internet. Pretty much every other person is a bully, but Malcolm… Malcolm is their king—a wretched and wicked ruler. If he was a character in a horror movie, I would want him to be the first victim who was gutted in the kitchen while he screamed for help in an empty house. But alas, Malcolm isn’t. He’s the psycho who you have to kill eight million times before he dies, and even that might not be enough.

Yeah, he’s that guy. And sadly, since the wars between Sebastian and me have stopped, he’s been the reigning MyView star of Havemeyer.

“Uh…maybe?” she says, still looking at the girl next to Bennett.

I huff. Aspen is useless when it comes to obtaining info. “I bet he bribed one of the baseball guys.” Drew and Fenn’s friends aren’t the best influences.

“Probably,” Aspen agrees, only half listening.

She’s upset. I can feel it. The queen bee of our group isn’t always as strong or as confident as she’d like everyone to think she is. Sometimes she’s just a girl in love with a boy that we can’t nut punch for being a loyal idiot.

“Come on,” I say, pulling her away. “Let’s go play. Kicking the guys’ asses always cheers us up.” It’s true. Nothing excites Aspen more than winning and well, nothing excites me more than being away from Malcolm and the nosy neighbor eyeing me from my own chair.

Aspen nods, and we make our way to the circle of insanity, also known as the kickball field. Think of a baseball field, but instead of dirt-lined base paths, they’re lined with vinyl slides with an inflatable kiddie pool as the base.

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