Hate (12 page)

And gutted.

“But, I think our timeline has expired. I look at you every day, and I hate what I’m doing to you.”

“What you’re doing to me?” I questioned. “You’re not doing anything—”

“Yes, I am,” he said harshly.

“I’m cold and distant, and I know it. But it’s not going to change, and I want better for you.”

“Blane, if this is about what I said the other day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s not,” he argued. “Well, it is, but only in the sense that you woke me up. I’m not giving you what I need to, and it’s not fair. I can’t give what you need. Especially, not now.”

“I don’t need anything from you,” I said, a single tear trailing down my fake-freckled cheek and carving a cavern through the makeup.

“You do. Whit, friendship is two-sided, and I’m giving you nothing.”

“I don’t want anything, Blane. I was wrong. I just want you around,” I begged, desperation tinging every tiny facet of my voice.

I stepped toward him, hoping that by some miracle, he’d step toward me.

Instead, he retreated.

“Whitney, stop. Please. It’s time to move on. You deserve better. You deserve to be happy. You deserve someone who’s willing to open up to you. Just move on, make new friends. There’s no way they won’t like you.”

“Yeah, because I’m so likable,” I mocked through my now streaming tears. Seeming to spend more time wet than dry, my face was starting to adapt to the sensation.

“You are! God, I promise that you are. Once you get past your abrasive exterior, you’re one of the best people on the planet.”

“If I’m so great, stay! Don’t walk away like this! Don’t give up.”

He rose easily from my steps, but the words he choked out weren’t easy to swallow.

“Don’t you see? I already gave up on our friendship. And it’s because of that, because you’re so great—and you
are
—that you deserve better.”

He turned and walked down the sidewalk, his powerful back looking more depressing than it ever had.

“What am I supposed to do?” I shouted. “Just ignore you? Pretend like we’ve never met when we cross paths in the hall? Huh?”

“No. We can still talk. We can still be civil to one another—”

“Oh yeah?” I seethed, the anger actually rolling off of me in heavy, bitterness-laden waves and forcing away the tears. “We
can
, huh? You say it’s okay, so now it’s so.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“What you say just goes?”

“Whit—”

“Don’t!” I screamed, leaning into my yell and clenching my fists at my sides.

“If you want this friendship to be over so badly, you’re gonna have to avoid me! You know why? Because I’m not going anywhere!” The veins in my neck bulged. I could feel them there, pulling at the skin and flexing with every shout of anger.

“Never in my life,” I whispered with a shaky finger, “has someone disrespected me so totally. Never have
you
disrespected me so totally. You think you can just tell me to walk away and I will? You think so low of me?”

“Whitney,” he whispered, and this time, his voice, and his eyes, were tortured.

“Fuck.
You
.”

He nodded his head, because in a roundabout way, we’d ended up exactly where he wanted.

That’s what made me call after him.

“Tonight,” I declared on a shaky exhale. “Tonight, Blane, you are an asshole. But tomorrow, this will be over, and you better believe I’ll be right there again, shoving myself right back down your throat.”

He turned back, all the way at the driveway, just to slap me one more time. “I don’t want you to.” He raised his voice even louder. “Whitney, I want you to leave me alone.”

“Yeah, well,” I said with a humorless laugh. “I wanted you to leave me the hell alone in seventh grade, and look how that turned out.”

“DRAMA,” GRAM MUTTERED FROM HER spot under my covers as I walked into my room. Her hair was mussed as though she’d been there for quite some time.

“Is this where I’m going to find you from now on? Because, really?”

“It’s comfy,” she argued. “Your mattress is more comfortable than mine.”

“That’s probably because you made it all lumpy with your brittle, little old lady bones,” I deadpanned.

Okay. So that wasn’t that nice. But I wasn’t in a good mood. Obviously.

“Hah!” She laughed. Crazy old lady. “If that’s true, lumpy is coming to a bed near you. I lay here every day.”

“Great,” I huffed sarcastically.

“Geez. Someone is super grumpy. I’m guessing it has something to do with the hunk, right?”

“How would you know?”

“You’ve got some pipes, kid. I’m a brittle, little old lady,” she mocked, “ and I still heard you screaming outside.”

“Jesus.”

“Yep, Jesus definitely heard you too.”

I rolled my eyes before bringing them back to hers.

She stared at me. It was rich in
you better just go ahead and tell me because I’m not going anywhere until you do
.

“Ugh, fine,” I conceded, letting my voice growl at the end of my first word.

“Thank God. I really didn’t want to put in the work to making you confess.”

“You’re a pain in my—”

“Careful. Attribute too many pains to your ass and that thing’ll get so big it curls around and smothers you.”

“What?”

“Just get on with it.”

“He doesn’t want me to be his friend anymore. I’m,” I lifted my fingers into air quotes for emphasis, “too good for him.”

