The Hate Between Us, page 5
I wanted to tell him I also didn’t want to be there, not with him breathing down my neck all the time. But there was something in his words that created some spark in me. He kept treating me as if I was worthless, and it was one thing to feel worthless myself and another to let him hammer shame into me every chance he got.
“It’s already bad enough that I have to put up with your behavior every day, but do you see me complaining about it? No. You don’t get to order people around, Jason. You don’t own me.”
He bared his teeth. “You’re just going to be wasting your time, so you might as well not even bother.”
A deep pain split my chest, my retort dying on my lips. He was so cruel.
I couldn’t take it. I didn’t deserve this.
“Leave me alone, Jason.” I rolled my wheelchair to the side to move past him, hoping he wouldn’t stop me this time.
He didn’t, but he also didn’t let me have the last word. “Don’t come to the auditions.”
I didn’t turn.
I didn’t respond either.
Dylan had agreed that eating with Jason wasn’t an option, so we returned to our table, and Seth joined us. I could see Jason wasn’t happy about that since he often sent scowls my way. I didn’t doubt part of the reason for his scowls was because of the play. The look in his eyes from earlier was imprinted on my mind, providing me with more proof why auditioning was a bad idea.
“Don’t look at him,” Dylan said after she caught me looking at Jason for the hundredth time. This particular time I watched him kiss some new girl. The girl was on his lap and had her hands placed on his wide chest like she owned it. His strong arm was wound around her waist, his hand resting close to her breast. A little more and he would cover it.
He broke their kiss to run his hand down the column of her throat, and even from here I could see how dark his eyes were, the intensity in them doing something strange to my belly. For a moment, I saw only lust in his eyes, which brought color to my cheeks.
Biting into my cheek, I forced my gaze away. “I’m trying, but it’s hard when the guy in question is intent on messing with me whenever he gets the chance.”
Seth chuckled. “You really have him worked up.”
I didn’t know how he could talk so nonchalantly about it. “You can say than again.” I poked at the baked fries on my tray idly. “He’s your friend. Is there a chance he’ll drop the attitude?”
His smile disappeared. He took a huge chug of Coke. “Jason’s not a bad person. He’s just going through a lot at the moment, and it was really hard on him when his sis—” He scratched his neck. “You know. His dad doesn’t help.”
“What do you mean his dad doesn’t help?” Dylan asked him.
I didn’t know what Seth was talking about either, but there was one thing—I was pretty sure Jason’s dad was an alcoholic. I’d seen him at Caroline’s trial, and he didn’t leave a good first impression at all.
He was a stereotypical lumberjack—tall and bulky, extra pounds of fat tucked into his flannel shirt, and his long beard unkempt. He didn’t look anything like Jason. He had a benevolent-looking face, but his bloodshot eyes and the stench of booze only worked against his image. He’d mostly complained about the dent the accident had put in his too-thin wallet and treated me as if I didn’t exist.
Seth scratched his neck again. “I don’t know if I should say anything. That’s Jason’s private stuff.”
“Oh, come on,” Dylan pressed. “It’s not like we’re going to broadcast it around the school, right, Kat?” She looked at me, but I just shrugged. I had no trouble reading Seth’s expression. It said I was Jason’s enemy, so I shouldn’t be privy to his personal stuff.
“Sorry, babe. Can’t.”
Dylan huffed. “You’re no fun at all.”
He flicked her nose. “But you still like me.”
She stuck out her tongue at him. “That I do.”
“I just don’t know why he’s holding me accountable, that’s all,” I said.
Seth shrugged. “He’s very close to Caroline. She’s super important to him—maybe the most important person in his life. So, I guess he’s just overprotective.”
“Yes, I know that.” I popped a fry into my mouth. “But that still doesn’t make it right.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
I turned to Dylan. “Ms. Holloway wants me to come to the auditions for the play.”
She didn’t look surprised. “You see? That just proves you should do it.” She reached for my hand, noticing my expression. “Look, I know what you said this morning, but really, you’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Except my face. Even if I listened to you and Ms. Holloway, they don’t need an actress in a wheelchair. The whole school would laugh at me.”
“Why would they laugh at you?” Seth asked. “You’re in a wheelchair, not in a comedy show.”
“Right, like that’s not weird at all.”
He raised his hands in the air. “Hey, you said that, not me.”
“Plus, your buddy doesn’t want me to try out. He eavesdropped on my conversation with Ms. Holloway and didn’t waste time warning me off. Surprise, surprise.”
“So what? Who cares what he wants?” Dylan asked.
“I’d have to deal with him during rehearsals. It would be a nightmare.”
Dylan huffed. “You’re just grasping at straws, finding any reason not to do it.”
I broke a fry in half. “Ms. Holloway told me it would be fun,” I muttered.
Dylan winked at me. “She might be on to something.”
“Don’t pay attention to Jason,” Seth told me. “Coach always tells us, ‘If you want something, grab it by the balls.’ So, go for it.”
I chuckled, surprising myself, because these days real laughter was a feat.
An even bigger surprise was that I was considering it. Wondering what it would be to act in that play.
To act again.
