Hate Is Such a Strong Word...

by Sarah Ayoub

  ‘Do you ever tire of exaggerating?’ I ask. ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. It’s winter – I’ve been wearing tights since May.’

  ‘My point exactly,’ he says. ‘Girls like Vanessa get what they want because they actually do those things. You just make a sob-story musical out of everything and eat your pain’s worth in ice-cream.’

  Sue and I stare at him.

  ‘Speaking of which, you’re getting a little chunky in the thigh area, you may want to lay off the sweet stuff,’ he says, plucking the raspberry twist out of my hands and shoving it into his mouth.

  ‘Honestly, Tom, what’s the matter with you?’ Sue asks, laughing. ‘But seriously, Soph, don’t tell me you’re not interested.’

  I feel trapped. ‘Okay, I’m interested,’ I admit. ‘But what’s the point? Have you seen the girls he’s friends with on Facebook? Or some of the photos he’s been tagged in? Not only do I have to compete with beautiful blondes with tanned legs and not a blemish in sight, but I also have a very enticing angry Lebanese dad and a curfew that wouldn’t have seemed out of place in Nazi Germany. And both of us have the wrath of Vanessa and Zayden and God knows who else hanging over us. So it’s not like we could ever have a functioning relationship.’

  ‘But you’re never going to know unless you suss it out, Soph,’ Thomas says.

  ‘I can’t,’ I say, shrugging. ‘That’s what I mean. There’s too much going against us already. Plus, he’s been weird with me lately, even after the debate.’ I sigh, looking at their sympathetic faces. ‘I honestly thought this year would be different. I wanted a date to the formal, to get ready with Dora, to have someone tell me I look beautiful.’

  Sue hugs me, then rests her head on my shoulder. ‘It’s okay, Sophie.’

  ‘In some respects, it’s more than okay,’ I admit. ‘Like, I’m friends with you guys now, and that makes me really happy. Plus, Thomas tells me I’m beautiful every single day, even if it is in his own twisted way.’

  We giggle and put on another DVD.

  ‘Jacob, stop watching the football and get in here,’ Sue yells. ‘And bring some Doritos – they’re on the kitchen bench.’ She sits back down and passes me a block of chocolate. ‘Two hours till your dad comes to take you home, Soph. We’d better make the most of it.’

  Home. Funny, that’s where it feels like I am right now.

  19

  I hate realising I’m my own worst enemy

  Term three is a mash-up of frantic preparations for our final assessments, hopeless cramming and late-night study sessions. The senior boys’ football team makes it to the semi-finals of the Catholic Boys Athletics Association (CBAA) Rugby League Cup, and Sister Magdalena orders all students from Years Ten, Eleven and Twelve to attend to show their support.

  I sit next to Thomas on the way to the match, and he manages to keep a completely straight face as he explains that Jacob has caught herpes from the old lady who teaches him violin and will be ‘resigning’ from school.

  ‘Where do you get your material?’ I ask. ‘Do you think I was born yesterday? I happen to know that Jacob’s actually getting treated for a rare but highly contagious ear fungus that he caught after years of listening to your bullshit.’

  ‘Well, at least we’re all accustomed to listening to bullshit,’ he replies. ‘Because if we weren’t, your constant protestations about your lack of interest in one Shehadie Goldsmith could actually do our ears some damage.’

  ‘Oh, you smug son of a very nice lady,’ I say, elbowing him and laughing. ‘You know there’s nothing going on there. But seriously, isn’t it cute that Jacob’s gone in early with the team to cover the game for the yearbook?’

  ‘Yeah, Sister Magdalena was so impressed she’ll probably give him a special word of thanks at the school assembly we’ll have after we lose today. Which is great for Jacob – those years of practising photography by taking photos of girls without their knowledge is about to pay off.’

  ‘Oh, for the love of God,’ Sue pipes up from the seat behind us. ‘Would you two cut him some slack? Soph, I expected better from you.’

  I shrug. ‘What can I say? Tom’s pathetic sense of humour is catching.’

  We tumble out of the bus laughing about how none of us understands football and devising a plan to go shopping in Chinatown instead. But, being the nerds we are, we all know we’ll never go through with it. We’re too scared of the Sister Magdalena.

