Bully (13 page)

And I wiped a fake tear with my middle finger. Again.

By early afternoon, yawns were erupting from my body every five minutes. After the wake-up call, the lab, the episodes between Jared, K.C. and Madoc, the sob session in the bathroom, and the heart-to-heart at lunch, my body needed to shut down for a while. One more class and I could head home to crash. If I were lucky, we’d be watching a movie in Themes. When I remembered that Jared shared this class with me, though, a renewed tension spit fire through my shoulder and neck muscles.

After I sat down, Nate Dietrich walked up to my desk and leaned in. “Hey, Tate, how about you come out with me this weekend?”

I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. This guy passed me in the hall last week and grabbed his crotch in my direction. “No thanks, Nate.” With his curly brown hair and hazel eyes, he was somewhat cute, but too stupid to tolerate. If he wasn’t cracking some immature joke, then he
was
the immature joke.

“Oh, come on. Give me a chance.” His long, sing-song tone sounded like he was speaking to a toddler.

“Not. Interested.” I made deliberate eye contact, shooting him a warning with my eyes. It was definitely no secret now that I could handle myself. He should take the warning. Opening my notebook and looking at my notes, I hoped he’d take the hint that this conversation was over.

“I don’t get you.”
Nope. As I said, too stupid.
“You give it to Trent in the locker room last week, and then you let Jamison take you out. You probably gave it up for him, too.” He leaned in further and ran his hand up my arm.

Every nerve in my body was electrified. I wanted to bring this guy’s head down on my knee hard enough to sprout blood flow that would rival Niagara Falls.

“Leave,” I gritted out, still trying to study my notes. “That’s your last warning.” I couldn’t even look at him, as gross as the encounter had made me feel. The idea of everyone thinking I was some sleazy throw-away made the walls cave in on me. As much as I tried to act like this was normal for me and that I was used to it, it still felt like shit. What people thought of me mattered.

“Jared’s right. You’re not worth it,” Nate whispered with a snarl.

“Sit down, Nate.” The deep, commanding voice startled us both.

Looking up, I saw Jared standing behind Nate, giving him his death glare. My heart skipped a beat when I realized that, for once, Jared’s scowl was not directed at me.

As usual, Jared gave the impression that he could take on an army all by himself.

Nate twisted around slowly. “Hey, man, no offense. If you’re not done with her…” Nate shrugged, backing off out of Jared’s way.

“Don’t talk to her again.” Jared’s voice was even, but his eyes were threatening.

What the hell?

“Go.” Jared jerked his chin, and Nate left as if he was just dismissed.

I let out a bitter sigh. How dare he try to troubleshoot a problem he created? They all, at one time or another, had thought I was a slut because of him. Isn’t this what he wanted? Isn’t me being harassed and uncomfortable the goal of his bullying? Sick of his torment and games, I forced down the urge in my twitching fists to hit him. It was then that I realized I wanted to hurt Jared. Really hurt him.

I hate you
.

My emotions fell into a relaxed lividness. “Don’t do me any favors,” I bit out, meeting his eyes. The satisfaction of hurting
him
for once would feel fucking great. “You’re a miserable piece of shit, Jared. But then, I guess I’d be miserable, too, if my parents hated me. Your dad left you, and your mom avoids you. But who can blame them, right?”

Jared flinched, and I immediately felt my insides shake. What was I doing? This wasn’t me! Bile rose in my throat.
What did I just say to him?
I waited for the satisfaction to come, but it never did.

He remained silent, and his eyes narrowed on me with a hint rage and despair. There was no way I could erase what I’d just done to him. Even though he hid his emotions, I’d seen the cringe.

This is how bullies are made.

I’d just purposely made him feel unloved and unwanted. I’d told him he was alone. Even with everything he’d pulled on me, I’d never felt abandoned or isolated. There was always someone that loved me, someone I could count on.

“Okay, class.” Mrs. Penley walked through the door, startling me. Jared said nothing and continued down the aisle to his seat. “Please take out your compasses and lookup your East. When I say ‘go’, please take your materials and sit next to that person for today’s discussion. Feel free to move desks side by side or face to face. Go.”

Blinking away the tears that’d pooled, I barely had time to catch my breath before my East walked up to me.

