I Hate You, Fuller James

by Kelly Anne Blount

  Wren bit her lower lip and smiled. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “‘Shoop’ by Salt-N-Pepa.” I closed my eyes and laughed. “You should hear him rapping it. It’s hilarious.”

  “He’s got good taste in music.” A chuckle escaped Wren’s lips, but she quickly brought her hand to her mouth, quelling the proof that she might have actually been enjoying talking to me.

  We sat in silence for a few seconds, both of us still smiling. “I meant it, though, what I said earlier about meeting your grandpa. He seems like a great guy.”

  Wren didn’t respond. She got this faraway look in her eyes. Then she reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Does he have…um, memory issues?”

  Her head moved up and down slowly. I felt myself pulled into her eyes, warm pools of emerald with flecks of gold. Why hadn’t I noticed how pretty her eyes were before? Had they changed colors? I swear they were a light brown earlier. We’d learned about eye color during a genetics lesson in biology, that they had something to do with incomplete dominance. Either way, Wren’s eyes either looked different colors in different lighting or they straight-up changed color.

  “My great-aunt has Alzheimer’s disease. She lives in a memory care facility now.” Shocked by my own openness, I continued to talk. “It was really hard on the family, but it’s the safest place for her.”

  Wren looked down at the table. “My grandma died three years ago. Gramps started forgetting little things shortly after that. We went from having him over for NBA games and dinner every night to moving him into our spare bedroom in just under six months.”

  “That’s a lot to take on.”

  She shrugged. “When things get tough, you have two options. Pass the buck or stand up to the plate and go to bat for the person you love. The decision was simple.”

  Wow. I had no idea what Wren dealt with on a daily basis. To make it worse, she had to deal with our classmates bullying her. The night we’d stood on the dance floor five years ago came crashing back. I felt like such an asshole. If I hadn’t uttered Marissa’s nickname for Wren so loudly, it might never have caught on. Or, maybe if I hadn’t been such a jerk, I could have told Marissa and my friends to stop calling her Wrentainer. But no, I was too worried about maintaining my popular status.

  It felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on my chest. I had been a gigantic jerk to her five years ago and here I was, doing it again. I needed to figure out a way to make things right, pronto.

  “I don’t know how you handle it all… Taking care of your grandpa, getting perfect grades, taking every AP possible… That’s a lot to deal with.”

  “I’m sure you’ve made sacrifices for your little brother.”

  I thought back to the countless hours my parents spent with him at appointments or by his bed in the hospital. I was there, too, but it was hard during the basketball season. I constantly balanced feelings of guilt and pride. Guilt that my brother had been cursed with a terrible medical condition and pride in myself for working so hard to accomplish my basketball goals. It left me with a sinking sensation in my gut.

  “I always feel like I’m not doing enough.” I was never this honest or open with anyone, but I meant every word that I was saying to her. It was like she had a superpower, one that blasted through my shields and let her into the most personal inner folds of my life.

  Wren shrugged. “You do what you can for family. They’re the most important people in the world.”

  “You’re right.” Wow. I never thought I’d have anything in common with Wren besides basketball. But here we were, two completely different people, with a tragic commonality. Sick family members we’d do anything to help.

  I tilted my chair backward and laced my hands behind my head. “Your gramps knows a ton about basketball. That’s pretty cool. Do you guys watch a lot of games together?” According to Brandon, Wren knew the sport better than just about anyone. She even kept stats for him. Like, proper stats during every game.

  Wren smiled. “Yeah, I love watching games with him. It’s like getting transported back in time. He’s so lucid and with it during the games, kind of like he was when you two were talking last night—well, at least in the beginning. He used to take me to all the high school games and even some college ones when I was a little girl. We’d share popcorn, M&Ms, and a soda. He taught me how to keep stats and everything. It was really special. I go to all our games, I mean, the school games, but it’s too hard on him.” She paused, blinking slowly. “But we still watch them together, every Saturday morning. I pop popcorn, get a bag of M&Ms, and have a soda waiting for him. It’s our special time together.”

  “Wow, that’s really…amazing of you, Wren.”

  “It’s no big deal. I love spending time with my grandpa.” Her cheeks had taken on a pink hue. “It’s so hard to see him struggle. He forgets words and he confuses my mom and me a lot. I try not to let it get me down, but it’s hard. And, lately… Lately, he’s been getting up in the middle of the night. Thankfully, I’m a really light sleeper, so as soon as I hear his door open, I get up and figure out the best way to help him.”

  “I’m sorry you have to go through that. I bet you’re really tired.” I cringed internally as I said the word “bet.”

  “Yeah, well. What can you do, except keep on going?” Wren glanced down at her hands. “Plus, it’s only sleep. I can make up for it in college, right?” She gave me a sad smile.

  “You’re right.” I found myself wanting to reach out to her. Pull her into my arms. Dude. What are you thinking? Get a grip!

