Revenge Is Best Served Cold, Not at Absolute Zero.

Story Submitted by Nestor:

Alana and I were acquaintances growing up, as we had gone through elementary and middle school together. Her mother, Mrs. Boynton, was my seventh-grade teacher, as a matter of fact.

Alana and I grew further apart in high school, and when we went off to different colleges, I guessed that would be the last that I'd hear of her.

Not so. When I was home for winter break, my mother told me that she had bumped into Alana and Mrs. Boynton while at a bookstore, and that Alana had asked about me.

"She's very pretty," my mother told me, "You should call her up."

Why not? It would be nice to catch up, and if she was pretty, well, so much the better.

Alana and I went to a cafe by a park. She was pretty, and had grown at least a few inches since I had seen her last. Her blonde hair was long, and she had a set of blue eyes that I had never recalled really looking at, before.

We caught up about high school, college, etc. I asked her if she was seeing anybody.

She said, "No. Why?"

I imagined kissing her and replied, "Because I think you're cool."

I tapped her arm gently, and she asked, "Want to take a walk?"

We left the cafe, walked down a path, and held hands. I found a side trail and we took it. When we stopped to look at some gopher burrows, I pulled her in for a kiss.

She pushed away and asked, "Do you remember the nickname I had back in grade school?"

"No," I said, anxious to continue with the whole kissing thing.

"'Booger Queen.' Remember it now?"

I did, and couldn't for the life of me understand why she had chosen this, of all moments, to bring it up.

She said, "You gave it to me, remember? In first grade."

I said, "I didn't. I never would have—"

"And now you want to kiss me, oh how the tables have turned."

She wasn't going to bring up something I didn't even remember doing 12 years earlier, was she? She wasn't going to sabotage this whole nice day, was she? She wouldn't.

She would. "Fuck off," she said, then smiled and walked away, as fast as she could. I was so stunned that I didn't even follow her.

When I made it home, my mother told me that Mrs. Boynton, Alana's mother and my former teacher, had called for me and requested that I call her back.

When I did, Mrs. Boynton seemed very angry about something: "Nestor, I think you owe Alana an apology."

"About what?"

"She came home today in tears and said that you called her 'Booger Queen.'"

"I didn't. She lied."

"Alana doesn't lie. I know I'm not your teacher anymore, but if I were grading you at life, Nestor, then I'd give you a failing grade!"

I said, "With all respect, Mrs. Boynton, any failing grade you give should be reserved for Alana's honesty."

She said, "Okay. Goodbye, Nestor," and hung up.

Mrs. Boynton was a good teacher in the classroom. It's a shame that she didn't seem to teach her daughter how to be a dignified, functioning member of society.