Hate Is Such a Strong Word...

by Sarah Ayoub

  20

  I hate it when I give a part of myself away … with no guarantee of the outcome

  Even though I haven’t spoken to Leila for a couple of weeks, I still feel grateful to her every time I go to work. It feels good to be able to whinge about customers for a change instead of always whingeing about my life. Especially when I’m on front desk and have to deal with people telling ridiculous lies in order to get refunds and listen to the heated arguments about what can and can’t be exchanged.

  Shehadie is on front desk with me today, and by the end of the shift he’s made me laugh so hard my stomach hurts. I can see why they put him here – his easygoing, blokey nature soothes customers who are angry about a faulty appliance or mismatched curtain packs. He has an innate ability to calm people down, not to mention those amazing eyes that practically intoxicate customers into submission.

  As we file the end-of-day paperwork, I realise that I’ve begun to relish moments alone with him. Right now he’s poking fun at just how quickly my friendship with Dora broke down as soon as she got a taste of Vanessa and Rita’s style of popularity.

  ‘The sad thing is, they’re the only ones who buy into it,’ he says. ‘I bet you eighty per cent of the people in our grade couldn’t care less about them, but they can’t be bothered changing the status quo so they don’t put them in their place.’

  I shrug. ‘I don’t know, but to be honest, I don’t think I even blame her anymore. And I really don’t want to whinge about it, either – I need to remind myself that I’m not the teenager of the year, you know? There are heaps of girls my age going through the same teenage crap – well, not exactly the same, but similar.’

  ‘As in, they don’t have Dictator Dad?’ he says, smiling.

  ‘Exactly right!’ I laugh. ‘I’m pretty sure that all my teenage melodrama can be channelled into something that will benefit me in the long run. I just need to work out what that something is.’

  ‘Well, you’re not going to find it studying accounting, that’s for sure,’ he says. ‘I don’t understand why you’re even going to preference that. Haven’t you looked through the UAC guide? There’s got to be a course that’ll harness all that pent-up cynicism you wear as your badge.’

  ‘I don’t think I need career advice from a guy who claims he doesn’t want to make plans for tomorrow, let alone next year.’

  ‘Sophie,’ he says, ‘my mother died in her prime. There’s a reason I don’t make plans – I don’t believe in them. You don’t know what the next minute has in store for you, so why set yourself up for disappointment.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with being optimistic,’ I say.

  ‘Right, because the girl who spends her days tabulating everything that’s wrong with the world and listening to teen-angst music is suddenly the poster girl for optimism.’ He laughs. ‘I can just picture you a year from now, sitting in an accounting lecture with all these nerds, bored out of your brain but still wearing that defiant cloak of sarcasm and invisibility, because deep down you’re afraid that someone will see through it to the looker that you are and break your heart.’

  I stare at him, bewildered. ‘Say what now?’

  ‘You heard me. Behind that facade about being all hatey and mean, you’re just afraid someone will notice you, fall for you and then let you down by not being on your level. You don’t give people a chance because you won’t even trust yourself with one.’

  ‘Shut up,’ I scoff, rifling through a trolley filled with stuff that needs to be returned to the shelves or to the supplier.

  Just then, Casey waltzes in, holding a copy of Girlfriend and followed by Jordan.

  ‘Aren’t you too old to be reading that?’ Jordan asks her. ‘And, more importantly, too old to be doing those silly quizzes?’

  ‘It’s a good mag and the quizzes are fun,’ she says. ‘Come on, we’ll all do one.’

  ‘Um, did you actually buy that, or are you borrowing again?’ Shehadie says sternly.

  ‘I’ll put it back straight after,’ she says, hands together as if in prayer. ‘I promise.’

  Shehadie shakes his head and rolls his eyes, and I wonder how it feels to be caught between being their friend and their team leader.

  ‘Okay,’ Casey says. ‘You’ve been dating your crush for a few months now and his bestie tells you he’s going to ask you to …’ She stops and looks at me. ‘Ah, these are silly, let’s not worry about it,’ she says, her face reddening slightly.

  ‘No way!’ Jordan says, snatching the magazine off her. ‘You can’t just start then stop. I’ll do it.’ He clears his throat and starts reading aloud.

