Imperfect Replacement
The whole school knew I was Derek Hardy's doormat—his loyal little puppy, always trailing behind him no matter what.
But no matter how much he looked down on me, brushed me off, or treated me like I didn't matter, I never left his side.
Until a basketball game, when Derek took a scratch to the face.
I frowned, got to my feet, and muttered under my breath, "Took me forever to find a decent replacement. What a waste."