Blake Thornton’s POV

If you ask anyone at school why I hate Elena Prescott, they will tell you it is because she is annoying. Or weird. Or because she looks at people like she is already three steps ahead and waiting for the rest of us to catch up.

Those answers are not wrong, not exactly.

The truth is, I hate Elena Prescott because she walks around like she knows she is smarter than everyone else and doesn't even bother pretending otherwise. She corrects teachers. She fixes things no one asked her to fix. She talks about experiments like normal people talk about weather. And worst of all, she does it with that calm little smile, like she cannot help being better than you.

Victoria and Joey noticed it long before I did. They were always in my ear, whispering things while fixing their lip gloss in my locker reflection. “She is so weird,” Joey would say. “Always messing with stuff meant for boys.”

“She thinks she is better than us,” Victoria would add, voice sharp like broken glass. “Like we are all stupid and she is some kind of genius.”

I didn't like how true that sounded.

I never cared about grades. I was good at sports. I was good at getting people to laugh. I was good at being loud and present and taking up space. Elena was good at being quiet and still making everyone feel like they were missing something.

That kind of smart makes you feel small, even when you are not.

So yeah. I hated her.

But hatred is complicated when you grow up next door to someone.

My house was never quiet, never. Fred Thornton my father believed silence was a sign something had gone wrong. He played his ACDC music while making breakfast, whistled while brushing his teeth, and talked to me like we were best friends who just happened to be related.

“You ready for the game tonight,” he asked one morning, tossing me a piece of toast.

“I am always ready,” I said.

“That is my boy.”

My mom Jane yelled from the hallway. “If one of you idiots drank the last of my coffee again, I swear to God I will flip this house upside down with you in it.”

“Love you too,” Dad shouted back.

Jane Thornton loved loudly. She swore like a sailor, laughed like it was her job, and hugged hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. When she was mad, the whole street knew. When she was happy, the neighbors probably did too.

Then there was Max.

Five years old. Missing two teeth. Convinced I was the coolest human alive.

“Blake,” he said one afternoon, trailing me like a shadow. “When I grow up, I am going to prank people like you.”

I ruffled his hair. “You already do, dude.”

Max loved the war between me and Elena. He loved it like it was a show just for him. He would sit on the grass between our houses, swinging his legs, watching us plan our attacks like tiny generals.

The thing no one at school knew was that Max adored Elena. “She is funny,” he told me once. “And she lets me press the buttons.”

“She lets you do that because she is dangerous,” I said.

Max grinned. “She is smart dangerous.”

That shut me up.

Elena and Max teamed up against me more times than I could count. Fake spiders. Noise makers. Replacing my phone ringtone with goat screams. And then I would team up with Max to get her back. Flour bombs. Fake tests. That one time we replaced her screensaver with a picture of a hairless cat wearing a crown.

It was war. Loud. Creative. Constant.

Mary Prescott hated every second of it.

I learned that early.

I was eight the first time she caught me and Elena laughing too loudly in the yard. She came out like a storm, heels clicking, lips tight.

“You,” she snapped, pointing at me. “Get away from my daughter.”

“She was laughing,” I said.

“She should not be,” Mary replied coldly. “And you should not be anywhere near her.”

Elena looked confused and hurt.

Mary turned her gaze on me. “You are a bad influence. A loser in the making, just like your family.”

My father had heard. He came outside smiling, but his eyes were hard. “Careful,” he said. “You are talking about my kid.”

Mary sniffed. “I am stating facts.”

After that, she watched me like I was something she needed to scrub off her life.

That never changed.

Which is why sneaking into Elena’s room felt like more than just a prank. It felt personal.

Her bedroom window faced mine. Always had. Between them stood the old tree, thick branches stretching like an invitation. We had climbed it a hundred times as kids. Shared secrets up there. Thrown things at each other’s windows when we were bored.

Tonight, she was inside studying. Or building something weird. I could see the glow of her desk lamp through the glass.

I turned my speakers up and blasted rock music straight at her window until her curtain flew open.

“Are you serious,” she yelled.

I leaned out my window. “You love it.”

“You are the worst.”

“You are welcome.”

She flipped me off and slammed the curtain shut.

Perfect.

I waited until the house went quiet. Until Max was asleep. Until Mom and Dad’s TV murmured low in the living room. Then I grabbed the backpack I had packed earlier.

Inside was the dye. Glitter blue. Washout, technically. But the kind that sticks around way longer than the label promises. I tested it on an old towel. Weeks later, still blue.

I climbed out my window and onto the tree, the bark rough under my hands. The night air was cool. My heart pounded, half excitement, half nerves.

Her window was unlocked. Of course it was. Elena trusted people too much.

I slipped inside.

Her room smelled like books and something sharp and clean. Experiments covered her desk. Notes everywhere. Diagrams I did not understand.

She was asleep on her bed, hair spread across the pillow.

For a second, I hesitated.

Then I remembered Victoria laughing. Joey whispering. Mary calling me a loser.

I went to her bathroom and swapped the conditioner. Easy. Clean. Devastating.

Then I grabbed a marker and drew on her face. Just enough. A mustache. Little stars. A smiley face on her cheek.

I took pictures. A lot of them and tomorrow, the school would lose its mind.

I climbed back out the window, grinning, already imagining her scream.

This was going to be good.

I had no idea it would change everything.