TyShaun punched me in the shoulder. “You’re a dog, you know that, right?”
Bear lifted his head into the air and barked.
“You’re right, Bear,” TyShaun said, petting his dog’s head. “He’s not a dog, he’s a total catfish.”
My nose wrinkled. “I’m a catfish?” My mind drifted to the show where people pretended to be one thing in order to get someone to like them, but in real life, they were the complete opposite.
Well, I was pretending, but I wasn’t trying to get with Wren in real life.
“Yeah, you’re a bottom feeder.” TyShaun burst out into laughter. “We won’t keep you any longer. Go get her, champ.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I forced a fake smile and winked. “See you tomorrow, Ty.”
I’m totally going to hell.
Chapter Five
Wren
“Got it,” I shouted, heading toward the front door. Who in the world would be stopping by so late? Dae and Brandon were the only people who ever came to hang out with me, and they were both doing homework. Mom and Dad rarely had unplanned visitors, and it certainly wasn’t for Gramps.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” My voice came out in a whisper as I peeked through the peephole.
Thanks to Fuller’s antics and my momentary lack of impulse control, my parents had sat me down at the dinner table and told me about the phone call they’d received from Principal Davis. They couldn’t believe I’d participated in a food fight at school. They told me that they’d thanked Principal Davis for his leniency and promised to talk to me about the incident.
After hearing how disappointed they were and that they couldn’t believe I’d risked my spot at STEM camp, I wanted to disappear into my room and never come out. Luckily, since it was the first time I’d ever gotten into trouble, they didn’t ground me.
The doorbell rang for a second time.
“Wren? Can you get the door?” My mom’s voice called out from the office. “I’m in the middle of something for work.”
“Yeah, I got it.” I grabbed the brass handle and swung open the door. “Geez! Impatient much?”
Fuller stood on the other side. He shifted his weight from his right to left foot. His shoulders were slumped and there was a slight crease across his forehead. He didn’t say anything, instead, he simply stood there, looking back at me. Behind him, the sun had set, but streaks of orange were still visible over the mountains.
“Why are you here?” The words came out sharper than I intended.
“Oh, um, well, I went to look over the themes you told me to pay attention to while I was listening to the book tonight and something happened to the document. Somehow I lost all the notes.”
Grabbing the themes wasn’t a big deal, but watching Fuller squirm on my porch was beyond worthwhile. So, instead of inviting him in, I decided to push it even further. “Didn’t you save it?”
He opened his mouth but then closed it and shook his head. “I thought if I stopped over here that I could, I mean, that you could tell me them again and I could text them to myself? That way I won’t lose them.”
“Wren, who’s your friend?”
I spun around and practically bumped into Gramps.
“Hey, wait. Is that Fuller James? The best player Magnolia Valley High has seen in over two decades?”
Instantly straightening up, Fuller puffed out his chest and grinned broadly. “Yes, sir. At your service.”
Gramps looked at me, his blue eyes wide with excitement.
“Ah, yeah, Gramps. This is Fuller. We have a class together and he needs a copy of my Lit notes.” I turned toward Fuller. “I’ll be right back.”
I started to close the door, but Gramps put his hand out and stopped it from shutting. “Aren’t you going to invite your friend in?”
“Yeah, Wren. Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Fuller arched an eyebrow and gave me a wry smile. He was obviously doing it to spite me.
“Fuller, would you like to come in?” My jaw clenched, and the words came out clipped. The last thing I wanted to do was invite him into our house.
“That would be great, thanks.” He pushed his hair back with his hand.
He’d gone from sad sack to Mr. Cocky in less than a minute.
Gramps led Fuller to our kitchen table and offered him a glass of sweet tea.
“Here, use some of this,” I said, handing Fuller a bottle of hand sanitizer. “Gramps is getting over a bad cold.”
He rubbed his hands together and flapped them in the air for a few seconds before sitting down.
The circular oak table stood in a small nook off the kitchen. There were paintings of the Appalachian Mountains on the walls and a wooden sign that read, “Carter Family.” I’d made it with my mom at a painting party last year. While it wasn’t the most artistic thing ever, the memories of making it together were beyond special.
Fuller looked at me and then Gramps. “You have a very nice house.”
“Why, thank you, son. Wren’s mom and dad have really made this place a lovely home.” Gramps smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
I prayed that Fuller hadn’t seen the parade of school pictures my parents displayed on the hallway wall. I’d gone through some super awkward phases, including the time in kindergarten when I’d cut my own bangs. They were so short, they literally stuck straight out in the photo. Dae and Brandon still gave me crap about that picture. That was okay, though, because I’d seen their school pictures, and third grade wasn’t very kind to them, either.
“I’ll get the sweet tea.” I pulled out a chair for my grandfather. “Why don’t you two talk basketball for a while?”
That’s all it took for them to start trading stats from their favorite players and who they thought would win the NBA championship this year. I hadn’t heard Gramps this lucid while talking to a stranger in a long time. My heart melted as I stood in the doorway and listened to them. Gramps let out a few chuckles and recalled facts that I thought he’d lost for good. Fuller’s arrogance had completely dissipated and had been replaced with someone who appeared gentle and caring.
