“Wow…” Dae’s dark brown eyes met mine. “That’s… To be honest, I don’t even know what to say.”
“I know, right? It’s totally not fair. I mean, I know I shouldn’t have thrown the mashed potatoes, but Fuller and his teammates, minus Brandon, are always pulling stupid crap like that, and they never get in trouble. At least, not real trouble. I do it once and bam! I’m stuck deciding if I want a permanent mark on my record and screwing STEM camp, or tutoring the most arrogant boy in the entire school. Not to mention, the person responsible for giving me the worst nickname ever. I mean, he hasn’t even started reading The Hate U Give, and our topics are due in two days.” My chest rose and fell dramatically. “He didn’t even have a pen or a pencil with him. Who does that?”
“Take a deep breath,” Dae instructed. “He’s a total douche, but let’s put things into perspective. What’s the end goal?”
I let my head fall back against the headrest. “I have to tutor him until he brings his grade up to at least a C minus. He should be able to do that with good grades on this paper and a few assignments.”
Dae grabbed my hand. “That should take only, what, like a week or two?”
“There’s only a week and a half until the season opener.” I closed my eyes and rubbed my face.
“That’s only nine days.” Dae squeezed my hand. “You can totally handle nine days.”
“You’re right. It’s not that long.” Even though it would feel like an eternity, if Fuller did the work and brought up his grade, I’d be rid of him before the first game. “As long as he brings his grade up. Otherwise, we’re going to have to come up with a backup plan; there’s no way I’m going to get saddled with tutoring him for the foreseeable future.”
“Let’s stick with the nine-day goal. That means spending forty-five minutes a day with him for nine days, so that comes to, what?” Dae stared at the ceiling of my car, attempting to solve the math problem in his head.
“Six hours and forty-five minutes,” I said, letting my arms fall to my sides.
“See, that’s less than seven hours. That’s not even one full school day. You can totally handle that, right?”
“I guess.”
“Focus on getting through it, one day at a time, and then you’ll never have to talk to him again,” Dae said with a smile. “Except when you’re yelling at him from the stands. Plus, you and I both know that you want them to win the state championship again.”
“Yeah. You’re right, Dae. Thanks for the pep talk.” If Fuller acted like a decent human being, I’d survive the next nine days. On the other hand, if he continued to slack off and act like a moron, there’s no way he’d bring his grade up in time, and my uncle would be majorly disappointed in me.
Even worse, I’d be stuck with Fuller James for who knew how long.
Now that would be a nightmare.
Chapter Four
Fuller
The shrill sound from Coach’s whistle echoed against the gym walls. “Warm-up time. Ten laps.”
Some of the guys groaned, but I didn’t care. Running around the gym helped clear my head. Which, after working with Wren today, I really needed. I’d never felt so guilty in my entire life. Making a stupid bet that could end only one way—badly.
Plus, I was still furious with myself for letting my grade slip down to an F in the first place. I could make a list of excuses, but it came down to one thing, I simply didn’t have time to read everything the teachers assigned us, do all my homework, go to practice, and work out in my spare time. At least Wren had told me about those audiobook things. I’d be able to listen to the book tonight after practice.
I started out slow, the gym floor squeaking under my sneakers, but I quickly picked up the pace. Most mornings, I got up at five o’clock and ran outside for an hour before heading back to the house, showering, and going to school to shoot buckets until seven thirty. I was usually the only one in the gym at that time. It was my sanctuary.
Now I’d gone and messed everything up. My chest tightened as I thought about sitting on the bench instead of playing in the game.
A hand on my shoulder caused me to flinch. Turning around, I came face-to-face with TyShaun, who had caught up to me, taking matching strides. “You really think you’re going to score with Wrentainer?”
Every muscle in my body tensed. “What did you just say?”
“You and Wrentainer? Magnolia Valley’s newest couple?”
I grimaced, forcing myself to inhale and exhale slowly before responding.
“Well?” TyShaun pressed. “What happened? Did you hit your head on something last night?” He stared into my eyes. “Do you have a concussion?”
“That bet was supposed to stay between Marc and me.” I picked up the pace, leaving TyShaun several steps behind me.
“Hold up, hold up.” His shoes squeaked as he caught up with me. “You’re telling me that you don’t have some kind of head trauma? You’re actually into her?”
My muscles started to burn as my quads and hamstrings pumped. “No head trauma. But keep your voice down.” Crap. How could Marc blab about this to TyShaun? We had been friends since kindergarten. TyShaun and I were friends, too, but I didn’t trust him like I did Marc.
TyShaun shook his head. “You’re going after Wrentainer, but you don’t want anyone to know?”
“Whatever, she’s got legs for days and her face isn’t bad, either. Plus, she’ll help pass the time until Marissa and I get back together.” My throat felt thick. I hated lying anywhere, but it was the absolute worst to lie while on the court. After all, the gym was like my church. It was practically sacrilegious to lie here. But I couldn’t help myself. It had been only a few hours and I was already in too deep. Failing a class, being forced to work with Wren, the bet, what was next?