  By the time we’ve filed into our grade’s allotted section in the stands, there’s a potent mix of excitement and tension in the air. Nicole grabs onto both Sue and me, and semi-screeches something so fast that all I register is ‘Oh my God’, ‘Shehadie’ and ‘old school’. Sue holds Nicole by the shoulders and tells her to calm down. It works: Nicole slows down enough for us to understand what she’s saying.

  ‘Oh my God, guys, you are not going to believe this,’ she hisses. ‘We can give up the pretence of going to Chinatown now, because the game’s about to get super interesting. The whole day, actually. I mean, not because I didn’t want to go to Chinatown and all, but –’

  ‘Nicole!’ Thomas snaps. ‘Would you hurry the hell up and get to the point? My pubes are going grey waiting for you!’

  ‘Ewww,’ we reply in unison.

  ‘Seriously, what’s going on?’ he demands.

  ‘Well, remember how Charlie Nehme went to Lebanon in the holidays, and how he missed out on the first two weeks of school?’ she says.

  We nod, waiting for the dramatic bit to begin.

  ‘Well, according to the rules of the CBACCC or whatever the hell it’s called, he can’t play in the final because he hasn’t officially been part of the team for long enough.’

  ‘That’s crazy,’ I say. ‘He’s been playing in both the league and soccer teams since they introduced rep sport to the school.’

  ‘Yeah, but rules are rules,’ she says. ‘So because he’s not playing –’

  ‘Our team’s one man down and Thomas has to play?’ Sue says mischievously.

  Thomas gives Sue a death stare. ‘Heart attacks are a serious issue.’

  Nicole shakes her head. ‘No, it means that Shehadie has to play in his place! Which is bad because –’

  ‘It’s going to give them more of a reason to hate him,’ I finish for her. ‘How awful.’

  ‘No, Soph,’ Nicole says. ‘It’s bad because our school’s playing against his old one. That’s dramatic enough, but it gets better, because Vanessa says that she’s heard our boys are going to alienate him from the game – they think he’s going to try to throw the game so his buddies from his old school win.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ Thomas says. ‘Shehadie hasn’t been made to feel welcome at CSC, but that doesn’t mean he’s low enough to throw a game.’

  ‘Thomas is right,’ I chime in. ‘He’s an honourable guy. Vanessa’s probably being an idiot, but no one can see through it because … well, she’s Vanessa.’

  The others laugh.

  ‘Surely our boys won’t really alienate him from the game,’ I say. ‘That would be crazy. Plus, they’ll get in trouble – they need him. Coach Todd and Mr Shora would never let them live it down.’

  ‘Wake up, Sophie,’ Sue says, gesturing to everyone around us. ‘Look at the way they treat the guy at school. They’re not gonna care if it costs them a game, they’re more concerned with putting up some dumb wall between him and the rest of the school. It’s all about reputation for them – they just want to prove a point.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘What idiots. Do you think we should warn a teacher or something?’

  ‘Nah,’ Sue replies. ‘I reckon it’d make the situation worse. Let’s just sit here and wish we were somewhere else. This game is gonna be like a Band-Aid – the sooner it’s off, the better.’

  As Sue finishes speaking, the teams run out onto the field and hundreds of teenage girls hold their breath. It’s funny – we ignore the guys most of the time at school, but the minute they change
into some sort of sports uniform they’re suddenly worth checking out.

  The whistle blows, signalling the start of the first half. Nothing much happens for the first twenty minutes or so. I spot Shehadie sitting on the bench and wonder if he’s not a very good player.

  ‘He’s quite good, actually,’ Thomas says, reading my mind. ‘But Coach Todd’s all about fairness and equality and team bonding, yada yada yada, so he likes to give everyone a turn. I reckon he’ll go on soon, so yes, girl, you will get to check out his rear in action.’

  I want to smack him, but I can’t help smiling at his fairly accurate assumption.

  ‘Fat lot of good fairness and team bonding are going to do now,’ Sue says, twirling a strand of her wild curls.