“And what’d you say?”

“That it was too bad. I was gonna be his friend anyway. Actually, I’m pretty sure I told him I was going to shove myself down his throat.”

“Ooo,” she said while pretending to fan herself. “Saucy.”

“Gram!”

“What? You need to live a little. It’d really do you some good.”

“Whatever. So I’m boring. Out with the advice. I know you’ve got it.”

“Damn right I do,” she agreed arranging the dainty purple covers around herself.

“So tell me!” I snapped.

Her restless limbs settled, the energy they’d been using focused now on me. “NeeNee, a man who really wants to stop being your friend, just stops being your friend. He doesn’t come talk to you about it, in the dark of night, and then force you to walk away from him.”

I stared at her.

“You just keep on shoving yourself down his throat, and then, you know, really
shove yourself down his throat
.”

“He’s still with Franny, you loon.”

“Right, right. Franny,” she mumbled, not actually saying anything other than her name.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she offered. “Just pondering what it must be like to have a moral compass.”

“How is it that you’re the person I come to with problems? You’re the person from whom I take advice?” I questioned to the room at large, but we both knew I was talking about her.

“Why not?” Gram supplied easily, taking a candy bar out from behind my lavender pillowcase. “I’m brilliant.”

NOTHING ABOUT THE LAST MONTH and a half had been easy. School had felt lonely, despite my attempts to stay mired in both Franny and Blane’s lives.

He acted normal on the outside, greeting me like always, but I knew it was for Franny’s benefit.

She was acting happier—not
happy
, by any stretch of the imagination, but
happier
—and when I greeted Blane, if he just ignored me or maybe even shot me the finger or a look of disdain, I doubted she would like it.

And Blane knew that. So he didn’t. He said hello when I said it, he forced a smile when I smiled.

But still, his eyes were dead. When they pointed at me, he made sure they glazed over, and I felt the difference of him looking straight through me.

I tried to be sarcastic. I tried to pull his banter from within. But none of it worked.

So I’d carried on. Sitting with them at lunch, saying all the right things, but wishing I could do something, anything to change where we were.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t.

I was just one person, and no matter how hard I tried, if the two of them weren’t in the right mindset to keep our real connections, I couldn’t force it.

But I could hang around until they were ready. Which was my new strategy. Just be there, in the vicinity, so that when they got to their breaking point, I’d have a chance of holding at least one of them together.

I kind of hated it.

I was much more of a take action kind of girl. But action wasn’t always the best answer.

So, time ticked on, and with each passing day, I hated it more.

That’s right, I
hated
time. If I’d only known, I would have wished for more.

“HEY LOOK!” I CHEERED SARCASTICALLY. “It’s my bestest, best friend ever!”

Blane didn’t react, which made me even angrier. The whole point of taunting him like a child had been to get some sort of a reaction.

“Okay, or not. It could be the guy who can’t stand the sight of me, my mistake,” I added derisively.

That got a reaction.

“Whit, you know that’s not true.”

“Really?” I questioned sarcastically, ready to ask him if he even remembered that it was my birthday this weekend, just a few days before Christmas, but as we climbed the steps I bit down on my tongue.

This wasn’t the time or the place to lay into him.

I’d held onto the disbelief and anger for this long, I could keep it sealed up until we got done visiting Franny.

She’d called in sick to school today, the last day before winter break, so I’d gathered all the books she would need to finish all of her homework.

Blane just came to see her every day.

As far as I knew anyway.

“Franny! God no! Franny! God, baby! Somebody help! Help me!” Blane and I heard as we opened the door to the DePlunzios’ bungalow style house.

He took off at a run, and I stayed as close on his heels as I could, but he was much faster.

By the time I made it to Franny’s doorway, Blane had her cradled in his arms.

But I didn’t miss the noose around her neck and the lack of pallor in her lifeless skin.

The trauma stuck its boot square in my stomach and shoved, so hard and fast I was powerless to stop it.

“NO!” I screamed, stumbling backwards and slamming my back into the pictures on their hallway wall. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening!” I cried hoarsely, completely lost to my own world of disbelieving horror.

My body trembled violently in shock, and it felt like I was the one with the rope around my neck.

As I struggled for breath, my mind raced to find reason.

Why was this world so ugly? Why did beautiful people take their own lives? Why couldn’t we convince Franny that she had other options?

Why was this happening?

When I looked down, I saw blood on my hands, several pieces of freshly broken glass sparkling amidst it.

Numbing myself to Gina’s screams, I expected to hear Blane’s cut through. But I heard nothing.

I didn’t hear him begging for her life, asking her to come back to him, or questioning some unknown entity for a reason why like I expected him to.

Instead, he cradled her softly with his lips resting on her temple and closed his eyes. I sat there completely powerless, the whoosh of my own heartbeat drowning out the chaos around me.