fuck this.

The sun sent streaks of light through my window, burning my skin. Shit. It stings. It's not fair that we're stuck without air conditioning just because Mr. Taylor said that we don't deserve it. If anyone doesn't, it's them. I wasn't the one who used up all the power supply on the ranch trying to blow dry the beer pong table so they could use it for the July 4th party. Mr. Taylor lived in a land of hypocrisy. He knew damn well that it was Gertrude Taylor who had that stupid idea, not me or Sofia, but he didn't care.

It's always hot in Dublin. Irish capital of Texas, my ass. They say Ireland is cold most of the year; here, it rarely gets any colder than seventy-five degrees. I've never known snow. As you might have guessed, I much prefer the cold than the heat, primarily because of its exoticism for me and the poorer people in Dublin. It's rare that we experience it, especially since people like Mr. Taylor control the supply of cold air, and those people tend to be selfish and hypocritical. I hate them.

Gertrude Taylor inherited her father's brains. She's rather dull; when she tried to blow dry the beer pong table, she didn't even spread the heat evenly along the table, so only the section reading "Jesus 5eva" dried. Plus, the sun is so strong here that she could have left it out for an hour, tops, and it would have dried completely. Bitch. Now we're out of AC for the week.

Sofia and I have had some sort of a rivalry with her since third grade, when she stole our lunches and teased us about our non-white families. So naturally, when she blew the power, she blamed us. And who'd believe the word of a hispanic girl and an asian girl over the daughter of the richest white family in town? No one.

The only place to go when it's hot out and you don't have a fucking pool in your backyard (in the case of the Taylors and whoever they choose to invite over) is the Bosque River. Sofia and I drove over early this morning, jumping into the cool water over and over until our fingers and toes were raisins that had over dried in the sun.

But now, it was day and we both had returned home, since our parents had full work schedules ahead of them: my parents at the one asian grocery within 100 miles, and Sofia's father at the construction site, where nearly all lower-class men worked for minimum wage.

As I sat by the window, a feeling of resentment, hotter than the sun on my face, kept boiling inside me, and I kept wanting to punch the wall (except I knew I couldn't, since they're prone to breaking). I despised Gertrude and her two brothers for having everything, especially when they deserved nothing. They stripped it all from us. They took away everything that we had. Why were over half the townspeople stuck in these shacks with half broken walls and horrid electricity, when the "select few," as Mr. Taylor put it, lived in gorgeous white homes with upright columns and multiple stories?

It's shit, is what it was. "Fuck this," I said, standing abruptly and wiping my palms on my shorts.

"What?" Sofia asked, obviously confused by my outbreak. Most of the time I tended to keep my opinions to myself, so this was a rarity.

"Fuck this- fuck having nothing. We don't deserve air conditioning? Then neither do they."

Sofia looked concerned. "Leah, what are you doing?"

I grinned. "Stay here. Give me ten minutes, then call the police saying that you saw a suspicious man walk by the house. I'll be back." She nodded curiously, but let me brush by her as I made a beeline for the Taylors' generator, about a quarter of a mile away.

I thanked God for making me enroll in that online engineering course last summer, because it meant I knew how to shut off their power, and I tried to hide my smile as I walked nonchalantly down the street, crossing into their backyard through a hole in the back fence.

Shit, I whispered, as I saw Gertrude and her friends only a few yards away, trying to perfect their runway walks for the pageant as the guys watched. I stayed as quiet as I could while I deactivated their generator. Good. It would stay off for at least a week, by which time we'd get power back. Smiling, I slipped through the fence again. Luckily, they were too ignorant and oblivious to notice me.

My breath caught as I turned around to glance back at them over the fence. Will Taylor, the least obnoxious of Gertrude's brothers, caught my eye and winked. I just hoped he wouldn't say anything, and sunk down on my knees on the other side of the fence.

Will Taylor was ... complicated. He was a year older than Gertrude, and definitely looked it. I could probably count twenty girls who liked him-- but not me. I made a vow that I wouldn't date a single guy from that side of town. They were all too stuck up, and, to make matters worse, nearly every single one was a dick to girls.

Will Taylor asked me out two years ago. I slapped him and ran away, and we haven't talked since. But he took the blame for the red welt on his cheek. He didn't blame me. I've never understood why he didn't take revenge on me. Why did it need to be Will? I kept asking myself. If only someone else had seen me.

"Shit!" I whispered, only then realizing that I'd been caught tampering with the generator. But it was too late. Someone else slipped under the fence. Will. Taylor. I wanted to scream.

"Leah Lee," he whispered, smiling.

"Shut the fuck up-" I responded, until he put his finger to my lips, silencing me. "Will-"

"Stop. Get outta here, before Gertrude realizes I'm gone and comes looking for me."

I nodded, and hastily stood up, but he pulled me back down. "Not letting you go without a kiss," he smirked. "You owe me."

I sighed. Some part of me wanted to resist, but a large part of me wanted to kiss him. It was the weirdest feeling, and I hated it. I hated him for making me feel this way.

"Fine," I whispered, and attempted to peck him on the lips, but he pulled me in closer, making it nearly into a makeout session. It felt like stars and explosions and magic, and for some reason, I couldn't stop.

I was only jolted back to reality when I heard Gertrude call Will's name, and I stumbled backwards with a stupid grin on my face. Will looked the same way.

By the time I made it back to Sofia, I could already hear the shouts from Gertrude Taylor, her shrieks piercing the air louder than any siren I'd ever heard. Sofia looked at me questioningly.

"What?" I said, laughing. "They deserved it. Now we're even." But I still couldn't stop thinking about Will, and the fact that he'd saved me. Again.