Brandon mentioned something to me once about Fuller’s little brother being in the hospital a lot. Maybe he was better with little kids and grandparents than he was with people his own age.
I set down two glasses of chilled raspberry tea. “Here you go. I’m going to grab something for Fuller. I’ll be right back.” My voice had lost its edge. Seeing Gramps so happy had made my night.
Gramps nodded and then turned his attention back to Fuller. “So, who’s your favorite player?”
I raced to my room and grabbed my laptop. Flipping the top, I quickly pulled up the document I’d been working on during study hall. Gramps was doing okay right now, but I knew better than anyone that that could change any moment. Over the past twenty-four months, he’d gone from living independently to moving in with my family. My dad worked from home and was able to keep an eye on him during the day. Mom and I usually took over at night, making sure Gramps had everything he needed. Recently, I found myself waking up between two and three in the morning to the television blaring in the family room, Gramps cursing the remote for not working. I’d usually put on ESPN or an old basketball game and curl up on the couch as he dozed in his favorite recliner.
My mom would ask time and time again why I didn’t wake her. He was her dad, and she wanted to take care of him. I always had the same rebuttal. She had a job to go to the next morning. I could always take a nap after school if I was feeling tired.
I emailed the document to myself and shut my laptop. I could forward it to Fuller. That would be the quickest way to get him out of the house.
As I came around the corner, I heard Gramps ask Fuller, “Who’s your favorite player?”
Fuller’s brow furrowed. “It’s a tie between Michael Jordan and LeBron J
ames.”
“Ah, those are two great players. I like Stephen Curry the best. But, that Charles Barkley, he was really something in his day.” Gramps chuckled. “He’s got a big personality too. Big Chuck.”
I placed my hand gently on his shoulder. “Hey, Gramps. I hate to break up the fun, but Fuller has to go.”
“Oh, I can stay—”
I shot Fuller a look that could sink a ship. He froze for several seconds before standing. “Wren’s right. I have a lot of homework and should get going. It was very nice meeting you, sir. I hope to see you in the stands during the upcoming season.”
“Oh, do you play basketball?” Gramps asked. His face was serene, completely unaware that he had known who Fuller was only a few minutes ago.
“Um, yes, sir.”
Fuller’s manners caught me off guard.
“It was nice meeting you, sir.”
“You, too.” Gramps picked up his iced tea and took a long swig. “Have a good night, kids.”
Fuller followed me outside. He remained silent as I closed the door behind us.
“What’s your email?” I held my phone in my hands and waited.
As he rattled off his school email address, I typed it into my phone. When he was done, I pressed send.
“Okay, I sent you an email with the themes. Check and make sure it came through.”
Fuller reached for his phone. “Oh… I um, I don’t have my school email on here. I check it only from my laptop.”
Of course you don’t.
He raked his teeth over his lower lip. “Is there any way you could text it to me?”
Even though the sky was dark, I could see Fuller’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. He stole a glance over his shoulder, scanning the street.
I turned my gaze in his direction. What is he looking at?
I copied the themes from my email and then opened up my messenger app. “Yeah, what’s your number?”
My fingers flew across the screen as he rattled off a series of digits. A few seconds later, the text went through.
“Got it.” He slid his phone back into his pocket and checked over his shoulder again.
The realization hit me like an anvil falling from the sky in an old-time cartoon. “Are you that embarrassed to be standing in my driveway?” The words tumbled out of my lips before I had time to weigh the consequences.
Fuller held up his hands. “No, no, not at all.”
“Then why do you keep looking behind you? Are you afraid someone’s going to see you and tell your friends that you’re hanging out with Wrentainer?” My chest rose and fell as anger coiled in my stomach.
He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
Figures. I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, Fuller. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wren, wait.”
But I didn’t. Instead, I turned around, went back into the house, and slammed the door behind me. Ugh, I can’t believe I had to spend another—I checked my phone for the time—fifteen minutes with that jerk. I should start charging him overtime.
Yeah right, like any amount of money would ever make up for being forced to tutor Fuller James.
“Hey, Wren. Who were you talking to outside?”
I linked my arm around my grandpa’s and walked him back to the kitchen table. “No one, Gramps. Let’s finish our iced tea.”
Chapter Six
Fuller
“Did you do the reading last night?” Wren grabbed a small bottle of hand sanitizer that was connected to her backpack and squirted some in her hands.
I flinched. Wren’s voice was void of emotion and interest. She was clearly still pissed at me. I couldn’t tell her the real reason I was looking over my shoulder last night, that I was on the lookout for TyShaun, who knew about the stupid bet I’d made with Marc. Ugh.
I hated that TyShaun had probably already told Marc about my visit to Wren’s. Shoot, I should have told him to take a picture. That might have counted as proof for the first part of my bet… No. Screw that. I needed to find a way out of the bet, not figure out how to fulfill it.