  Casey mouths the word ‘sorry’ to me, but I don’t understand until Jordan finishes the rest of the sentence.

  ‘… his bestie tells you he’s going to ask you to do it, but you’re not ready. What do you tell him?’ He looks up at us, smirking. ‘It wouldn’t matter what she told me,’ he says, ‘because I’d be outta there. A guy has needs, you know.’

  I can feel my face getting hot. I’m uncomfortable having this conversation, and everyone except Jordan senses it.

  ‘You know how it is, man, don’t you?’ he goes on, turning to Shehadie and elbowing him.

  ‘Not really,’ Shehadie responds. ‘I guess if I really liked her, I’d wait. Some things are worth waiting for.’

  His frankness stuns us all and we’re silent. Shehadie shrugs like he doesn’t care.

  We’re saved by Casey’s phone ringing. ‘Woohoo, my brother’s here,’ she says. ‘Finally I get to leave this dump and go home. No offence, guys.’

  I laugh. ‘None taken. Enjoy your night.’

  Jordan follows her, leaving Shehadie and me alone. My curiosity gets the better of me.

  ‘Did you mean that?’ I ask. ‘What you just said about waiting?’

  ‘Well, I’ve read enough good fiction to know that there’s lust and then there’s love.’

  What does that even mean? Why couldn’t he just say yes or no like a normal person? Or is this how he gets all the girls to fall for him?

  I feel proud of myself for seeing right through him, until he reaches over to get the stapler and his hand brushes against my waist. My breath catches. He’s looking at me intently and holding his position close to me. I can smell his aftershave and suddenly I’m dying and I don’t know why. I was in love with Zayden Malouf for so long, but this much nerdier guy is making my heart beat faster than Zayden ever did.

  I need to break the intensity, so I laugh at him and say something stupid. ‘You’re weird. I mean, you’re eighteen – you’re genetically programmed to want to get physical. As far as I know, only boys who pray the rosary want to wait.’

  He smirks and moves away, not looking at me as he staples a bunch of receipts to the end-of-day paperwork.

  ‘I see you’ve had your head in the health books – shame you’re not doing PDHPE for the HSC.’

  I make a face at him and he laughs.

  ‘Well, you did say it yourself,’ I point out. ‘Need I remind you of our conversation about The Bronze Horseman?’

  His voice softens. ‘See, I don’t even need to say anything. You already know it all.’

  ‘Do I?’ I ask quietly.

  ‘Does it matter what I think or say anyway? Really?’

  I shrug.

  ‘I don’t pray the rosary and I don’t know if I want to wait,’ he says. ‘But like I said, it all depends on the girl. I might think the same way that Jordan does only to find a game-changer right under my nose, right?’

  He winks at me and I don’t know how to respond. I’m freaked out about the way he’s looking at me. So I just stand there, trying to keep my cool, even though I could melt under his gaze.

  ‘I want to wait until I’m married,’ I tell him, because I can’t think of anything else to say. But as soon as it’s out there I want to take it back.

  But he responds in a way that only Shehadie Goldsmith would. ‘Because you want to, or because that’s what’s
expected?’

  I’m impressed, not only because he’s questioning my motivation, but also because he makes me want to question it.

  ‘Because that’s what God expects,’ I say finally.

  ‘Again with something that someone else wants and not something you’ve put thought into,’ he says.

  ‘God isn’t someone, thank you very much.’

  He puts the paperwork down and turns to me, speaking slowly. ‘But someone told you they’re the rules that God expects you to follow. You have to find your own reason in the rules, Soph, because only then will you be a hundred and ten per cent happy with your decision and actually see it through. Otherwise it’ll stop mattering.’

  I resent his tone for a second because it makes me feel like a fool. But then I stop and consider what he’s really saying.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘It just seems less complicated that way. There’s reason in the rules, right? No STIs, no pregnancies, no one bitching about what I’ve done and who with. And certainly not the stress about who I might be wasting it on. If a guy loves me enough to wait for me, then I know that if we get married he’s not going to walk out at the first sign of trouble.’

  He looks at me, one eyebrow raised. ‘That’s not the reason and we both know it.’