  Dad and Andrew aren’t into sports and I haven’t been exposed to much football, so I’m surprised at how interesting I find the game. By the time Shehadie runs onto the field, Sue, Nicole and I have figured out how the rules work. In his footy gear, Shehadie is an absolute hottie. Even watching him run is a turn-on, but the fact that I’m thinking this makes me want to throw up. Luckily the others are too absorbed in the game to notice, even when Shehadie cops a particularly vicious tackle and I leap to my feet in worry. I quickly sit back down, my cheeks burning.

  When the half-time whistle sounds, the score is 14–10 and our school is one try and one conversion away from the lead. As the teams scurry back to their benches, I find I want to discuss the possibilities for the second half with anyone who’ll listen.

  Just then Rita Malkoun walks past with Vanessa, no doubt en route to the toilets to check out their hair. They look my way and giggle. Thomas turns to me and his face says it all: why aren’t you standing up for yourself? So I do.

  ‘What the hell is your problem?’ I ask Rita, ignoring Vanessa. She might be the Queen Bee, but her level of bitchiness is nowhere near her deputy’s.

  Rita laughs again and answers without looking at me, trying to make me feel even more worthless. ‘Don’t worry, Sophie, we weren’t laughing at you. Believe it or not, there are better things to laugh about. Although come to think of it, the way you wear that uniform leaves a lot to be desired. What year is this – 1954?’

  ‘I can’t believe Dora’s hanging out with that girl!’ I say, gritting my teeth as she walks off. ‘I don’t know why she’s being such a bitch all of a sudden – she was perfectly happy ignoring me up until this year. It’s not like I have anything she or Vanessa wants – they did get custody of my best friend, after all. Or former best friend,’ I add.

  ‘Earth to Sophie,’ Thomas replies. ‘They’re ignoring you because a hot piece of intriguing new boy only has eyes for you. Don’t you know they want a monopoly on any new people of interest that come to our school?’

  ‘That’s absolute rubbish,’ I say. ‘They couldn’t give a shit about Shehadie – he’s the foreigner, remember?’ I put finger quotation marks around the word.

  ‘I’m aware of that,’ he says. ‘But every guy who’s ever set foot in this school has made a beeline for them, and he’s the first one who hasn’t. You might only be friends with him because of work, but he pays you all the attention that he’s not paying them. Rita especially can’t stand it. She knows the boys are only interested in Vanessa anyway, so she feels really undermined that as the second-most popular girl she’s still a nobody. Even worse, the person she thinks is a nobody has a cute guy after her, even if – and I mean if – it’s only for friendship.’

  ‘That makes no sense,’ I say, even though on some level I can see his point. I just don’t want to admit it.

  He takes my hand and tugs me back towards our seats. When we sit down, I put my feet up on the chair in front. He smiles at me and then looks away, shaking his head.

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  ‘Rita does have another thing to be jealous of,’ he says. ‘You have the hottest legs in our grade. It’s a downright shame that your netball skirt is double the length of everyone else’s.’

  I lean into him and sigh. ‘I can’t wait to get out of this shallow school and into the big wide world. And don’t make fun of my skirt. What’s the point of wearing it short if I need to keep tugging at it, or whining about how I can’t bend down to pick my bag up? The school needs to hurry up and get us some shorts for netball.’

  ‘That’ll never happen, baby,’ he says. He drops his voice as if he’s about to tell me some deep dark secret. ‘They’re very unflattering and unladylike.’

  ‘So, my kind of style, ay?’ I say, giggling.

  He shrugs. ‘Come to think of it, girl, people are gonna laugh at your clothes whether you’re in school or not. Now come on, there’s a game we gotta finish watching.’

  The second half kicks off and we wait to see the drama unfold. It doesn’t take long to realise that the boys on our team are choosing to make the worst kind of plays instead of passing the ball to Shehadie. It’s as if he isn’t even on the field. To make things worse, the boys from his old school keep taunting him about his new suburb.

  ‘Gonna get any gangsta tattoos now you’re living in the ghetto?’

  ‘Got yourself a dark, hairy girlfriend yet?’

