Hey there Hawks, we’re back with another letter from the editor. But you may notice that this letter isn’t actually being written by Cecilia or Maggie. No, this isn’t a hostage situation, or an early April Fools’ prank. I’m simply here to air out my grievances. When last month’s edition hit the stands, I faced the biggest betrayal of my life. My two sweet best friends teamed up against me to write about their dissatisfaction with my existence. I was blindsided, shocked, appalled, gagged, and furious. Hopefully I can get my word out before Cecilia comes back from lunch. The idiot left her computer unlocked.
Picture this: it’s Monday morning at 8:37 a.m., and I – Zoe Teran – am watching my world fall apart. I’m sitting in second period when a girl comes up to me to talk about the latest issue of the Hawkeye. I had forgotten the latest print had hit the stands and I certainly hadn’t read it yet. As most of our readers know, our current Co-Editors-in-Chief are Cecilia Negash and Maggie O’Hara. I’ve been best friends with Maggie since seventh grade, THAT’S SIX YEARS! And Cecilia TWO YEARS! And in their letter they wrote about how bad they feel for everyone that’s ever had to meet me.
It’s December, and last time I checked, this is the time of year where you show how much you appreciate those you love. Publicly condemning them in the student newspaper is not an effective method of doing that.
I’m not even sure how to respond to such a situation. But I know I want revenge. Annoyingly enough, there isn’t much dirty laundry to air about our current co-editors-in-chief. But guess what? Earlier this year Cecilia lied about saving our graphics editor Rodney Budden from a car crash. She created this elaborate ruse detailing herself as the hero, which I spread proudly. She was absent for days, claiming to be in the hospital recovering from the accident. The whole time I was sick with worry, crying myself to sleep not knowing if she would make it, only to find out she was a fraud. I’m a victim of Cecilia Negash’s pathological lying.
Then there’s Maggie. Oh, where to start with Maggie. Six years of friendship gives you a lot of dirt, but I know her hatred towards me spans back longer than that. It all started in elementary school; innocently, I made friends with the girl I sat beside in sixth grade and we quickly became best friends. Secretly, Maggie was watching my every move.
The year prior she’d had a nasty fallout with the same girl. She hated me, was jealous of how cute my hair was and how I had stolen her best friend. Me? I didn’t even know she existed. One day I’m walking to the bathroom during silent reading time. I love reading, but I really had to pee. I’m walking to the potty and the next thing I notice, I’m on the ground.
Lying on the dirty tiles in agony, I see a nasty little girl gleefully standing above me after having tripped me. She introduced herself as my new archnemesis, Maggie O’Hara. Honestly though, I forgot about the situation by lunch time. One year later we entered seventh grade. I’m sitting at a table beside some random brunette in my humanities block. I know most people might know Maggie as the girl whose head looks like a Pink Lady® apple, but surprisingly enough she was born with brown hair.
Forgetful little me doesn’t remember her sins of the past, doesn’t even remember her face. So I befriended her. Suddenly, we’re having constant sleepovers, I even got an extra bed in my room just for her! But it was all a ploy. Maggie O’Hara was playing the long game, and I was her target. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. She took it way too literal.
As I’m typing this, I hear the bell ringing. My hands are starting to sweat. Lunch is over which means Cecilia will be coming back soon. Oh lord, she’s entering the room right now. I’m clocking out, until next time!
Hey there Hawks (again). I’ve just worked up quite a sweat prying Zoe off of my computer, and when I tried asking her why she was so resistant, she skittered off. My initial confusion has now transitioned to… I don’t even know what. Oh yeah, this is Cecilia by the way. I wouldn’t need to clarify that if it weren’t for the 741 words written above this.
I was actually going to write a semi-serious letter this time, where I talk about the fond memories I have surrounding the winter holidays, maybe talk about how getting snow shoved down my pants was one of my winter traditions. Instead, I’m just going to clear my name out of the mud.
Yes, earlier this year there was a rumor that I got hit by a car. No, this was not started by me. I was home sick for a few days, and Zoe decided to tell our ethnic studies class that I saved Rodney Budden from getting hit by a car in the school parking lot, and was consequently hospitalized. I came back to school, questioning the amount of concerned looks being thrown my way. Needless to say, my questions were eventually answered. Actually, Maggie was involved in starting the rumor too, but considering she got a paragraph completely dragging her through the mud almost three times the size of my paragraph, I’ll lay off her.
Speaking of Maggie, I can’t refute any of the things Zoe said about her because I didn’t know them prior to high school. Maybe everything about her was true, but she’s my business partner so I’ll support her and all her shady endeavors.
It’s probably best if this letter ends on a positive note, despite literally everything going wrong. Maybe there’s a lesson in that. Zoe is still very much our dear friend, even though I’m constantly having to pluck out gray hairs from the stress she causes me. It’s like having an obnoxiously loud pair of socks that you wear when all your other socks are in the wash. You never throw them out because deep down you actually like them. Yeah. That’s the lesson. See you next year, Hawks.
