Hate Me

by Leen Elle

  Finally, I managed to wrestle the phone from her grip. I gestured for Leila and Calista to hold the fuming girl back while I spoke to the person at the other end. Turning my back to the struggling threesome, I questioned, "Is that Alan? Well, could you get Alan on the phone please."

  There was a pregnant pause as the previous caterer tried to find the man who was usually the one settling the administrative stuff with us. At long last, there was a scuffling noise and Alan picked up the phone, his breathless voice coming through, "Hello?"

  "This is Raylin Lachey of Westwood High. I understand that your catering service has backed out just today. May I ask why?" I said crisply, ignoring the irritated cries of Belinda.

  "As Darren – that's the guy who was on the phone previously, had been trying to explain to your friend, we are not just short-handed but also have another more important function to attend to. We really apologize for this and we have arranged for another catering service run by my cousin to take over instead." Alan explained, his apology sounding genuine enough. "I assure you that his food is on par with, and perhaps even better than, the standards of our catering service and the price is around the same range."

  I asked for the other catering service's number and after settling all the phone calls, turned to face the girls. Calista had managed to force Belinda down into a chair and was forcing her to keep quiet. Leila, on the other hand, had moved on to hang up the streamers. I explained to them the recent situation, glancing pointedly at Belinda. She pouted and threw up her hands, "Hey! Not everyone's as immune to panic attacks like you!"

  Laughing, we managed to wrestle the pink and red streamers from their bag. Leila was already finishing up her corner of the gym so we rushed on ahead to finish up ours too, working in silence, with the exception of a couple of curses every time a streamer tore. I did my corner quickly and went to join my best friend, who was sitting on the floor blowing up pearly pink and white balloons.

  Calista called from one end of the gym, "Hey Leila, who're you going with to the dance?" I glanced at Belinda and she looked right back at me, knowing full well that amongst all four of us, Leila was the only one without a boyfriend. The subject of our conversation however, didn't seem one bit bothered by it. She finished up tying a pretty pink balloon and replied that she was going to go alone. I bit my lip gently, wondering what there was to do so that she wouldn't be going to the dance alone like every other year.

  What I said next didn't surprise anyone, since it was common enough. I tossed the blown balloon in my hands aside, picking up another white one and stretching it carefully. I paused with the balloon halfway to my lips before announcing, "I'm going to give Kenneth 'the talk' today."

  "Not again?" Belinda sighed, looking up from her job of tying the balloons together. "Kenneth was nice." Calista laughed, making some random comment of how Belinda thought everyone was nice, getting a whack on the head in return. I lifted a corner of my lips in a wry smile. The two of them were like siblings, squabbling all the time, yet so close.

  I shrugged, "I'm sick of him. He keeps dropping his food wrappers in my car, and have any of you seen the inside of his lockers? It's worse than a pig sty!"

  "Trust you to break up with him just because of that," Leila commented drily. "It's not even one week yet, just five days." I shrugged again. They all knew I didn't keep to that rule exactly, but it was always less, never more. They accepted this piece of news and continued their jobs, already used to it. But being used to it didn't mean that they were happy with it. Belinda was protesting against it, trying to persuade me as to why I should not break up with him, listing all his good points.

  She ran out of good points in less than a minute, and all I counted was five. 'Handsome' ("Like all my other guys, Belle."), 'Tall'("Once again, like all my other guys as well."), 'Funny' ("Funny…? He thinks."), 'Helpful' ("Only when there are rewards like food or something, and you know that too.") and 'Charming' ("Belle, I think even Trent has more charm than him."). As always, she gave up.

  "Well, speak of the devil." Leila deadpanned, nodding towards the folding doors along the gym. Kenneth was standing there in a half-tucked in polo shirt and baggy jeans, grinning lazily at me. I got up and walked over to him, placing my hand gently on his arm and steering him away from the gym. He didn't need to have it done right in front of an audience, although the girls knew exactly what was going to happen.

  We stopped some distance away from the gym near the stairs and he smiled down at me. I took a deep breath, "Kenneth, we need to talk."