“Hey, pretty girl.” I looked up to see Ben already at my side, looking for a vacant desk.

Not today.
I tucked my hair behind my ears and took a deep breath. Ben and I hadn’t talked since our date last night, and I hadn’t realized that until now. “Hi, Ben.”
Hold on for one more hour,
I chanted to myself. I needed my music, my bed, and definitely my grandma.

“I’m good. Now.” He flashed a bright smile, and I couldn’t help but exhale a weak laugh. He was a happy guy and easy to be with. I’d give him that.

“Alright, everyone, as you did with your South last class, please introduce yourself to your East,” Mrs. Penley instructed the class. Everyone moaned, just like last class, because we all pretty much knew each other anyway.

“I know, I know.” The teacher waved her hands to shut everyone up. “It’s good practice for all of those college interviews you’ll be doing. As well as introducing yourself, I want you, this time, to share your favorite memory to get to know each other. Go ahead.”

Mrs. Penley started circulating the classroom that already buzzed with conversation. I looked to Ben, and we both snorted like this was the last thing we wanted to spend our time doing.

“Hi.” He held out his hand, which I took, rolling my eyes and nodding. “My name is Benjamin Jamison. My favorite memory is making my first touchdown in high school. Knowing I was varsity, and the crowd was so much more intense, the feeling was incredible.”

It was hard not to sympathize with a memory like that. With all of the spectators cheering him on, I bet it’d been heart pounding.

“Hi, my name is Tatum Brandt.” I waved and felt like I was in a movie during an AA scene where I would tell him “I’m and alcoholic” next. “And my favorite memory was when…” My eyes immediately flashed to Jared and then my desktop. This particular memory was priceless to me, but I had a hard time admitting it to myself. Maybe I should just lie, but then why should I be the one to hide? “Uh, I guess it won’t seem like as big of a deal as yours, but… I had a picnic in a cemetery once.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Really?” He looked at me curiously. “So what was that about?”

“Well.” I swallowed hard. “My mom passed away when I was ten, and I was afraid to visit her at the cemetery. It really freaked me out. For two years, I refused to go. I hated the idea of her being under the ground like that. So, this boy I was friends with…at the time, he packed a lunch for us and took me to the cemetery one day. I was pretty mad when I realized where he was taking me, but he was told me that I should be happy that my mom was there. He said it’s the prettiest, quietest place in town. He was really understanding and patient. We sat near my mom’s grave and ate our lunch, listened to a radio he brought. He had me laughing in no time. We stayed a while, even after the rain started. Now, it’s one of my favorite places to go. Because of him.” My face hurt, and I realized I had a grin plastered to it during the entire story.

As awful as Jared had become, and now how terrible I’d become, I still treasured that memory. I smiled every time I thought of what he’d done for me that day. He gave me a little of my mom back.

“Wow. My touchdown story seems kind of shallow now.” Ben actually looked interested in what I’d told him.

“I like your touchdown story. I wish I’d had more touchdowns, so to speak.”

“So, are you and this kid still friends then?” Ben asked.

As I looked over at Jared across the room, his gaze caught mine, and the hair on my neck stood on end. His frosty stare drifted to Ben, and then back to me. No hint of emotion resembling anything human.

“No, we’re practically strangers now.”

***

Walking to my car after school, I noticed K.C.’s ex-boyfriend leaning against it. “Liam?” I asked, momentarily curious as to why he was waiting for me but more annoyed, because I just wanted to get home.

“Hey, Tate. How have you been?” His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and he looked between me and the ground.

“I’m hanging in there. What can I do for you?” I asked abruptly. It was unlike me not to ask someone how they were when they had asked me, but I was upset with Liam. He could rot in his own tears for all I cared.

He smiled nervously. “Um, listen. I feel really bad about what happened between K.C. and me. I’ve tried calling her, and I stopped at the house, but she won’t see me.”

This was news to me. When I’d asked K.C. if she’d heard from Liam, she’d told me “no.” My friend wasn’t as honest as she used to be.

“And?” I opened the door to my dad’s Bronco and tossed my bag inside.

“Tate, I just need to see her.” His eyes were red, and he was fidgeting. “I fucked up. I know that.”