I wanted to clear the air. Tell my teammates what was really going on and promise them that I’d have it taken care of before the season started, but I’d given Coach my word. I wouldn’t let him or the guys down.
That’s when it dawned on me—the perfect excuse. “And she’s Coach’s niece. He’d definitely bench me if he found out.”
TyShaun nodded. “Ah, that makes sense. All right, all right. I won’t say anything to anyone else. Your somewhat disturbing secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks, Ty.” I hoped he was done talking about Wren, but that dream went down the toilet two seconds later. “So, you two are hooking up during study hall? In the library?” He had a big grin on his face. “That’s ballsy. Even for you.”
I shook my head and focused on my stride. Hopefully TyShaun would get the hint and stop asking me about Wren. The chances weren’t great, though; we’d talked about previous hookups. If this wasn’t a massive lie, it wouldn’t be any different. While I hadn’t told any of the guys on the team about it, I planned on dropping the charade next year at college. Sure, I still wanted to go out and meet girls, but I wasn’t going to brag about my conquests in the locker room. It made me sound immature, and it left me feeling a little sick.
Brandon jogged past us, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. Thank goodness. He and Wren were close. He wouldn’t hesitate to tell her the moment practice was over, and then she’d definitely refuse to work with me. I’d be royally screwed.
TyShaun raised an eyebrow. “Listen, whatever you want to do is your business. But if you’re going through some kind of quarter-life crisis, let me know. We can get you help.” He threw his head back and laughed. “The team would fall apart without you, bro. So you do whatever, or whoever, you need to in order to keep in top form.”
Instead of responding, I shoved him and sprinted forward.
The rest of practice flew by. By the time Coach told us to hit the showers, I was sweaty and exhausted. I’d given it my all, like I always did, and even though I normally stayed for at least an hour afterward to shoot baskets, I had to head
home and get going on my homework.
Plus, I needed to do some brainstorming and figure out a way to get out of the bet without giving up my secret or destroying my pride.
Coach blew his whistle. “Fuller, I need to talk to you for a minute.”
“Yes, sir.” I jogged over to him.
The rest of the guys walked by me. Marc made sure to spin around once Coach’s back was to him. He mouthed “Wrentainer” and made stupid kissing motions, then burst into laughter, and TyShaun joined in.
Good thing my face was already red from practice. These two were obviously going to humiliate me every chance they got. I’d have to take it, though. I couldn’t risk anyone else finding out.
“How did the tutoring session go today?” Coach’s face looked pensive, like he was preparing for me to tell him Wren had already given up on me.
“Good, sir. Wren gave me several areas to focus on while brainstorming the topic for our next Lit paper. She’s really smart and helpful.” I might be laying it on a little thick, but every word I uttered was true. That made the guilt of the bet sting a little less.
He kept his arms planted firmly across his chest. “You know this is serious, right? If you don’t bring your grade up, you’re riding the bench.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
Coach gave me a curt nod. “That’s all.”
“Thank you, sir.” I turned around and headed for the locker room.
“You aren’t staying late to shoot free throws tonight?” Coach arched an eyebrow.
I shrugged. “Actually, I’m going to head home. I’ve got to read nine chapters of a book, or um, listen to it, and I have math homework, too.”
Coach’s expression softened. “I’m glad to hear you’re taking this to heart, Fuller.”
…
The scent of garlic bread floated across the kitchen table. My stomach promptly grumbled in response.
The light gray walls in the dining room were cluttered with family photos. Enshrined forever were happy trips to Yellowstone National Park and framed pictures from a vacation to Washington, D.C. My parents always insisted on taking family photos, some serious and others totally goofy, every time we went somewhere new. They had rows of homemade scrapbooks lining the bookshelves in their bedroom and offices.
“How was school today, honey?” Mom passed me a large bowl of pasta.
“Good.” I scooped several heaping servings onto my plate, burying the blue flower design in the center.
My little brother giggled from across the table, his light brown eyes flashing with interest. He took after our mom in the looks department, and I took after my dad.
Clearing his throat, Dad caught Mom’s gaze. “Hudson, can you do us a favor and grab the pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator?”
He scrunched up his nose and grinned. “You’re in so much trouble.”
“Hudson,” Mom said in a firm voice. “Lemonade, now.”
Getting off his chair, his little feet hit the floor. “I know. I know. I’ll take my time.”
As soon as he disappeared around the corner, Mom and Dad turned toward me.
“Fuller, how could you be doing so poorly in AP Literature class? You’ve never failed a class before!” Mom’s eyes were wide and her brow furrowed.
Of course Principal Davis would let them know… It couldn’t have been a complete surprise to them. They’d been on me when my grade dropped from a B to a C and again when it went from C to a D, but I’d promised to bring it up. A promise, it turns out, that I couldn’t keep.
“I—I—” Unable to come up with an excuse, I let my head fall. The homemade bunny salt-and-pepper shakers in the middle of the wooden table didn’t offer any brilliant answers, so I remained quiet.
“I don’t want to hear excuses. This is your only AP class.” My dad frowned. “Principal Davis told us that Coach’s niece will be tutoring you until you’ve raised your grade back up.”
