The Shortest Distance Between Love & Hate

by Sandy Hall

  The good news is that the haunted hayride isn’t too terrifying. The even better news is that during one of the jump scares, Paisley grabs my hand for half a second. She drops it just as quickly, but her hand was warm and it felt right in mine.

  I think I’ll chase that feeling.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  -PAISLEY-

  I need to talk to Henry.

  The next morning I wait until nine because that seems like a not completely ludicrous hour to bug someone. I decide to call him, even though the likelihood of him picking up is slim to none.

  I pace in circles while the phone rings. He answers on the third.

  “I’m so confused,” he says by way of greeting. “Do we talk on the phone now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think so. That doesn’t sound like us. I’m going to request that we not do this anymore. Twice in one semester is enough.”

  I ignore him. “How was the party last night? Was it fun?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I don’t know that it was fun in the strictest sense of the word.”

  “Is it your issue or was it a bad party?” I ask.

  “I think it’s a mutual issue.”

  “Was your TA there?”

  “Oh my god, why did I ever tell you about her?”

  “Because I’m your friend. So spill it, Henry.”

  “Yes, she was there.” I can practically hear him blush.

  “Did you talk to her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was she nice to you? Why wasn’t it an awesome party if you got to talk to your crush?”

  “I don’t know, Paisley. It’s really early in the morning. I got home late. And you’re calling me. Forcing me to talk on the phone against my will. I thought there was an emergency.”

  “Well, I just needed to talk to you about something.” I give him the quick and dirty summary of my conversation with Carter. “Why didn’t you ever tell me what happened?”

  “Because he didn’t want anyone to know. And it’s not like I’m super into gossip or anything.”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “It makes him a tiny bit more sympathetic, right?” Henry prods.

  “Yeah, it does.”

  “Did that hurt you to admit?”

  “Yeah, it did.”

  Henry chuckles.

  “I’ve gotten to this place where it feels like I want to be friends with him, but I don’t know.”

  “But you’re just so stubborn. It’s time to get over it. I’m over it. Maybe you should be too.”

  “Even though on top of everything else, he lied to me about who he was?”

  “I mean, that’s up to you, whether you want to get over that. But if you’re just holding a grudge on my behalf, then it’s really, really officially time to stop.”

  “I hate when you get to be the voice of reason.”

  “I’m always the voice of reason.”

  “Then what does that make me?”

  “The voice of chaos.”

  I laugh.

  “Go for it, Paisley. This is me giving you the go-ahead.”

  “Nothing is going to happen, Henry.”

  “Sure. Whatever you say.”

  “But, you know, thanks.”

  We hang up a second later and I lie back in my bed, feeling unburdened. Feeling like something is about to change.

  I decide to make myself a T-shirt that says THE LINE WAS A DOT, referring to how far over the line I was with Carter.

  It’s not exactly an apology T-shirt, but I hope he appreciates it.

  -CARTER-

  Things are looking up for me. Finally.

  A few days after Halloween, everything started getting better. And I’m not entirely sure why. I’m not sure if it was being more open with people in general or just that Paisley and I finally came to an understanding. Or that I started taking responsibility for what was wrong with my life. I don’t know exactly what it was, but everything feels better.

  About a week into November, I go to office hours for General Psych. It seems like even though I have a decent grade in the class, it can’t hurt to find out if there’s anything else I could be doing. Especially with the final paper. It feels like the instructions for it require a PhD. The amount of research alone could take months. Or at least it seems that way.

  Paisley is in the hallway when I walk out.

  “Are you having trouble with this class?” I ask.

  “Um, you could say that. I guess I just want a little clarification. About what exactly is expected of us with this final paper.”

  “Good luck in there. I’m not sure I actually understand it any better than before I went in,” I tell her.

  “See you at work later?” she asks.

  “You know it,” I say.

  Good thing she mentioned it. I’d almost forgotten that we’d been volunteered by Jordan to act as scorekeepers for the volleyball tournament tonight. From six to midnight. What a wild Friday night.

  The only good news is it got us out of working all weekend. I guess Jordan was that desperate for help tonight. I barely remember the last time I got to sleep in on both Saturday and Sunday morning in the same weekend.

  It’s going to be wonderful.

  But first, I have to get through tonight.

  -PAISLEY-

  When I get to work that night, I’m a little intimidated. Apparently, there are going to be four games going on simultaneously for the next six hours.

  “Are we really watching all four games at the same time?” I ask Carter as I sit down next to him at the folding table and chairs.

  “I hope not. I’m still not clear on the details, but Jordan will be right back with the scorecards and rules.”

  Jordan returns and explains that we’ll be in charge of keeping the scores organized. Someone will report the scores to us for each game. We need to know which team is on which court at all times. Luckily, they all have pretty clearly marked shirts.

  On top of that, one of us will be in charge of announcing each game, calling teams to a certain court, and making sure everything goes in a timely fashion.

