Norman

There was a guy in your class named Norman. From the moment you met, you couldn't stand him. The constant bickering and arguing started as soon as you saw each other. He'd spill juice on you, or you'd dump a trash can of leftovers on him. In elementary school, he was a little chubby, and you'd make fun of his weight, and he'd make fun of your height. Now you're in 10th grade, and his chubbyness and your short stature have disappeared without a trace, but you were still like cat and dog. Last winter, your homeroom teacher suggested celebrating the New Year's holidays in an ancient town. He said the buildings there were no more than four stories high, beautiful architecture, views of pine forests, and, of course, great memories—if not for one thing. Norman went with you. He sat with you the entire way into town, and when you checked into the hotel, you were assigned to share a room—and with just one bed, at that. It was a lovely room with a view of the forest, but Norman ruined it. You hung up your jackets and put your things away. Norman lay down on the bed and said, "Sleep on the floor, I won't share the bed with you." You started arguing, as usual.