Seeds of Hate (7 page)

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"How come you didn't ask me to leave? Everyone else does." I sought out rejection like a firework on the fourth of July. Setting myself up to not be wanted seemed to be working super.

His mouth opened and shut and then repeated the action. "We don't ask people to leave. They just don't want to be around us."

"Oh," I replied. Bringing my knees to my chest, I realized that my perception of them was wrong. "At least you want to be around each other. That helps."

Izzy chuckled. Most of the students had dispersed behind classroom doors and the chatter and interaction from earlier quieted down.

"Javier doesn't really want to be around anyone. He tolerates me, I think, but I'm okay with that."

I brought my bag in front of me and pretended to look through it, keeping my hands busy. "Trust me," I said. "He does more than tolerate you."

"How would you know?" he asked.

"I live with my godparents." Closing my bag, I pushed it to my side and bounced my feet against the concrete. "My presence is tolerated by them. There's a difference. I know."

He stood up and walked to the trash can, picking up his empty coffee cup. Throwing it in the trash, he turned to me and asked, "How long has it been ... since ... you know ... they died?"

I looked him in the eyes. "I was ten and a half," I replied, my words holding zero emotion.

His foot stopped mid-air as he made his way back from the trash can. "That sucks."

"Yep." My lips popped on the p and echoed against the empty courtyard. "So, how long have you and Javier been friends?" I asked.

"Couple years. Not long actually," he said.

"I got the impression that you were both tight. Thick as thieves. BFFs forever and all that jazz," I replied.

"We're good friends, but it started more out of convenience than choice."

"How so?"

"How long have you gone to our school?" he asked.

"Since freshman year." I wrapped my arms around my knees, holding them close. My right hand twisted the pearl stud in my ear as I reflected on that first year.

"Well, then if you've been paying attention you know no one really likes him."

My finger stopped twisting. "That's not true."

"It is," he said and he grabbed his bag, pulling out a piece of paper.

"No, it's partially true. The girls talk about him and not in a negative way. Most of the guys fear him, except Nathan, and most people have no idea why. They follow Nathan's behavior because, well, he's Nathan."

"If only Javi could hear this," he replied. "He wouldn't believe you though."

I glanced over at the paper he was reading. "Do you have class?"

"Yeah. Do you?"

"Yeah."

I checked my clock. It was ten past the last bell. Go and be tardy or stay and be truant. We both sat still, waiting for the other to make a move. Our bodies were tense, the muscles waiting for a command.

"So how come your friendship was out of convenience?" I asked. He leaned his head back against the wall as I pushed my legs out in front of me and crossed them at the ankles. My skirt had a small hole along the right seam, and I played with it while waiting for his reply.

He had his eyes closed and his feet began to tap each other at the toes. "It's sort of complicated, and I feel if I don't choose my words right, you'll get the wrong idea."

"Honestly, I don't care if you paid each other to be friends. Either way, you seem to like each other now and it's no longer out of convenience. Everyone needs someone. I get it." I more than got it. I envied their relationship. If only high school had a pay-per-session friendship program.

He laughed, the short curls at the crown of his face bouncing in agreement. "No, it's not like that. It started off simple. We were paired freshman year as P.E. partners, but we didn't necessarily like it."

"How come?" I asked.

"Well, Javier has sort of always been intimidating. I was scrawny and pimply and awkward."

"So?"

"So, no one wanted to be paired with me, but Javier didn't know anyone else. We didn't choose each other. We got
stuck
with each other. Of course I was more excited than he was. He looked cool and, as I said, intimidating."

I thought back on my first days of high school, the clouds in the sky moving at the pace of my memories. "I don't remember either of you when we were freshmen." Well, I remembered Javier, but I didn't want to admit that.

"I wouldn't have remembered myself either."

"So what happened after freshmen year?" I asked, watching the clouds take on different shapes.

"We just sort of had an unspoken agreement. Things with Nathan and Javier didn't get really bad until sophomore year, but he was still an ass to him as a freshman. If we ever had a class together we'd always pair up for group projects or assignments. If we had P.E. again, same thing."

Izzy lay down on the concrete, his head resting on his backpack. "One day," he continued, "we both saw each other sitting against opposite ends of this brick wall." He lifted a finger and pointed to the wall he faced and I leaned against. "The next day he just sat next to me and we never questioned it. Eventually, we began to talk, ask questions, pass the time. It wasn't anything personal, really. Just stupid stuff."

"But you seem so close now? Is it still the same?"

"No, it's different. Things changed after sophomore year. We all changed. I still think Javier would prefer to be alone, but I guess now, well, now I know enough to be trusted."

"He doesn't trust people?" I asked.

"On instinct he trusts no one. The last person he trusted before me screwed him."

The clouds had completely run away, leaving a clear sky, but no visible sun. "Nathan?" I asked.

He didn't verbally respond, but he stared at me with hard eyes and then turned back out to stare at the yellow group of benches collected at the center of the courtyard—Nathan's throne.

Izzy looked back at me, the edges of his face softening. "How do you know Javier, anyway? I've never seen the two of you talk."

"We don't really. I made a poor attempt at consoling him the other day when he ventured to the back of campus." I paused and thought about not saying my next words.

"And he talked to you?" he asked.

"I guess so?" Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a piece of chalk and stood up. I walked away from the wall about ten feet and drew eight squares. "He was ... he was crying, I think. I've been there. No one helped me out." I numbered the squares one through eight and then placed the chalk back into my bag.

"Out of what?" he asked.