  “I’ll be here too, of course,” Jordan concludes. “I’ll make sure you know what’s happening. But I’ll also be refereeing one of the games because three different people called out saying they couldn’t make it. You guys are getting major gold stars for being here.”

  Carter and I high-five and then set to work organizing scorecards.

  “I should have brought along a sixty-four pack of crayons,” I say. “It would have helped to color code these things.”

  “I’m pretty sure I saw a variety pack of sharpies in the office last week.”

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” I ask. “Go get them! We only have six minutes until the games start.”

  Carter dashes off to grab the markers, and I continue trying to organize things.

  “I can’t believe how well you two are getting along lately,” Jordan says, coming over to lean on the table.

  “Yeah, we’ve put some stuff behind us.”

  “That’s great. I wish you had done it sooner. You two are definitely going to be my dynamic duo from here on out.”

  “I’m just glad you’re not still pissed off about the hand-dying incident,” I say.

  “Nah, the presentation went well. I’m not sure anyone even noticed. They probably just thought I was really cold.”

  Carter comes back and hands me the pack of markers. There are colors that match all twelve teams in the tournament, so I start writing the team names with the corresponding marker.

  I tell Carter what Jordan said and he laughs.

  “I hope ‘dynamic duo’ isn’t synonymous with keeping us on opening shifts for the rest of our college careers.”

  “Seriously. I nap every afternoon like a newborn. I miss having long luxurious nights of sleep.”

  “Well, we have all weekend.”

  “Most of the weekend. We are giving up our Friday night to do
this,” I remind him.

  “Could be worse,” he says.

  -CARTER-

  The first set of games gets started, and with each point, someone jogs over to us and we make a tally mark. It doesn’t seem like a very good use of time because volleyball points add up quickly. So the runner is pretty much constantly running.

  The first round ends, and we announce the winners. Jordan brings us pizza and says there’re sodas in the fridge if we want them. And obviously, we want them.

  “This might be the best Friday night I’ve had in a while,” Paisley says. “Free pizza? Does it get better than that?”

  “Why do we say Friday night?”

  “Huh?” she asks around a mouthful of cheese.

  “Like, why don’t we say Friday when we mean day and Fri-night when we mean Friday night?”

  “Are you stoned? That’s definitely the kind of question a stoned person would ask.”

  “No, I’m not stoned. I’m serious. This is serious business. I think about this a lot,” I say.

  “There’s a pretty good chance you have too much time on your hands.”

  “Well, I’m going to start a grassroots movement. If you want in, this is your chance.”

  “Do I want in on a grassroots movement to start using Mon-night, Tues-night, Wednes-night in regular conversation? That’s what you’re asking me.”

  “Yes.”

  “I just. I don’t think so. That doesn’t sound like something I’m interested in. But I’ll keep it in mind, in case something changes.”

  “You could make T-shirts for it! We could finance the campaign with T-shirt sales.” I instantly regret bringing up the T-shirts, seeing as how it’s my fault she no longer can sell them.

  But it doesn’t seem to faze her. “They could be like the days of the week underwear, but you know, even more ridiculous.”

  “So you’re in, right?”

  She’s trying her best to keep herself from smiling.

  “Hey, just think if you changed your mind about me, you can change your mind about anything.”

  “Which reminds me,” she says. “I haven’t wanted to be too nosy, but how did the exam go the other day?”

  “Better than expected? But who knows. It seemed awfully easy.”

  “That’s thanks to the Paisley Turner Simple Calculus Method. You’re just seeing the fruits of our labor.”

  We make a little more small talk, and then I suck in a deep breath.

  “So, in the interest of being more open about things, and since you asked me to keep you updated, my mom has a big doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning. I wanted to go home for it, but Thea insisted I didn’t need to. She’s getting a bunch of tests and scans, and I’m really nervous.”

  “I can imagine,” Paisley says carefully.

  “I’m honestly happy to be here or else I’d just be in my room, worrying all night.”

  “This isn’t exactly the best distraction,” she says, gesturing toward the courts. “Or maybe it is. I mean, there’s something sort of chaotic about four volleyball matches at once.”

  “Well, anyway. I guess I just wanted to get that out there.”

  “I could distract you.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. With, like, the kind of games that are usually played on long car rides. Or maybe a series of escalating dares.”

  He laughs. And I laugh with him.

  Jordan stops by in the middle of the third round. Her game is in a time-out because one of the players took a ball to the face.

  “What are you two giggling about over here?” she asks.

  “Nothing much,” I say.

  “Dynamic duo, I tell you,” Jordan says, mostly to herself as she walks away.

  I can tell we’re both blushing, but that’s a good thing, I figure.

  -PAISLEY-

  Now it’s my turn to confess something that I’m nervous about.

  “So I talked to Henry.”

  “About what?” Carter asks only half paying attention to me. He’s tallying up the game from court number three.

  “About you. About what you told me on Halloween. About middle school.”