“Yes, sir.” I struggled to get the words out. Not only were my parents upset with me, but I’d made a terrible bet that could end up hurting someone who didn’t deserve it.
“We want a daily report. Details of what you covered in class, what you did in your tutoring session, and a rundown of your homework.” Dad crossed his arms. He looked at me like Coach had before I left practice.
Shoulders drooping, I replied. “Yes, sir.”
“You need to set a better example for your little brother.”
Mom’s words stung. She was right.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hudson walked back into the room with a glass pitcher balanced in between his small hands. “Are you done being disappointed in Fuller?” He pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a grin.
“Your brother is going to do much better in school,” Mom said, shooting me a look that could stop a freight train in its tracks. “Isn’t that right, Fuller?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hudson poured himself a glass of lemonade. “Do you have a lot of homework tonight or can we play some Fortnite?”
Without looking, I could feel my dad’s eyes burn into me.
I shook my head. “Sorry, buddy. I have a lot of reading to do. Rain check?”
His little shoulders slumped. “Okay.” I hated disappointing my parents, but I hated letting my brother down even more.
After covering my pasta in Dad’s homemade spaghetti sauce and adding a heaping portion of baked asparagus to my plate, I tucked into my food. Grateful for the chewing-induced silence, I ate my meal as quickly as possible.
Less than ten minutes later, I excused myself and headed up to my room with my backpack slung over my shoulder.
My bedroom walls were covered in posters of my favorite basketball players. Everyone from Michael Jordan to LeBron James. One day I wanted to be on a poster, posing in my NBA jersey, being a role model for kids across the world.
But first, homework.
I grabbed my laptop and flipped open the cover. All I needed to do was read over the themes that Wren had given me during study hall and then binge listen to the book. I figured I could do push-ups and sit-ups while listening, maybe even knock out some of my math homework.
“Crap.” I frantically scrolled through my open document. My notes were nowhere to be found. Somehow they’d disappeared. Always save your work. My elementary school computer teacher’s words rung in my head. After trying every trick I knew, I sighed in frustration. There was only one option left: ask Wren. I mean, if I didn’t report back to her on the topics she’d given me, I’d be totally screwed. She’d probably march right into Principal Davis’s office and demand that he suspend both of us.
I picked up my phone, but quickly realized that I didn’t have her number. Instagram, she’s got to have an Instagram account. After typing her name into the app, her account popped up. Dang it. It was set to private.
My finger hovered over the follow button. If anyone found out that I followed Wren, everyone in school would go nuts. Whatever, I can follow her and then unfollow her as soon as she sends me the themes. I tapped the blue follow button and waited. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. I checked the time and exhaled. I couldn’t wait much longer. If I did, I’d have to stay up until three in the morning listening to the book.
I cursed myself for not paying better attention to Wren. I remembered racism was one of the themes, but what were the others? Something about community injustice? No, that wasn’t right…
Pacing back and forth in my room, I laid out my options. Someone else could have similar notes, but would they be the same as Wren’s? Probably not. If I had to spend time studying, I needed to focus on the right topics. Otherwise, it could be a massive waste of time. I could call Brandon and ask for her number, but that would bring up too many questions. I couldn’t call Coach and ask him—that would all but be admitting th
at I hadn’t taken our first tutoring session seriously.
It became painfully clear. My only option would be to go over to her house.
Assuming she still lived in the same place. I’d been in the car with Marissa before when we’d passed it; Marissa had pointed it out and laughed. The memory made my skin prickle. Marissa could be really mean when she wanted to be.
“Okay, it’s no big deal. I’ll head over there. Ask her in person, write them down in my phone, and head back home. I can be in and out in five minutes.” The pep talk didn’t leave me any more prepared for what I had to do.
Clomping down the stairs, I headed into the kitchen. “Mom, is it okay if I head over to my tutor’s house to grab some notes?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Why do you need to go over there to get notes?”
“Computer glitch,” I explained. My cheeks felt hot. This was not the best way to convince my parents that I was turning my AP Lit grade around. “It’ll take only a few minutes.”
“All right, as long as this isn’t a social visit.”
“A social visit? Yeah right. More like being sent to detention.”
She frowned, a crease forming across her brow. “Okay, don’t be out long.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I grabbed my keys and headed out the front door.
It took only five minutes to get to her house, a small ranch with white siding and a brick front. Purple flowers hung in baskets on either side of the bright red front door.
I got out of my car and locked the doors behind me.
“Fuller? Is that you?”
I spun around, coming face-to-face with TyShaun and his dog Bear. Crap! I forgot he lived in this neighborhood, too.
“What are you doing?” he asked, looking up toward the house.
“Oh, ah, I’m—” Stammering, I struggled to come up with an excuse.
A massive grin spread across his face. “Are you seriously paying Wrentainer a booty call?”
Cocking my head to the side, I shrugged. “She can’t get enough of me, what can I say?” My stomach twisted into a knot as guilt settled in my stomach like a brick sinking to the bottom of a lake. I was a terrible person.
I Hate You, Fuller James Page 5