  “Anyway,” Wren said, digging her worn personal copy of The Hate U Give out of her backpack. It looked like she’d added more fluorescent Post-it notes. “We should probably talk about the book.” Her voice was softer, unlike the beginning of our tutoring session. Scratch that, for the first time ever, she didn’t sound like she resented having to work with me.

  “Yeah, I read, well, listened to ten chapters.” I grinned, knowing it would impress her. “You would know that if you looked at my text messages.”

  Wren placed her hand on her backpack. That must be where she kept her phone. “Yeah, about that…”

  “Not a big deal. But yeah, yours truly listened to ten chapters.” Bragging about doing my schoolwork? Trying to impress Wren Carter? Did I get transported into a different dimension?

  She arched an eyebrow. “Seriously? You really listened to ten chapters last night?” She paused, studying my face. “You better not be lying to me, James.”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.” I made an X over my chest. “Well, I listened to seven chapters last night and three this morning.” Plopping my backpack onto the table, I slid out my laptop and flipped it open. “Once I started listening, I actually had a hard time stopping. The book is incredible.”

  Wren’s eyebrows knit together. “You really think so? You’re not doing this to try to score suck-up points with your tutor, are you?”

  “Honestly, yes. Oh, I mean, yes to the book being amazing. Not yes that I’m trying to score brownie points with you.” I chuckled. “The themes were really helpful, too.” I opened up the Word doc that I’d typed notes into last night. “I put a few thoughts down here and even came up with an idea for the topic of my paper.”

  Mrs. Parsons walked by us and smiled. The weird thing was, I don’t think I ever saw her teeth when she smiled. It was something my little brother constantly pointed out. When people smile, they either show their top teeth, bottom teeth, both, or no teeth at all. Sometimes, when we’d watch movies together at home, we would bet on what type of smile people had. Whoever won got a handful of Sour Skittles, his favorite snack.

  “Not bad.” Wren still had her eyes glued to the Word document on my computer. “I think Mrs. Brewster will be happy with your proposed topic.”

  Pride swelled in my chest. For the first time in wh
at felt like forever, someone was impressed with me for my ideas, not for how I handled a basketball.

  “Angie Thomas’s Use of Symbolism to Highlight Racism and Police Brutality in Society. It really spoke to me. Everything from the moment Khalil picks up the hairbrush to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.” I felt confident in what I was saying. I could only hope Wren and Mrs. Brewster agreed.

  “Very powerful.” Wren nodded in agreement. “Angie Thomas is hands down one of the most influential authors of our time. She wields words like the Samurai wielded their katana swords.”

  “Definitely.” Damn, speaking of having a way with words. Wren always sounded so smart. “Did you know that part of Darth Vader’s helmet was inspired by the samurai?”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Are you making that up?”

  “No.” I chuckled. “The neck part on his costume was inspired by the samurai’s helmet.”

  “Interesting.” Her eyes met mine. It looked like she was going to smile, like a legit authentic smile, not the type Marissa would plaster across her face.

  “So, ah, I was, um, thinking of stopping by Mrs. Brewster’s classroom before practice started. Maybe she’ll sign off on it early, and I can have an extra day to work on the paper. After I finish listening to the book, I’m going to make an outline. I was hoping you could go over it with me? Make sure I didn’t miss anything important or include anything that doesn’t need to be in there?”

  Wren’s nose wrinkled. I’d never noticed how cute she looked when she did that.

  I never noticed a lot of things about Wren…

  “What? What’s with the look?” The corners of my lips twitched. “You don’t want to review my outline?”

  “Of course I’ll review your outline. It’s, ah, I guess I’m surprised.” Wren picked up a pen and tapped it against her open palm.

  I cocked my head to the side. “Surprised that a slacker actually came through and did the work he said he’d do?”

  “Your words, not mine.” Finally, she returned the smile.

  She was a top-row-teeth smiler. My favorite kind.

  “Listen, I was thinking—” But before I could finish the sentence, my phone buzzed. At the same time, Wren’s phone started vibrating from somewhere in her backpack.

  “That’s weird,” she murmured.

  I guess she didn’t get many texts during the day. I thought I’d turned all my notifications off after lunch. Mrs. Brewster was a stickler about phones—if she caught anyone even looking at theirs, she’d take it and wouldn’t give it back until you had a signed note from your parents. Since being assigned to work with Wren yesterday, I decided keeping it in my bookbag until the end of the day was probably the safest plan. Neither of us needed to get into any more trouble than we were already in.

  Wren reached into her backpack as I unlocked my phone. As soon as I tapped on the notification, my jaw dropped. An anonymous Instagram account, famous for posting gossip, had tagged Wren and me in a picture together. I was standing in her driveway, grinning like a fool. The caption read, “Hookup Alert: Wrentainer lets Fuller James spend the night at her house!”

  Wren’s gasp was audible. By the time I looked up, she was standing and pointing a shaky finger at me. “Did you do this? Is this the reason you kept looking over your shoulder?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I swear, Wren. I didn’t have anything to do with this post.”