  "Aren't we talking now?" He laughed.

  "Look, regarding our relationship…"

  "Great, I was just about to ask you to the Valentine's Day dance but I mean, of course we're going together though, being a couple and all… right? The other guys are thinking that maybe we may get some action…" His voice trailed off as he leaned in closer, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

  "Actually…" I repeated the same practiced speech that I have used on all the other guys in the past, laying it all out word for word in front of him. I stared straight into his eyes as he stared back at me in disbelief. A look of horror crossed his face for a moment before realization took over his features, "Oh that's right, it's your rule isn't it. No more than one week. But the truth is, Raylin, that it's that Goth guy that you're concerned about. Don't think I don't know what goes on behind my back, I'm not blind! I don't need this relationship in the first place, bitch."

  "Yes, I know I'm beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, caring and helpful and this," I slapped him across the face. "Is for blaming me for things I didn't do. I'm concerned about Viper, yes but I never ever cheat during any one of my relationships. And I thought we could have a mutual, peaceful break-up. I guess I was wrong." I turned on my heel and walked off, leaving him behind.

  The girls gave me knowing looks when I dropped to the ground next to them, anger probably written clearly across my features. Calista gave me a comforting pat on the shoulder and I nodded, picking up the last of the balloons to tie together, before Belinda howled in agony. We whipped around to stare at her where there was a familiar red and pink cloth in two pieces hanging off her hands. I blinked. Was that not…

  "Isn't that our banner, Belle?" Leila asked. "What happened to it?" It took less than a second for Belinda to burst into tears that she had tried to get it out of the bag and because it got tangled up and she got too irritated, she ripped it too hard, and it tore. We gathered around her to pat her shoulders comfortingly and gaze at the damage forlornly. The words 'Valentine' and 'Day Dance 2007' were split in half, as were the little hearts sprinkled across the pink and red background. Broken hearts work pretty well too. I thought grimly. Against one side of my frantically protesting mind, I volunteered to replace the banner while they proceeded with the rest of the decorations.

  Leaving the gym with the banner in hand, I walked to my locker and opened it, staring at its contents for ages. Looking back down at the useless pieces of cloth in my hands, I felt my heart sink with disappointment. Honestly, the banner had been Leila and my hard work. We had sat there on my living room floor painting for a solid five hours. The edges of the banner had the prettiest flowers and butterflies intertwining with each other amongst silver ribbon. The baby cupid in the top left hand corner had been drawn to perfection, his dimples showing clearly. And now? It was ruined, almost impossible to be redrawn, because as we all know, second tries always suck.

  "What am I going to do about this damn thing?!" I exclaimed before slamming the locker door shut and throwing the banner onto the floor and stalking off.

  VIPER

  My cellphone rang and I picked it up irritably. My pencil was poised over the final stroke on my drawing of a wolf.

  "Yes?" I snapped into the phone, not recognizing the number on the screen. "Viper! No, I mean, yes, I'm Mason Gray."

  The voice on the other end of the phone said with relief, "Could you please come down to the police station for a moment please? Your father reque
sts to be bailed out." Without waiting for a reply, he hung the phone up on me. I rolled my eyes at the phone. What was the point of bailing him out when he would just land himself back in jail again? I ignored the call and finished up my wolf drawing, allowing myself a small satisfactory smile. I signed my name in a corner with a flourish, tucking it carefully into a folder I kept for my drawings. Frankly, I was only ever neat when it came to my prized art.

  The phone rang again, this time with the same caller sounding more urgent. Someone took the phone and said tentatively, "Hey, bro?"

  "Melvin!" I galvanized into action, leaping out of the chair and across the bed to crash out of the door, giving a silent apology to Raylin for messing up the rug. "What in the name of hell are you doing there?"

  I snatched my things from my bed and sprinted out of the house, cursing at my stupid bondage pants for being so restricting. I did a Raylin and multi-tasked, undoing the three straps connecting my pant legs together and continued running while pressing the phone to my ear. A few passer-bys stopped to stare at some maniac wearing a huge black shirt with a glowing green skull, black bondage pants with dulled silver buckles and about a thousand piercings flying (not literally) past them on the streets.