The ground was clean, but I still searched. Searched for a small rock or a dropped eraser. Bingo. I picked up a lonely penny lying on the ground under the school pay phone. Girls who had boyfriends at other schools would spend the entire lunch period on that thing.

I turned to Izzy. "Out of loneliness," I replied. "He looked like he needed a friend. So I sat down." I placed the penny in the first box and started jumping on one foot—square two, three, and then both feet down on four and five.

"And now you're talking to me because—?" Izzy sat up and watched me. His eyebrows swirled with confusion. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Playing hopscotch," I answered. "And I'm talking to you because Javier's gone. That and I like coffee."

Izzy laughed. "Has anyone ever told you—?"

I kept jumping. One foot on six, two feet on seven and eight and then I flipped around to go back. 'Told me what?"

"That you're ... different," he said.

I stopped with both feet on four and five. "Playing hopscotch? Playing hopscotch makes me different?”

"No, it's the how and the when. And the sweet, little smile on your face when you're doing it," he replied. "I didn't know chalk and a penny could make someone so happy."

I smiled even bigger. "Why is he so unhappy?" I asked.

Izzy frowned, not a simple creasing of the forehead, but a frown that traveled down his face and into his heart. He held his breath while thinking, the frown controlling his response. "I don't know. Like I said, we don't talk much."

I kept jumping. "You don't talk much," I said, my words coming out in spurts that coordinated with my hops. "But you know enough to be trusted." Hop. Hop. "You bring him coffee every day." Hop. "And you now have a friendship not out of convenience." Pause. Breathe. Hop. "But out of choice." I hopped one last time and jumped all the way to the beginning. "You boys sound so complicated."

Izzy stood up and grabbed a rock. He placed it in the first square and started jumping. "How come you don't have any friends?"

I stood to the side, my hands crossed at my chest. "Have you talked to the girls on this campus?" I asked.

"A few. They seem cool enough."

Izzy had a nice face and kind eyes. His short, dark, curly hair was a bit of a toss, but he also had...

"You have a penis," I blurted as Izzy stumbled on square six. "They will like you more by default as long as your face isn't zitty and you open up the door to their car. It's different for girls. Especially girls like me."

"How so?" He looked me up and down. "Besides an adoration for unusual fashion, I don't see any third eyes or unusual facial hair that would alert the masses."

I shrugged and tried to calm my unruly hair that more than likely was sticking out in different directions. "Girls are just mean. They don't need a reason. Sometimes it's just to ensure that they aren't the ones being laughed at."

He jumped to the end and then tossed his rock into square two. "It can't be that bad," he replied.

Izzy. Izzy. Izzy. He obviously didn't know girls. "The second week of my freshman year I was showering after P.E. class." Involuntary shivers ran up and down my spine, so I hopped in place to shoo them away. Then continued. "I didn't shut my locker all the way in the gym because I was afraid I would forget the combination and be stuck in my towel walking to the office. When I got back I couldn't find my underwear." I placed my hands on my butt and rubbed up and down. Underwear on. "I was too embarrassed to ask anyone, so I just got dressed and wore my sweater over my shirt even though it was 90° outside."

"What happened to your underwear?" he asked. His tone and body were carefree. Boys didn't have boobs though, and therefore didn't understand the need for underwear.

"Someone, I still don't know who, took them and wrote my name 'Selah Wonders' across the butt and hung them outside the boys locker room. They left a note next to it that read, 'No need to Wonder what’s Under!' For the rest of the week, people whispered about me behind my back and how I wore grandma panties and a training bra. Some kids even started calling me Fruity since the brand was Fruit of the Loom."

Izzy made a sour face, the kind that comes from sipping on milk a week past the expiration. "Girls really do stuff like that?" he asked.

"Yep," I replied. Walking around the hopscotch squares, I began to kick at the chalk with my feet. "I was mortified and vowed to never shower after P.E. again."

His face relaxed and a faint smile appeared along the edges of his cheeks. "Dudes are not that intense," he replied. "I mean some can be real assholes, but for the most part we just leave each other alone."

I kept kicking. "Or they just leave
you
alone."

"Everyone gets picked on at some point, Selah."

"What's your story then?" I asked.

"I got made fun of for being Jewish." He shrugged, not making a big deal out of it, but joined me in kicking at the chalk. "My full name is Israel and kids would constantly make religious jabs at me."

"How'd you get over it?" I asked.

"I didn't. Javier eventually started calling me Izzy and that ended the majority of it. I think most of them were just afraid to piss him off. I started wearing my hair shorter and that helped too. And then I decided to stop caring."

I thought of the nightmares I had repeatedly over the underwear debacle. "I wish I could stop."

"You can, you just need to find it in you. Or befriend Javier so people stop messing with you," he said with an honest smile across his lips.

"Why do you think they're so afraid?" I asked. "He doesn't scare me."

"I think it's his quiet that's fearful. He rarely talks or approaches others. He's a mystery. You probably don't find that frightening because that's more of who you are naturally. Or what high school has turned you into."

What high school has turned me into? I had never thought of it that way before. Who would I be if I didn't care? We both stopped kicking, the chalk almost absent from the ground.

"Maybe I should start wearing all black. You think that will help?"

He laughed. "I'm not sure you could pull it off. Besides, your clothes are every much you."

I was about to ask him what he meant, but he walked to his bag, brushed the dirt off and knocked twice on the brick wall.

"What was that for?" I asked.

He looked down, his expression quizzical. "What was what for?" he asked.