Quetta was my high school sweetheart. She was a pretty brown-skinned girl with long, natural hair. In the presence of others, she was always friendly and approachable. No one knew her dark side.
I remember as clear as day the time she stared at me in class. She kept making sexual gestures. I did not know what to think. I knew her, but we were not friends or lovers.
“I want to see your penis,” she said one day after class.
So, we found an empty class and I pulled it out. It was already stiff with anticipation. Quetta smiled and nodded, like an evil genius in a meth lab. From there, our relationship blossomed.
Months later, I was checking my email on her home computer. She noticed how many of our classmates’ email addresses I had.
“Together we have everybody’s email address in the school,” she said, lifting an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t it be funny if we made a teasing email about some students and sent it to everyone?”
What started out as a joke became reality. We created a list of 10 people to make fun of, many of whom were Quetta’s friends. The list went something like this: Nina the Stanky Pussy Baboon. Bradon Booty-Busting Hend. Josh Rump-Rider Daniels. The list goes on.
The next day, our email blast was the talk of the school. The principal called an emergency assembly. He vowed to get to the bottom of the email scandal and expel whoever was responsible. Quetta and I laughed.
The next day, another assembly was called and the principal told us that he now had the ISP information the email came from. He urged the guilty party to come forward and he would be lenient.
Days later, Quetta and I decided to turn ourselves in. One of the other students heard us partially confess and told everyone else. Most of Quetta’s friends wanted to fight her. Quetta was no fighter. She denied sending the email. We were suspended for 10 days.
Throughout this whole thing, I was not afraid. But I found Quetta had a devious side. She could not be trusted. It would take more for me to realize how dangerous she was.