Seeds of Hate (10 page)

I never told him to ignore the world around us, but it had become an unspoken agreement.

I arrived to my new home in the bushes long before students would be pulling in. The school had a strict loitering policy if you were suspended or on any kind of probation. I couldn't risk being caught, but for once I preferred being on campus instead of away.

It felt wrong. All wrong.

To pass the time, I weaved weeds into a chain. It was a skill I learned in the fourth grade, by a girl a year younger than me who hated playing during recess. I think her name was Ruby or something that rhymed with booby. It was what the kids chanted out at her whenever she walked by, "Ruby's a booby! Ruby's a booby!" She was nine though and I never figured out why they called her that. Quiet, yes, but weird or unusual, no. I sat beside her on the field one day because I sprained my ankle and couldn't play kickball. She happened to find the only shady spot under a tree.

I watched her pick up these tiny little flowers and then somehow interconnect them. It would pass the time so I asked her to show me. She made a tiny slit with her finger into the stem of the flower near the root. Then she would stick another stem into the hole and continue awhile before connecting the ends. She formed them into various sizes, a bracelet, a necklace, a crown and so forth. When the bell rang, we had a whole pile of flower jewelry. That was the only time we ever interacted and I never saw her again.

The sun started to peer through the clouds, and I relaxed against a tree, still shaded against its rays. No one could see me, but I had a decent view of our brick wall. My surroundings were quiet, a couple of squirrels and a bird chirping. Our school sat against the base of a natural preserve, only a few houses nearby. I gathered flowers as the early comers arrived—teachers, staff and the long distance commuter students. Every time I made a slit the stem would break into two. I kept trying.

Engines rumbled and chatter echoed throughout the parking lot, as more vehicles parked and Monday morning started. I saw Izzy get dropped off by his mom and I threw the flowers back into the dirt. His presence signaled the start of my show.

He walked, no different than his normal walk—head up, but making no direct eye contact with anyone. I smiled as he held two coffees and a greasy bag. He reached our wall, leaned against the brick and slid down. Placing one cup down to the side, he sipped on the other while eating a sticky bun. Then he looked up and scanned the campus. His behavior repeated for the next ten minutes. Sip, bite, scan. He was waiting for me.

No one approached him, yelled hi or ran by giving him a high-five in the process. He still only had me. The bell would be ringing soon and I would leave until lunch time. Returning to see the same process repeated. I grabbed a single flower from the floor and spun it between my fingers. When I looked up, that girl, the one from last Thursday, approached him.

She seemed unsure. I sat back down and pulled the leaves aside, wrapping my fingers around the fence links to get a closer look.

"Izzy, Izzy, Izzy. What are you going to do?" I said out loud.

She sat down, picked up my coffee and took a drink. I shook the fence with my hands and spat on the floor. Just a girl. Who cares.

The bell rang and neither one of them moved. I stood up, trying to make my presence known without revealing myself, but they didn't even glance in my direction. So I left.

***

I came back every day that week, and every night I told myself I wouldn't. That it didn't matter. It was now Friday and I hadn't left campus all day. The final bell rang and students poured out of the doors, flooding the campus and parking lot. Izzy walked straight from his last period to the front of campus and sat on the same bench he did every day waiting for his mom. I scanned the area until my eye caught her frazzled hair, bouncing around and blowing in the air. She stared at the ground as she walked and held a book close to her chest—making no acknowledgement of the students around her.

Her face distorted with fear as she tripped on a crack, but caught herself before falling. I laughed. She made her way down the steps and fumbled around in her bag while watching the ground ahead of her. Pulling out a set of keys, she clicked the alarm off and then I noticed them.

The triplets. Britney, Sarah and Jessica were a dozen steps behind Selah and walking straight toward her. I moved closer behind the fence and trailed my hand against the metal as I followed it, standing almost directly in front of her car. The bushes still concealed me, but if anyone looked up they would notice.

Selah paused right before her car, and I placed my fist in my mouth to prevent from calling out. I couldn't get involved. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Mr. White was strict. My appointment to clear my probation had been scheduled for exactly thirty minutes post the final class. He didn't want me interacting with anyone.

I didn't know what to expect from the triplets, but one final whisper and a shove from Sarah pushed Britney forward. Her hands were then on Selah's back and Selah's face slammed directly against her driver side window.

Her eyes popped open, and in the process, she dropped her bag and keys. Then she squeezed them shut again, her mouth moving silently. I couldn't tell what she was saying.

I felt like a coward for not intervening, especially once Nate arrived. But I had barely saved myself from their humiliation. I didn't have time to save everyone else too.

The handle clicked against the wood as I stepped into the office and waited for Mr. White to speak with me. Our school secretary sat at her computer typing away with angry fingers.

"Did the computer misbehave?" I asked.

"Huh?" She stopped her progress and swiveled in her chair. "Oh, hi, Javier. How are you?" she asked.

"I'm good, Miss Moss. And you?"

"Oh, same old, same old. Just inputting a bunch of paperwork and documenting the week’s activities." She pulled her glasses off of her face and smirked. "You know, you'd make my job a lot easier if you'd keep your hands to yourself."

My shoulders fell. Miss Moss was one of the few people I liked at school. "Sorry. I mean, really, I am. I just, he just, it's complicated," I said and looked at the floor.

A loud thump hit the counter. "Trust me," she said, fingers grazing a large manila folder four inches thick. "I've read your entire file. I know how complicated it is." She bit the edge of her glasses while tapping her pen on a pad of paper. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I replied.

"Why do you do it?" she asked.

"Do what?"

Her eyes held mine, and her forehead creased at the center. "Protect him?"