Plus, there’s no way Marc would accept a picture of me standing in her driveway. He wanted proof that Wren and I were hooking up. I swallowed the lump in my throat. No how, no way, would that picture ever happen. This situation sucked, and I was the only one to blame. And I hated myself for it.
“Um, Fuller?” Wren drummed her fingers on the table. “Did you do the reading last night?”
“Yeah, sorry. I got a lot done. Thanks for the audiobook tip.” I couldn’t believe no one had ever told me about audiobooks before. It made getting through the reading assignments ten times easier. Plus, I could multitask, could shoot hoops or run while listening.
I’d actually borrowed Hudson’s library card and logged on to the public library’s website last night. In five minutes, I’d downloaded the audiobook of LeBron James’s biography and placed my name on the waiting list for Angie Thomas’s second book, On the Come Up. What would my teammates think if they found out that I was listening to books that weren’t assigned by a teacher? “Fuller the Jock” becomes “Fuller the Nerd.” A small smile played on my lips.
“You’re welcome.” Wren sat across from me with her arms folded over her chest. Her eyes refused to meet mine.
“Listen, about last night… I tried following you on Instagram,” I started, unsure of where to take the conversation. “You didn’t accept me—”
She held her hands up, cutting me off. “I don’t want to hear any stupid excuses. You were obviously embarrassed to be at my house last night. It’s not like I expected anything different. You’re Fuller James, Homecoming King and captain of the basketball team. Why would you want to be seen with Wrentainer?”
She emphasized the terrible nickname. It wasn’t that she was putting herself down, but pointing out that others, including me, had done it countless times. I frowned as a queasy feeling settled in my stomach. “I know that’s what it looked like, but I promise you, that’s not what happened.”
Wren’s knuckles turned white, and she hugged her body tighter. “Whatever, it’s not like I wanted you there, either.”
Ouch. That stung.
I wasn’t trying to get with Wren or anything, but her hatred for me was a stark reminder of the consequences of acting like a cocky asshole. “I swear to you, Wren. Last night may have looked bad, but it’s not what you think.” Not that I can tell you why it’s not what you think, but it isn’t…
She didn’t respond.
Clearing my throat, I tried to change the subject. “I really liked meeting your grandpa. He seems like a great guy. He sure loves basketball, huh?” Her body tensed even more as soon as I mentioned him.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she just looked away.
“How long has he been living with your family?”
She inhaled slowly. “Two years.”
“He seems really happy.” I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say, but I was being honest with Wren, and it felt good.
“He is, most of the time.” Her voice got softer. “Sometimes he has…episodes. It can be pretty tough to calm him down.”
Her honesty reverberated through me. “That sounds difficult.”
“It can be, but there isn’t another option. We’re not going to send him to a nursing home. Not when he’s happy and safe living with us. I know one day…” She paused. “One day that will probably be the reality, but for now, he’s staying with us.”
We sat in silence for several minutes.
“I-I know what it’s like. To live with someone who’s sick,” I said quietly.
Wren’s expression softened.
I certainly didn’t plan on baring my soul to her, but I felt safe, and deep down, I knew she wouldn’t tell anyone. “My little brother, he’s got a condi
tion. It’s called brittle bone disease. He’s extra susceptible to getting hurt.” Saying the words out loud felt freeing. Besides Marc, I didn’t talk about Hudson with anyone else. Well, I’d told Marissa once, but she’d somehow turned the conversation around and made it about her.
Even though I didn’t know Wren well, I already knew she would never do that or blab about it to half the school. “I don’t have a lot of free time, but when I do, I spend most of it with him.”
Wren’s sympathetic hazel eyes locked onto mine. “That must be really tough. For him, I mean.”
“He’s a good kid. He’s got a great sense of humor, too. It’s gotten him through a lot of rough times. The hardest thing is when people find out that he’s my brother, but they don’t know about his medical condition. They all assume he’s a basketball prodigy. When he tells them that he doesn’t play sports, things can get…” I trailed off. “Well, let me put it this way, most people these days don’t have any manners or common decency.”
Wren finally let her arms fall from her chest. “That sucks.”
“Yeah, but he’s developed a thick skin when it comes to stupid people and their comments. I think being a huge fan of Deadpool has helped.”
Wren chuckled. “Deadpool? Shouldn’t he be more into Spider-Man or Thor? Something a little more kid-friendly?”
Was she a Marvel fan? I wondered if she was just into the movies or if she was hardcore and into the comics. “Eh, not really, but my parents got over it once they saw the positive impact it was having on him.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Wren responded. “I’m a big superhero fan. Marvel, DC, you name it and I’ve read the comics and probably watched it.”
“Yeah, Deadpool is indestructible and he doesn’t give a crap what anyone else thinks of him. Sometimes Hudson calls me Weasel.” I grinned.
“Weasel as in the bartender?” Wren asked.
“Yeah, he says I’m the guy he can tell all his problems to.” A warm sensation surged through my heart. “The best part, though, is that he has a new favorite song. It’s from the first movie, and he’s obsessed with it.”
I Hate You, Fuller James Page 6