And as my eyes strayed over to Jason and found him looking at me, I thought I could give it a shot.
To spite Jason, if nothing else.
The night was thick, pulsating strongly. It was all around me.
All around me . . .
Two flashes of light . . . They were coming for me. Fast.
They were so close!
I—
Pain hit me, and for a whole second, it was all I could feel.
There was so much pain!
And then . . .
Nothing.
I snapped my eyes open, taking a gulp of air. My heart was hammering in my chest. I rolled to my back and sat up, reaching for the switch on my nightstand lamp. Light filled the room, but the darkness converging around my eyes remained, and I had to blink away that image from my dream. No, not a dream. A nightmare. The second in the last ten days.
I willed myself to take deep breaths and fought against the fog in my mind, but it was impossible. The fog was strong, creating a block in my memories and denying me answers.
Ever since that night, I’d occasionally had nightmares and flashbacks, and they were always the same—the darkness of that night and then two blinding flashes of light before absolute nothingness. The images were like pieces of a puzzle, but they never offered me the full picture. I’d thought in time I’d be able to unlock more, retrieve some memory of that day, but there had been no progress.
I curled my fingers around the sheets and willed myself to forget about it. I felt restless, but I knew that if I gave in to it, I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I took a sip of water and sank back down in my bed, repositioning the pillow under my hips and resuming my previous position on my stomach. The pillow under my head felt too hard, and the covers felt itchy, but I closed my eyes and willed myself to count breaths. And then sheep. And soon, I was asleep again, my nightmare forgotten.
The next day, I headed for the girls’ locker room before the other girls came to change for PE. It was empty when I arrived, just as I’d wanted. The previous week, the girls hadn’t hidden their curiosity when I started taking off my jeans and T-shirt, and it had been a humiliating experience. Especially when I’d transferred to the bench and started wiggling out of my jeans. The silence at that time had been deafening.
This time, I’d come to school in sweatpants, so all I had to do was swap T-shirts. I did it before any other girls arrived and entered the gym with a few minutes to spare. Liam was already here, shooting three-pointers.
I stopped close to the bench and smiled when he scored for the fourth time in a row. I clapped my hands.
He spun around, noticing me. A slow smile spread over his features as he took me in.
“You’re good.”
“How long have you been there watching me?”
I half-smiled. “Long enough.”
His steps were slow as he approached me, bouncing the ball. I took a few moments to study him. He was dressed in the basketball team’s uniform, and I remembered he’d joined the basketball team when he’d returned from studying abroad. He’d become even more muscular since last school year, and his face had gained an edge that hadn’t been there before. It gave him a mysterious vibe, which girls were digging. He was, without a doubt, beautiful.
He stopped right in front of me and flashed me a wide, teasing smile. “Want to take a picture of me?”
My smile faltered for a second as I realized he was flirting. That was new. Not only because he’d never flirted with me before—we hadn’t had that kind of relationship—but also because I was in a wheelchair and I . . . I’d just assumed no one would want to come on to me anymore.
I scratched a spot on my nape. “Those three-pointers were impressive.”
His gaze held mine as he studied me in a silence that stretched uncomfortably.
I wiggled my lips left and right. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
“Only your gorgeous eyes and smile.” He winked at me, and I blushed momentarily.
I didn’t get to answer him because our classmates started pouring in, along with Mr. Fay. He smiled when he saw us and approached us.
“You two are here. Perfect. Katie, I’m assigning Liam to assist you in PE.”
I divided a surprised look between them. “You are?”
Mr. Fay nodded. “Liam offered since he has experience playing basketball with kids in wheelchairs. He’s the perfect guy to help you.” He assigned us to the basketball hoop at the side of the gym, diagonal to the hoop Jason and his friends were currently using. “If you need anything, just call me.”
I gave Liam a look under my lashes when Mr. Fay left us to it. “You offered? Why?”
“You heard him. I’ve played ball with kids with disabilities.” He wet his lower lip. “And maybe I like helping damsels in distress.” He winked.
I couldn’t help but feel he was pulling my leg here. He was acting charming, but for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why he would be interested in me.
“Why me? I mean, look at me.” I pointed at myself. “Why would you waste your time on me?”
His brows knitted together above his eyes. “Maybe I just want to be friends with you. Like before? Or maybe I just don’t care about your wheelchair and want to get to know you better. That’s not a waste of time to me.”
Something warm suffused my chest. He was the first person besides Dylan to openly offer their friendship to me since the accident.
Suddenly, I felt bad for doubting him. “Sorry. You must think I’m a bitch.”
“Not really. A little bit serious but not a bitch.” A dimple appeared on his cheek as he half-smiled, and it was impossible not to return his smile. “Shall we?” He motioned to the basketball hoop, and I followed after him.
“So. You’ve played basketball with kids in wheelchairs. How did that happen?”
He didn’t reply immediately, and for a second, I thought he hadn’t heard me. I was about to repeat my question when he said, “Uh, it just happened.”
“When?”
Another short pause. “A really long time ago.”
Oookay. We stopped at the hoop, and I intercepted Jason’s cold gaze. My lips thinned to a hard line. I turned to Liam.