  ‘The move must’ve been convenient for you, Goldie – probably got the head of a drug ring living next door now. You got easy access at all hours of the night?’

  ‘And one of the busiest cop stations around just in case he blows up again, right?’

  From the stand, I can see Shehadie’s face redden. Sue and I look at each other, wondering what the hell the taunts mean. Even Thomas seems confused. Even more distressing is the fact that the coach and teachers from the other school must be able to hear what’s going on, but they don’t do anything.

  The game goes on, its score still 14–10.

  Nicole announces she’s bored and starts filing her nails. She isn’t bored for long, though, because a fight breaks out on the field. The ref calls time out, but by now both teams are caught up in it, except for Shehadie, who appears torn between the two sides. But then someone says something to him and he’s in it too, and all I can see is a group of teenage boys punching and shoving.

  ‘Who’d have thought the Aussie bloke was gonna fight on our side?’ someone behind me says.

  ‘Are they really that surprised?’ Sue asks, leaning over to me.

  ‘Evidently so,’ Thomas scoffs.

  Eventually the fight is over, and although both coaches look mad, they don’t punish any of the players. Zayden kicks the ground in front of him. He’s standing in a little huddle with his friends, while Shehadie’s a few metres away, on his own. My heart seems to stop as Zayden starts walking over to him. But to my surprise, Zayden sticks out his hand and they shake. A moment later, the ref blows the whistle and the game gets going again.

  By the last ten minutes, it’s obvious our team has accepted defeat. But I don’t care. I’m just happy that after months of taunting, it seems like Shehadie’s finally being accepted into the fold. I’m chatting to Nicole when suddenly Thomas grabs me by the shoulders and turns me towards the field. Shehadie has possession of the ball and is powering towards the try line. Ten metres out, he’s about to be tackled by the opposition when he passes to Zayden, who manages to cross the line to score a try. The two boys look at each other for a second, unsure what to do, but then they’re surrounded by the rest of the team, jumping up and down and hugging them.

  In the stands, we’re on our feet as we watch Daniel Abboud successfully kick a goal for conversion. And just like that, we’re in the lead with only a couple of minutes to go.

  When the full-time whistle sounds, there are loud cheers from our side of the stands as we realise the CSC boys have made it to the grand final.

  ‘Wow, talk about a dramatic game,’ Sue says. ‘At least it all worked out in the end. Though I wonder how long it’ll last.’

  ‘I don’t think Zayden and Shehadie are going to be the best of friends,’ I reply. ‘But at least Zayden won’t keep being horrible to him now.’r />
  I see Shehadie separate himself from the team to go talk to a bunch of spectators from his old school. There are a few very pretty girls in the group and they giggle and hug him excitedly. A tall, attractive blonde throws her arms around him, and he gives her a kiss on the cheek.

  Rita sees me watching and sends me an evil little smile. Next to her, Dora shakes her head, looking apologetic.

  Sue sees me staring and tugs at me gently. ‘Come on, Soph, time to go,’ she whispers, reaching for my hand.

  ‘Do you reckon he was popular at his old school?’ I ask, not taking my eyes off him and the girl.

  ‘From what we’re seeing now, I think that’s an understatement,’ she replies, pulling me away.

  I take one final look and follow her, wondering if I’ve stuffed things up with Shehadie for the sake of a few people at school who haven’t proved their worth in all the years I’ve known them. What does that say about me? That I’m weak? A follower? That I’ve thrown his friendship back in his face? That I’ve done the same thing to him that I hated Dora for doing to me?

  Shehadie and I have a lot in common: we’re two peas in a really big pod of indifferent people. We can talk about absolutely anything and still pretend to hate each other, make really dumb jokes and still laugh, tell each other how boring our weekends were with their Saturday chores and supermarket visits with our mother or grandmother and still be interested. I can be myself around him.

  I sigh as the realisation hits me. I’m in love with Shehadie Goldsmith, even though I don’t want to be. Things were easier when I was in love with Zayden Malouf, the guy who can speak my father’s language, who understands all of our traditions. Zayden, or at least some version of him, is the right guy on paper. But that train of thought just reminds me that it’s time I got my head out of books and started living a real life.