1 Love and hate - 2

Jackson told me … and my brothers never lie.

It was a stupid idea … I know that now … but back then Jason Steward — the local class bully — dared a bunch of us to slip away and investigate the house. Anybody who chickened out would have been labeled a namby-pamby … and knowing Jason … he would make it stick until we graduated. I was not going to sink my social status before it even started. High school was still coming.

However, it didn’t go quite as planned. The outing went haywire. Both Kiara and I got hurt, grounded, and ended up in detention — with Axel. Jason and the runaways never got caught. And we never blabbed them out. I’m no rat. Neither is Kiara nor Axel.

But much good did it do — in the end, my social status still nosedived and sank sensationally in my freshman year — but the two incidents are not related. That’s a whole different story.

But at least some good prevailed from the whole haunted house ordeal — Axel became a very important part of our group, and I learned a thing or two about life.

I should tread lightly when I’m in a haunted house;

I could only trust a handful of people;

And cross-country was not my thing.

Oh, I also had my first BAM moment with some green eyes.

Eyes I would not see again until the first day of my seventh-grade year, starting at Harvard-Westlake. I was annoyed because I landed in the principal’s office … not once, but twice on the same day. Innocently blamed.

Granted — I dumped some pink milk onto a senior’s head and gave Jason a perfect shiner, but it was not undeserved. I don’t like bullies.

Anyway, when Logan called out to me at the end-of-school time, I slammed my locker shut and turned around, ready to share my beef and wail about the unfairness of the system, knowing my brother would at least pretend to understand. Cause Kiara didn’t.

But no words escaped my mouth. My breath and everything else got sucked out with force by teasing bright apple eyes. The hot-as-hell eight-grader standing next to my brother filled out his uniform better than Thor himself ever would, his raven hair was messy, and that skew smile churned the cafeteria food in my tummy.

And BAM — another moment. Same eyes. Same boy. How could it not be fated?

At first, I thought … this is it — the true storybook meet-cute at the locker on the first day of school.

And I felt every feeling in the book. The increased heartbeat, the butterflies, the sweaty palms. I thought for sure he was the one.

But fate laughed in my face — turns out the boy Logan started a lifetime BFF friendship with was the same boy who helped Kiara out of the hole at the haunted house and the same boy who gave me his jacket cause I was cold. But he wasn’t sweet anymore … he turned into an obnoxious, arrogant asshole.

Someone I would learn to hate. And I mean passionately HATE.

Who knew that hate feels disturbingly the same as love … your stomach flips and twists; your heart rate increases way over the limit of normal; you get drunk and high on adrenaline; obsessive thoughts and behaviors cloud your mind; and you feel out of control.

“You still have his jacket in your cupboard?” Kiara flings something against my head. “Don’t you ever learn?”

I stare at the black leather jacket as if seeing it for the first time, and not as if I’ve had it for the past 10 years. Running down the right sleeve is a green M with the words ‘Monster Energy’, while the Reaper skull with wings decorates the other sleeve between smaller patches of different logos. On the back is a huge green number 13.

I quickly fold it and stuff it into my bag. To burn later. Probably.

But Kiara is wrong again. I did learn my lesson. The hard way.

Another piece of clothing hits my head.

“Are you done packing?” she asks. I nod and close the suitcase. I can come back for the rest anytime I want. It’s not as if we’re moving out of state … just to our own beautiful townhouse complex.

The one built on the site of our last family home. The one we only lived in for a month or so, before Mom was murdered … what … eight … almost nine years ago.

The home that mysteriously burnt down to ashes only a week after her death.

Faulty wiring, the investigators said.

It was then that Uncle John decided to build five separate dwellings on the property — one for each kid. It’s ideal … we all stay together but separate. Except for Jackson. He never stays there … gave his place to Axel.

It’s there where we will reside while at Stanford … Kiara is enrolled to study accountancy, while I decided to study art … for now. And then I’ll see where life leads me. I’ll probably keep on freelancing for both Take 2 Interactive and Rockstar games, or I could try getting in at Googleplex or Applepark.

I put the discarded novel on top of my suitcase. I don’t know why I even bother to read it. It’s not well written, the grammar sucks — a bunch of crap, really. And the couple on the cover is so cliché. The whole stereotypical romantic pose makes my skin crawl with frustration. I sigh deeply. I’m so uptight my neck is pulling into a spasm.

“You know he’s going to be here tonight?”

Of course, I know. That’s the whole darn problem.

I hate Damion Grimm so much that I feel sick whenever he’s around and frustrated when he’s not.

He’s like an itch under my skin I just can’t get rid of — and I swear it’s increasing in intensity each year. It’s getting almost unbearable — so much that I’m scared of doing something irresponsible one of these days — like ripping off his balls … or worse … licking them.