He spun the ball on his finger. “Do you know how to play basketball?”
“I played a little a few years ago. I don’t remember much.”
“Then we’ll start with the basics. Catch.”
He tossed me the ball, and we started practicing passing and shooting. Somehow, Liam helped me take my mind off bad things, allowing me to enjoy PE more than I’d thought possible, and not even Jason’s occasional scowls could spoil it.
At least Jason didn’t go out of his way to antagonize me.
If only that could last.
Jason kept his distance for the next few days, thankfully, making it one less reason for me not to look forward to school. About ninety-nine reasons left.
It was hard to concentrate on my studies when all I kept thinking about were my disadvantages. It was extremely humiliating when the teacher called me to the board to solve an equation in calculus, only for her to realize she’d written it too high up for me to reach.
It was even more humiliating when I had to use the restroom because the only one that was accessible was out of order. Dylan helped me transfer from my chair to the toilet each time because the stalls were too small for my wheelchair to enter, and there were no grab bars to help me maneuver, either. Dylan never said a word, acting as though she enjoyed nothing more than to transfer paralyzed people to toilets, but I hated that I had to bother her with that. It stripped me of my independence.
That was one of the things that hurt the most about my situation. That, and the pity. God, the pity. I saw it in so many eyes, heard it in so many whispered words. It was too much.
“I wonder if she’ll ever be able to get a boyfriend,” I heard one girl say as I passed her and her friends on Friday.
“I wonder if she can have sex,” her guy friend added.
Another guy said, “Honestly? I’d never fuck that. She’s not that pretty anyway.”
“Yeah,” the girl agreed. “The poor thing doesn’t have much going for her.”
“And imagine the guy who’d fuck her. He’d have his hands full with her,” the first guy said.
Pain cut through my chest, and my breathing became irregular. No matter how deeply I inhaled, I just couldn’t get enough air, and I hurried to hide behind the nearest staircase. The restroom was too far away.
The moment I was out of sight, I bent over. My heart was pumping too fast.
Relax, Katie. Take slow breaths. Take slow breaths.
I started panting. I closed my eyes as the fear gripped me more tightly. My heart was now pounding too fast.
Relax! Breathe slowly!
Come on . . .
My vision started to blur, and I was almost drowning in fear. Just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to calm down and would have to scream for help, my breathing started getting back under control. It took several minutes before my pulse returned to normal. Once it did, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, pressing a hand against my mouth to suppress a sob. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
My life sucked. Sucked, sucked, sucked.
It would always be like this. I would always be seen as something weird, something ugly. And those people were right—no one would want me like this. I was an abomination.
Already slipping into the familiar phase of self-loathing, I couldn’t find the strength to move. The exit was across from me in the distance, and for a minute, I thought to just cut class and go home.
But the only thing that kept me in place was that I only had one more class and this school week would be over. Just one more class and then I could leave all the stares and whispers behind for a little while.
If I didn’t go to the auditions, that was.
Ms. Holloway had sent me the script on Tuesday, but I hadn’t read it until previous night, when I finally gave in to the pull of it.
The Promise of Tomorrow was about a teenage girl named Chloe, who was struggling with cancer, and her friend and then boyfriend Nathan, who showed her there was always a reason to fight and live. The story was high quality. It was poignant and emotional, and I just knew it would bring people to tears and make them feel. It was something you couldn’t help but want to be part of, and it offered roles any actor who was serious about their craft would want.
So, I focused on the character of Chloe’s mom. She was complex enough. That role didn’t seem to require walking, and the character didn’t have that many appearances. It was a win-win situation—I wouldn’t be in the spotlight, but I’d be there, so Dylan or Ms. Holloway couldn’t say I hadn’t even tried.
After hours of considering whether to audition or not, rereading the parts with Chloe’s mom, and trying to fall asleep only to fail miserably at it, I set off for auditions.
Dad drove me in our minivan, a small smile playing on his lips. He’d smiled so rarely lately. He and Mom were happy to hear I was giving auditions a shot. They were more excited about it than I was.
His gaze was firmly on the road ahead, and I took a moment to study him. His face had aged rapidly since my accident, too. Three horizontal lines were etched deeply into his forehead, and the webs of wrinkles surrounding his eyes and mouth were more prominent than ever. His tall body seemed taller due to his unintentional weight loss, and his clothes almost swallowed him. The shadows around his eyes testified of long doubles and a lack of sleep. He’d always tried hard to appear strong in front of me, but I noticed in the moments when he thought I wasn’t watching—he’d yielded under the harsh current of life.
My nerves were frayed by the time he pulled into the parking space and helped me settle into my chair. I’d forgotten how terrifying auditioning was. It had always been nerve-wrecking to try out in front of others who wanted the same role, to work under pressure and fiercely hope you didn’t mess it up. It was a psychological minefield.
But it felt even scarier now, after months of being dead inside. I had nothing to lose and I didn’t care if I didn’t get a role, I repeated to myself, but I knew that was a lie. In spite of everything, I cared enough to feel nauseated, thinking how much I wanted to win a role. Surprise, surprise.
