The first time I saw Stephen, he painted a hex sign on my right arm, and I couldn't move my fingers for three hours. He was in my third grade class, and was constantly bugging me. I got my revenge by making him sing show tunes for an hour straight. That was the beginning.

Our lives continued like this, each of us cursing each other, ruining dates, and messing up looks. We were constantly told to stop acting like three-year-olds, but we just continued the same as always.

Stephen was my arch-enemy up until the eleventh grade. That was when things changed.

I opened my locker one day to find a dead rat hanging by its tail from the ceiling of my locker. I zapped it away, rolling my eyes at mine and Stephen's typical Tuesday morning routine. I knew, and Stephen knew, that later he'd find his locker stuffed with pictures of Miley Cyrus, pre-"Party in the USA." By now, everyone we knew was careful to avoid us on Tuesdays and Thursdays, as those were the days when we were at our worst. I closed my locker and turned to find Stephen, standing there, grinning from ear to ear. I, again, rolled my eyes and pushed past him to get to first period. What was he so dang happy about? Then I remembered. It was the Day. The third Tuesday of March, every year since the sixth grade, I'd have to stand in the school lobby in a yellow polka-dot bikini, cowboy boots, and a rainbow afro, doing the chicken dance for a whole hour. With the entire school watching.

As the spell began to take over, I blushed angrily in the direction I'd seen Stephen go. When I arrived in the lobby, I was shocked to find Stephen, standing there in a polka dot bikini, cowboy boots, and a rainbow afro, waiting to start dancing. I couldn't help but smile at him.

We danced longer than necessary, and when we were done, Stephen and I were good friends.

And so now, every third Tuesday in March, we get together in a public place, yellow bathing suits and all, and chicken dance for an hour. Even after Stephen removed that dang spell.