"I don't—" I began to explain and she stood up, cutting me off.

Her hand smacked the top of the file and the sound echoed throughout the empty office. A small printer worked hard in the background, the only thing moving faster than my heart.

"I've read everything.
Everything
. Don't think I haven't put it all together. Three years of problems and yet none of them confirmed by you or presented by you. Don't act stupid. Why are you protecting him?"

I looked up at the clock and then down at the floor. "I'm not protecting him," I said to the white tiles scuffed with black shoe marks.

"Fine. But you're protecting someone. These situations, these scenarios, they just don't add up."

Some things in life never added up. Or made sense. Or should have ever happened, but they did.

The large wooden door with a cloudy glass panel in the center opened up at the back of the office. "Javier, let's get this over with," said Mr. White as he stared at a piece of paper in his hands.

I stood and walked away. When I got to the edge of the counter, I stopped and placed my hand on the corner, running my thumb back and forth over the pointy end. "I'm protecting myself," I said.

Miss Moss didn't reply, but I heard her chair squeak as she sat down and rolled across the floor. I stopped just outside Mr. White's office. It was always hard walking through—no matter the times I had done it before.

"Close the door, Javi," he said.

Grabbing the handle, I looked back up toward Miss Moss one more time and she was staring at me. Her head tilted to the side and her face fallen, no rise to her cheeks or mouth. I shrugged and went inside. Nothing more to say.

Chapter 14

The Bakery

(Selah)

Frank and Carolyn weren't home when I left for Izzy's bakery, so I wrote them a note. My head hurt from the night before, a mixture of tears and alcohol still floating around my system. I drove the long way, taking side streets with the windows rolled down. The sun was still opening its eyes and I relaxed against the cool air, the chill cleansing my mind.

The bakery appeared on my left and I pulled over and parked on the opposite side. The streets were lined with storefronts, all of them beginning to turn on their lights and get ready for a day of business. I pulled down my visor to block the sun peering over the rooftops. And then I sat and waited. And waited. And waited, until the sun was higher and the sleep from the night before had disappeared from my eyes.

The bakery had a large line out the door, but there were several empty tables inside. Most people grabbing and walking with a better destination in mind.

I got out of my car and smiled. Loud noises and a various array of scents hit me all at once—Chinese food, cinnamon, coffee and fresh flowers. It was an odd combination. A large delivery truck sped past me and my hair, which I spent hours taming, blew with anger. I turned around, calmed what I could with my reflection and then crossed the street, dodging a bicyclist and a child kicking a ball down the sidewalk.

A break in the line existed right at the entrance, so I squeezed in and found a spot in the corner looking out the window. The table sparkled in the light and a small arrangement of fake flowers sat next to a broken napkin dispenser. I felt something poking me as a crack in the aged 1950s vinyl itched its way through my skirt.

Izzy walked up to my side, set a coffee down and pushed it into my hands.

"You got here early," he said. His hair was a uniformed mess that came off as attractive. Sweat beaded along his brow and he had a bright flush to his cheeks. He placed both hands at his side and smiled. "You really weren't lying."

"Lying?" I asked.

"About having nothing to do," he replied. "I miss sleeping past 4 AM."

"Oh. That," I said. The tingling sensation prevailed and my blush brightened as a swarm of lady bugs attacked my cheeks. The red spots always took forever to go away. I looked outside the window. Next time I'd come later.

Izzy chuckled and squeezed my shoulder. "I have to get back, but I'll bring you a muffin or something when I go on break." I turned my head as his right eye twitched. Did he just wink at me? Damn you, lady bugs!

He walked away and returned to the back. I sipped my coffee and stared at the other tables. A few were occupied; most were empty. The hour moved by slowly as seven met eight and as the line diminished, the dining room became full.

People with purpose. People with plans. People enjoying life.

A young woman began pushing an empty stroller back and forth two tables down from mine. Did she forget her baby wasn't there? An older man sat alone reading the morning paper. Did he lose his wife? And two children ran around grabbing at their mother, while another threw Cheerios at her face. Where was her husband?

I continued to watch the lives of those around me.

The entrance door chimed as a man with an infant headed toward the empty stroller. He placed the baby down and dropped a bag overloaded with toys and diapers. The young woman stopped pushing and froze. She looked down at the older man reading the newspaper and then back at the stroller. Her eyes closed and then opened. The young man rubbed the stubble on his chin and his shoulders dropped. He had dark circles around his eyes and his shirt on inside out. They exchanged no words.

The young woman reached out to touch him, but he turned and walked away. A drop fell from her eyes, down her chin and onto the floor.

The older man stood and embraced the young woman. She breathed heavily and hunched inward—a jacket of disappointment covering her back. The infant began to cry and the young woman snapped. Leaving the embrace, she picked up the child and held it close. Grabbing the bag off the floor, she wiped at her face and headed toward the door. The older man followed behind, pushing the stroller.

She stopped at the door and turned around. She placed a small kiss on the man's left cheek. "Thank you for coming, Daddy," she said.

He rubbed her chin and smiled. "Give him time," he replied.

The three of them proceeded out and down the street. The heavy atmosphere following them.

Was anyone spared? Or did all life come with pain?

Once the bakery slowed, Izzy took a break and joined me.

"Anything interesting?" he asked.

"Do you think people are ever happy?" I asked.

He pushed himself back against the window and propped his legs up on the vinyl seat. "Of course," he said. "Plenty of people are happy."

"Are you?" I asked.

"At the moment, no. At the moment, I'm tired." He yawned into his fist, leaned over the table and grabbed my coffee. "I think I'm immune. It never helps anymore."