  "Ah… That man kinda got arrested by the police and he insisted on being bailed out and wanted them to call his son but being a minor I obviously can't bail him out so I got him to call you and he threw a ruckus saying that you weren't his son and stuff and… look, why don't I tell you when you get here?" He ended at last.

  "I'm here already," I panted into the phone, leaning against the glass door of the forbidding police station, cursing under my breath at the sweat destroying my carefully gelled hair. Hell knows I've been in here not once, twice but thrice, all three times for nearly murdering someone with my famous blows. Melvin emerged from a door with a policeman in tow. I smirked at his shocked face before snapping my phone shut and pushing the glass door open.

  "I should have gotten your brother to call you in the first place instead of wasting half an hour waiting for you to get here. Luckily this little guy informed me that you wouldn't come unless he was the one who was in trouble," the police officer who had a hand placed on Melvin's shoulder said, smiling at me. "I'm Sergeant Malloy."

  I shot him my trademark glare and uttered, "He's right." I returned my attention to Melvin and gave him a questioning look. He directed this look back to Sergeant Malloy who gestured towards the door and led us both there. He opened it to reveal a long white corridor which I was actually rather familiar with. He pointed to a door which had a small window in it and I looked in, not very surprised to see my father slurring and cursing at thin air. I turned to the police officer and growled, "I don't have any freaking money to bail him out. He can stay in there for all I care."

  Malloy smiled wryly, "I checked your files, Mason. You've been in three times for violence and each time your father has bailed you out…" Yes, amidst much swearing and threatening and much more violence from him than me when we reach home. "…I can provide another form of bail for him, though. He would have to agree to apply into the rehabilitation centre for alcoholics and stay there, for us to keep an eye for him."

  I stared at him. Did he really think my father would agree readily? I glanced at the door and looked back at him, "I want to know how he landed in here." Malloy gestured towards my brother as if asking him to explain. Melvin sighed and told me of how our daddy dearest had went ballistic all of a sudden and started smashing all the furniture, and dashing out of the house to bang and crash on every one else's doors. That incident gave our neighbors the time of their lives as they tried to calm a drunk man down and finally, some smart guy had decided to call the police.

  "May I agree to the rehab thing for him so that he can just go and stay there immediately?" I directed this question to Malloy, repressing the urge to add a 'please' at the back, smacking myself mentally over and over again. "I mean, I wouldn't want him to disturb the neighbors again, right?"

  I crossed my fingers behind my back as the officer mulled over this. In the end he nodded and said something about keeping him here for a day "if you don't mind". A 'gladly' was poised at the edge of my lips but I held back, thanking him instead and guiding Melvin out of the doors. When we stepped back into the sunshine, I contemplated returning to Raylin's and continue staying there before posing this question to Melvin. He thought for a moment before replying, "Let's go to her house to get our things and return home. It's unfair for us to be imposing on her like this. Besides, we've stayed there for more than a week, haven't we?"

  "Wow, you've grown much more mature." That was all I could say as I led the way back to her house, dragging my feet along, all my energy spent on sprinting to the police station just now.

  When we had retrieved all our things, I forced myself to make the two beds (a little haphazardly, I might add) and left a quick note for Raylin, thanking her for her hospitality. We made the silent journey back to our apartment, past the critical stares of our neighbors which I returned with stony glares. There were whispers floating around and I caught a couple of them.

  'I heard that the elder son cuts himself!' One whisper-shouted; 'He looks like a druggie…' another commented; 'They say he's anti-social and that he doesn't like girls, too.' yet another adds; 'My goodness, how could such a little angel have become like that?' that last sentence I caught made me cringe. Had I really been a little angel in the past? I couldn't imagine. Apparently, my brother had caught that last sentence too for he grinned impishly at me and hummed some holy tune, miming a halo above his head. I scowled at him before scrutinizing the mess all around.