  ‘Fine,’ I say in a huff. ‘Because it’s mine, and I want to give it away when I’ve made a solid commitment that I believe is unbreakable.’ I turn away to tidy the desk, unable to look at him. ‘To me, it’s an actual part of myself, and I want to wait until I’m married because I want to believe that the guy I marry deserves it. It’s romanticised and perhaps a little clichéd and all the more outdated, but I guess that’s the reason I’m content with.’

  I feel his breath on my neck as he leans in to whisper in my ear and I think I could die on the spot.

  ‘I reckon I could live with that,’ he murmurs.

  And then he’s back doing his job like we didn’t just have the biggest conversation ever, and I envy him for being so cool when I feel like I’ve just given my soul away.

  I play the conversation over and over in my head on the way home, increasingly mortified and confused. Somehow I’m certain that things between us will never be the same again … and I’m not sure how ready I am for things to change.

  21

  I hate it when I’m caught completely off guard

  As the year moves beyond July, people in my grade start turning eighteen. Dad is more lenient about parties that are held in the home of the birthday girl or boy, because they’re local, he knows the parents will be there, and the parties are on private property. I suppose the fact that he can figure out what village a person is from based on their last name also helps.

  One Saturday night I find myself heading to Joseph El-Bashir’s party with Sue, Nicole, Thomas and Jacob. Dad lets me go in Jacob’s car because we’re a group, which is ironic because Jacob has decided that tonight is the night he’ll do something radical, which will probably turn out to be driving all of us home after curfew on his P-plates. Considering we’re all goody two-shoes at heart, we get a thrill out of pretending it’s actually going to happen, all the while knowing that Sue will get bored an hour into the party and go home, and the rest of us will likely leave separately. I laugh to myself as I think how everyone in our class, and perhaps even our teachers, assumes that Sue is an uncool nerd, when actually she’s the coolest person I know. Sue is top of our grade and incredibly smart, and the only reason she comes to these things in the first place is because her mum makes her.

  ‘Hey, Sue,’ I call out from the front seat without turning around. I’m looking in the mirror for the seventeenth time since Jacob picked us up. ‘What time do you have to stay till tonight?’

  I see her roll her eyes in the mirror. ‘Ten thirty,’ she replies.

  ‘How come your mum’s downgraded from eleven?’ asks Jacob.

  ‘Now that I’m eighteen and involved in student politics, she knows I’m getting some socialising done elsewhere so she’s happy.’

  ‘Aww, that means one less person to break P-plate legislation with me,’ Jacob says.

  ‘So whose party are we at tonight?’ Sue asks.

  ‘Do you really have no idea?’ says Nicole. She shakes her head and smiles. ‘Not that I’d have you any other way.’

  Jacob parks the car almost a block away and we walk up a laneway that leads into the backyard. Joseph’s clearly already drunk and Sue makes a face when she sees him.

  ‘It’s his eighteenth,’ Jacob says, mocking her. ‘Get over it, he’s legal.’

  ‘Yes, legally an idiot,’ she says. ‘He couldn’t even understand my two-word greeting: Happy and Birthday.’

  ‘And he dropped his present on the floor. Twice,’ I point out.

  ‘Whatevs,’ Jacob says. ‘There’s just no pleasing you women.’

  I look around the yard and see Zayden laughing with Dora and Rita. I wonder why Vanessa isn’t with them. But it isn’t Vanessa I’m searching for.

  Jacob leans in and whispers in my ear. ‘He’s here. Can you relax and have fun now?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say, smiling.

  He gives my shoulder an affectionate squeeze, and I’m so thankful I don’t have to use up my energy explaining or denying anything to my friends, because they already know how I’m feeling.

  Suddenly I spot him, in a corner of the yard, looking better than I could ever have imagined, in dark jeans, grey vans and a simple pale blue T-shirt. He knows that he’s been busted staring at me and his cheeks turn a light pink, which makes him even better-looking and I hate him for it. He smirks at me as he takes a sip of his beer, and I know that he’s pretending to listen to whatever Georgina Simons and Katia Akkari are saying to him. I curse myself for being jealous of them.