  He turns to me with a raised eyebrow. “And?”

  “And he confirmed what you said. That was exactly what happened.”

  “Good.”

  I’m about to say something else when a volleyball comes flying toward our table and directly for Carter’s face. I spike it out of the way.

  “Oh my god,” he says. “You saved my life. I saw my whole life flash before my eyes. I thought for sure I was going to die.”

  “I don’t think volleyballs are made to kill people. You would have gotten a pretty bad bloody nose, though.”

  “You are totally my hero.”

  “I will happily accept that title.”

  The time seems to drag after that, even though we play round after round of I Spy. It’s hard to really find new things after a while.

  “I spy with my little eye, someone in a red T-shirt.”

  I roll my eyes. “Carter, there’s a full team of people in red T-shirts. I’m wearing a red T-shirt.”

  “I noticed. I also noticed it has no message.”

  “Sometimes a T-shirt is just a T-shirt.”

  “I’ve gotten used to reading your mood via what it says on your shirt.”

  “Well,” I say. “Today it means that sometimes a T-shirt is just a T-shirt.”

  -CARTER-

  When the games are over, Jordan sends us home.

  “You’re sure you don’t need help cleaning up?” Paisley asks.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I have the third-shift maintenance staff coming soon to help. We finished a little earlier than expected or else they’d already be here.”

  It’s a few minutes past midnight when we get outside. The moon is almost full, and the air is cold enough to see our breaths.

  “Feels like it could snow,” Paisley says.

  “It kind of does.” I pull out my phone and check the temperature. “Although, according to the weather app, it’s forty-two degrees outside, so definitely a little on the warm side for snow.”

  “When did forty-two degrees start to feel so cold?”

  “Because it was seventy, like, last week.”

  “That would be why,” Paisley agrees.

  When we get to the dorm, I don’t want the night to end.

  “I was supposed to go meet Stef at a party at the swim house, but I just can’t quite bring myself to change and head back out.”

  “I totally hear you. But I’m kind of awake.”

  She’s on her phone texting Stef. When she finishes, she looks up at me.

  “Want to come upstairs and watch a movie?” she asks.

  “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  “Not even going to ask what movie? What if I force you to watch a really bad rom-com on Netflix?”

  “Honestly, I like rom-coms, especially the ones on Netflix.”

  We take the elevator up and walk down the hall and around the bend. I’m almost nervous, not sure what “watching a movie on Netflix” means to Paisley. Maybe something could happen tonight.

  But then I notice someone sitting on the floor outside her room, leaning on the door, a backpack at his feet, a textbook open on his lap.

  “Henry?” Paisley asks.

  He looks up.

  And there he is. Henry Lai. The boy who I terrorized in middle school.

  Definitely not the way I expected this evening to go.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  -PAISLEY-

  “Henry?”

  He looks up at me and his whole body radiates stress. I slide down onto the floor next to him.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Uh. Well. I just needed to talk to you. Face-to-face.” He looks over at Carter. Carter sticks his hand out to shake Henry’s, and I feel this inexplicable softness toward him. Even softer when Henry stands to accept the handshake.

  �
�Hey, man,” Carter says. “How are you?”

  “Um. Pretty good, um,” Henry says, glancing between Carter and me. “I hope I’m not interrupting something.”

  “Nothing at all,” Carter says. “We had to work late tonight so I was just escorting Paisley safely to her room.”

  “Barf,” I say. “He was coming up here to watch a movie. But I’ll see you tomorrow, Carter.”

  “Yeah,” he says, nodding, taking the hint. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Hey,” I say, catching his attention as he heads for the stairs. “I hope everything goes really well for your mom.”

  “Thanks,” he says. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  When Carter has retreated into the stairwell, I turn my full attention to Henry.

  “So you didn’t waste any time there, huh?” Henry asks, a grin breaking out on his face. He seems so much more relaxed all of a sudden. He sits back down next to me and starts collecting his belongings. He’d obviously been camped out in the hallway for a while.

  “I mean, we really were working late. He was going to watch a movie with me. That’s all.”

  “Oh right. ‘Watching a movie,’” he says, putting air quotes around the phrase. “That’s obviously some kind of euphemism, I’m sure.”

  I roll my eyes and give him an awkward side hug.

  “I’m glad you’re here. Why are you here?”

  “Can we maybe go inside before I spill my soul?”

  “Oh right, yeah.”

  I open the door. “Why didn’t you text me?”

  “I was going to. I figured you’d be coming home eventually and I had a lot of work to get done. I kind of lost track of time.”

  He sits down at my desk and looks at the pictures I have taped up above it. I take a seat on my bed and squeeze my pillow.

  “It’s good to know you’re a little bit sentimental.”

  “I’m very much sentimental. And I’m happy to see you, but I’m more than a little worried that you’d show up here unannounced. It’s not like you live around the block.”

  “Yeah, the six-hour bus and train ride here was not fun.”