  A faint track was playing from an open door, which was the old master bedroom when my mother was still around. I weaved around the strewn furniture and bottles to stop outside the room. When she had died, my father spent an entire month decorating it the way she liked, buying duvets and bedsheets the color of forget-me-nots. There were the tiniest violet flowers decorating them, making them look all feminine and pretty.

  As I stepped into the room, I caught a faint whiff of my mother's old perfume, the sweet tropical scent she loved. Her dressing table was white, with all her make-up still arranged neatly before she had gone to the hospital. I knew full well that if I opened her closet, all her old hippy-ish clothes would still be hanging there, in multiple gay colors. The pale blue curtains were drawn against the stark sunlight, casting a blue hue on everything. On the cream rug, open photo albums were strewn, as well as a copy of the Eagles' 1973 album 'Desperado'.

  It was then that I realized the song playing in the background was Track 5, a track I knew so well. Suddenly, a smaller hand slipped into mine and I turned my head down to meet Melvin's watery eyes. I didn't pull my hand away but held his tightly. He murmured in a tiny voice, "It's that song again." I nodded, it was that song again. All at once, I could see my mother drawing back the curtains to flood the room with light, singing that song to us while we played on the bed. I raised a hand to my cheek, only to find it wet. I let go off Melvin's hand, "Turn the radio off, Mel."

  He left my side to do so and we lovingly closed all the photo albums, not looking at any of the photos inside, for fear of getting our hearts wrenched with the memories. I stacked them back neatly into the cupboard, smoothing the rug out. With one last glance at the room, I shut the door behind us, guiding Melvin out the room. Now I knew why my father had gone ballistic. I stared at the only door in the house that my father hadn't spilled booze on. How could she have left us like that, when we loved her so much? Do you know why love doesn't exist, now? I laid a hand on Melvin's shoulder and told him I was going to go out for awhile. He nodded understandingly and watched as I left, shutting the door behind me.

  RAYLIN

  I fixed my hair in the mirror, retying the ponytail it was in. I borrowed the raspberry lip gloss from Belinda's purse and applied it on my lips, leaning closer to the mirror to check my reflection more carefully. Adjusting the belt holding up my skinn
y jeans, I turned to lean on the door, waiting for the others. Leila gave her short denim dress a quick once-over before joining me against the door, which, honestly, was a very stupid idea. Calista and Belinda emerged from their cubicles simultaneously. Calista gave Belinda's miniskirt which had hiked up at the back a customary yank and tugged at her own hot shorts. If you thought that this was taking ages, wait till you see us before a dance.

  Ten more minutes later, we finally managed to troop out of the washroom, where an interesting scene was playing outside. A bunch of the school footballers had their backs to us, arranged in a tight little circle, observing something rather carefully. There were jeers and catcalls from the guys to the subject of their teasing. Exchanging glances with each other, we made our way towards the group of them, pushing a couple of sweaty jocks aside to take a look.

  There was a girl standing in the middle of it all, long black hair covering her face. When she looked up to meet our enquiring eyes, it was easy to see that her face was unnaturally pale, her make-up contrasting it all the more. Her eye shadow was a blend of gray and black, her eyes heavily eye-linered. Even her lips were glistening a glossy black. I recognized her as someone from Grade 10, a grade lower than us, She wore a long sleeved velvet top with a silver pentacle in the middle, the bottom end of the pentacle barely skimming the hem of the top. The bottom of the top was a diagonal slash from the end of her ribs to the top of her black jeans.

  Her wrists were encased in silver-studded leather wrist cuffs and many leather cords. She gripped her books so tightly, that her knuckles were turning white. Just looking at her attire made me think of Viper. How can you think of Viper at this time? I didn't! Is it because of his hair, so tempting that you want to run your fingers through it? No! Or his actually really buff body? Just shut up! Perhaps it's his beautifully piercing blue eyes… Hmmm… You have a point… Wait, NO! It's just because of his devastatingly intense stare right? Gnnng! SHUT UP!