“That’s your excuse?” It was none of my business, but I liked Liam. At least I did before he cheated on my best friend. I wanted to understand. “Why did you cheat?

Running his hands through his dark hair, he leaned back against the truck. “Because I could. Because I got caught up in the scene at the Loop. There were always girls around, and I let it go to my head. K.C. would only come with me every so often, and even then she wasn’t interested.”

My head hurt just trying to think of what to say to him. I couldn’t do this right now.

“Liam, I need to go home. I’ll tell K.C. that you’d like to talk to her, but I can’t be on your side about this. If you deserve it, she’ll forgive you.” Personally, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever forgive him if I were her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wrangle you into this.”

“Yes, you did,” I joked reluctantly. At heart, I didn’t believe Liam was a bad guy. He messed up, though, and I wasn’t sure if it was worth the risk to forgive him. Luckily, I didn’t have to make that decision.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. You were my last hope. Take care of yourself, and …for what it’s worth, I am sorry about this mess.” He backed away and walked to his Camaro.

Letting out a sigh, I climbed into the truck and drove off before this soap opera of a day turned into
Gone with the Wind
.

“Mmmm…what’s cookin’, Good Lookin’?” I yelled as I opened the front door. My body was screaming for my bed, but I decided to put on a happy face for my grandma. I’d missed her.

And I selfishly needed her to remind me that I was a good person. After what I’d said to Jared today, I didn’t even want to face myself in the mirror.

Her arrival could be smelled from the driveway. The rich aroma of sauce and meat danced through my nostrils enveloping me in a warm blanket even before I closed the front door.

“Hi, Peaches!” Grandma seemed to dance from the kitchen to the foyer, taking me into her arms. In the year I’d been gone, I’d missed her scent-filled hugs. The hairspray from her hair mixed with the lotion and perfume she used, and the leather from her belts and shoes created this aroma of home in my mind. After Mom died, I’d needed my grandma a lot.

“Oh, I forgot about “Peaches.” Dad still calls me “Pumpkin.” What is it with you Brandts naming me after fruit?” I teased, knowing their endearments were out of love.

“Oh, now. Don’t deny an old lady the pleasure of her pet names.” She plastered a kiss on my cheek with a
mwah
.

“Grandma, you’re younger at heart than me.” I dropped my bag by the wall and crossed my arms over my chest. “The only thing old about you is your music.” I cocked an eyebrow.

“The Beetles are timeless. Unlike that “screaming” you call music.” I rolled my eyes, and she hooked my arm, leading me into the kitchen.

My grandma is a product of fifties’ parenting—overbearing, every hair in the right place—but she also blossomed during her teens and the rebellion of the sixties. The desire to be active in her environment and experience the world led her to travel a lot as a young adult. When she found out about me going to France for a year, she couldn’t have been more thrilled.
Experience is the best teacher
. Her echo followed me everywhere.

While she was just over sixty, she looked much younger. Her hair was light brown with some gray, which she usually wore down around her shoulders. Healthy eating and exercise kept her fit, happy, and energetic. Her style was eclectic. I’ve seen her in pants suits and Rolling Stones t-shirts.

“So tell me how school’s been going?” She grabbed come lettuce off the island and began rinsing it in the sink.

“It’s fine.” My bed wasn’t far off now, and my body was too listless to even entertain the idea of actually telling her the truth.

Her eyes shot up at me, though, and she turned off the water. “What’s wrong?” She was breathing through her nose. That’s never good. This woman knew me too well.

“Nothing’s wrong. I said everything was fine.”
Please just leave it alone.

Her eyes narrowed. “When you’re happy, you tell me everything: homework, Science Club, France, Cross Country—“

“I’m totally fine,” I interrupted, running my hand across my forehead. “It’s been a rough day is all. I woke up late and got off on the wrong foot. So what time did you get in?”

She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at my change of subject but let it go. “About noon I guess. I thought I’d get in a little early to clean up and start some laundry…” Her words trailed off as she waved a hand through the air. “But you seem to have it all under control.”

“Well, I was taught by the best. Not that I’m not glad you’re here, but you really don’t need to worry. I’ve been doing great.”