  I do my best to mingle, but it takes too much energy so I go inside to feign interest in the TV. At ten, Sue comes over to tell me she’s leaving. I beg her to stay a little while longer.

  ‘Seriously, Soph, I can’t be bothered,’ she says. ‘Nicole’s still here with her cousins from Mackillop, so you’re not totally alone. I think they’re dancing outside. You should totally go out there and hang with them instead of sitting in here and pretending you’re watching the football.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘The music’s so loud I can’t handle it.’

  ‘Soph, it’s like you’re seventeen going on seventy. What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Says the girl who has to be bribed to stay at a party?’ I say, hugging her goodbye.

  We laugh and she promises to call tomorrow.

  I make my way outside, and grab a Vodka Cruiser before heading to the darkest part of the yard and leaning against the fence. Out of the corner of my eye I see a guy in Year Eleven making out with some chick from another school, so I inch along the fence a little to stand by a group that I know won’t talk to me. I scan the party for Jacob, but it’s Shehadie who comes over to stand next to me.

  ‘No, I don’t want to dance, and yes, someone’s sitting there,’ I say, pointing to a chair beside me.

  ‘Should you be drinking that?’ he asks, nodding towards the bottle in my hand.

  ‘Probably not. But it’s my second one, and I don’t plan on stopping until I’ve tried all the flavours.’

  ‘Wow,’ he says, placing one arm on the fence and leaning in closer. I’m sure I see some girls swooning across the yard. ‘The world can barely handle you sober. Imagine the personality traits that’ll shine through if you’re drunk? Oh, the horror!’ He feigns fear.

  ‘What world, Shehadie?’

  ‘This world,’ he says, indicating himself.

  ‘So you’re the world now, are you?’

  ‘Your world, for sure, but you’ll realise that eventually.’

  ‘Do you ever get sick of your own smugness?’ I ask.

  ‘Not a chance, baby.’

  I smile and take another sip of my drink. ‘Shouldn’t you be hanging around with people who appreciate your co
mpany a little more?’

  I don’t want him to leave, though, and I think he knows it. I guess this is the only way we know how to be with each other.

  ‘Maybe,’ he says, shrugging. ‘But I doubt they’d benefit from my charm and good looks as much as you will.’

  I nearly choke on my drink and spit some out.

  ‘Classy,’ he says. ‘Would’ve been really good if some of it had landed on Rita. I’d love to see you in a fight. With all that angst, you could really do some damage.’

  I shoot him a look.

  ‘Just like the damage you did in the debate,’ he goes on. ‘It was good to hear your real voice in class for a change.’

  ‘Somehow I don’t think everyone shares that opinion.’

  ‘That’s because they can’t see past their own noses.’

  I’m quiet. He busts me staring at Zayden and I look away.

  ‘Why him, Soph?’ he asks. ‘He’s so not right for you.’

  I have to hand it to him: he’s honest about what he thinks. I don’t want to tell him I’ve already gone off Zayden and have the hots for him, partly because it would complicate what we have, partly because I don’t want to believe it, and mostly because I wouldn’t know what to do if he felt the same way. So instead I reply with my usual stupid banter.

  ‘How can you presume to know what’s right for me? You haven’t known me that long.’

  ‘I feel like I’ve known you my whole life,’ he says simply. ‘And I know he’s beneath you.’

  I swallow and look up at him. He’s gazing at me intently, and this time it’s my face that goes red. I don’t know what to say, so I fold my arms and stare out at the dance floor again. Shehadie looks defeated.

  But then Pitbull’s ‘Give Me Everything’ comes on and I take it as a sign, because the beat makes me feel blissfully crazy when I dance and gives me a confidence I don’t ordinarily have.

  ‘Okay, Mr Smugness,’ I say, turning to face him and stretching out my hand. ‘Dance with me.’

  My head is saying, ‘What are you doing, fool?’ but my heart is beating so fast and Shehadie is gazing at me with a strange mixture of fascination and confusion. And then we’re in the middle of the dance floor and I’m miming the words and dancing like I’m in some sort of video clip, all the while wondering if it’s my illegal consumption of alcohol that’s ignited the confidence in me … but not caring.