  Before I could defend myself any further, TyShaun popped his head into the library. “Wow. You two can’t seem to get enough of each other!” He winked before throwing his head back and laughing. “I’m surprised I didn’t find you in the AV room.” He bent his elbows and brought his arms toward his body in a repetitive motion.

  “Shut up, TyShaun.” Wren’s voice quaked.

  Shit. My mind floated back to last night, when I’d bumped into him outside of Wren’s house. He must have been the one to take the picture and send it to the gossip IG account.

  “The picture is out there.” TyShaun continued laughing, slapping his hand on the side of the door. “You can’t hide your relationship forever.” He held up one finger and winked.

  Oh no. He and Marc must have counted this as step one. My guilty conscience crumbled under the pressure. I opened my mouth to tell TyShaun to screw off, but Wren beat me to it.

  “We aren’t in a relationship!” Wren’s eyes were glossy.

  “You act like this isn’t helping your reputation,” TyShaun said. “Whoever posted that did you a favor, Wrentainer!”

  The librarian stomped toward TyShaun with a scowl on her face. “This is a library, not the mall. Get to class, Mr. Adams. Now.”

  TyShaun winked at me before disappearing around the door. “See ya later, FullTainer.”

  I balled up my fists. He was damn lucky we were teammates.

  By the time I turned my attention back to Wren, she was shoving her book into her backpack. Her hands shook as she attempted to zip it shut.

  “Wren, wait.” I reached across the table, but she pulled back. With tears streaming down her face, she snatched her backpack off the table and bolted toward the doors.

  Chapter Seven

  Wren

  The halls were empty, but that would change as soon as the bell rang. Panicking, I raced to my locker. If I could move quick enough, I’d be able to get all of my books and make it to my car before anyone noticed me.

  My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the lock on my locker. Finally, it clicked, allowing me to open the door and grab my books. There was a small mirror stuck to the inside of the locker door, something left by its previous tenant. My tear-soaked face stared back at me. Luckily, my mascara hadn’t run down my cheeks—yet. I grabbed a tissue and dabbed it carefully underneath my eyes before slamming my locker shut.

  How could I let myself be so stupid? Baring my soul to him? Telling him about Gramps? Fuller had always been a jerk, and this only made that point crystal clear. This would be the last time I let him hurt me.

  Brinnnggggggg. The sound of the final bell of the day echoed throughout the empty hallway. Crap. I’d taken too long. With my arms full of books, I put my head down and continued toward the doors leading to the parking lot.

  “Wren! Wren, wait up!”

  I didn’t turn around. I never wanted to speak to Fuller James again. He might not have taken the picture or even been the one to post it, but I knew he had something to do with it. It explained why he kept glancing over his shoulder. He had clearly been looking for whoever took the picture.

  Worst of all, he hadn’t even tried to deny it, he’d only told TyShaun to shut up.

  A hand touched my shoulder. “Wren, please. Talk to me.”

  I stopped, juggling the textbooks in my arms. “I’m sure this is all some kind of joke to you, but I will not be made the laughingstock of our school again.” My voice cracked. “Unlike some other girls, I don’t get off on the fact that people think we hooked up!”

  “I swear, I didn’t—”

  I didn’t let him finish his sentence. Instead, I pushed past him, bumping against his arm in the process. That’s all it took to send my pile of books flying. They scattered on the linoleum floor with audible thumps.

  Fuller scrambled to help me pick them up as classmates walked by, whispering and laughing.

  “Get away from me! I don’t need your help.” The anger in my voice was palpable.

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  Could this moment get any worse?

  I spun around to find Marissa staring me down. She tapped her stiletto-clad foot. Courtney stood behind her with a wicked grin on her face.

  “Get away from me, Marissa.” Fuller’s voice was low and came out like a growl. “I don’t want anything to do with you right now.”

  Her perfectly shaped eyebrows went up, but only for a second before her face twisted int
o a sneer. “That wasn’t what you were saying two weeks ago.”

  Instead of responding, I grabbed my books from Fuller’s arms and raced down the hallway. Marissa’s cackles chased after me.

  As I made my way outside, I sucked in the fresh air. You’re almost to your car. You only need to hang on for a few more seconds.

  Brandon waved at me from the first row of the parking lot.

  I loved my friends, but right now, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I needed to go home, get into bed, and pull the comforter over my head.

  As soon as I got closer, Brandon frowned. His blue eyes instantly filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  Unable to hold it in any longer, my chest heaved, and a fresh round of tears ran down my cheeks.

  “Oh my gosh! What happened?” Brandon grabbed my books and opened up his car door. “Here, come sit down.”

  “Y-Y-You’re going to be late for practice.” I choked on the words as they left my lips.

  “I don’t care. Get in and tell me what happened.”

  Once I sat down in the passenger’s seat, I completely lost it. I worked hard for my perfect GPA, had two awesome best friends, I took care of my grandpa as best as I could—I was a good person, damn it. But somehow Fuller, TyShaun, Marissa, and an anonymous Instagram account managed to make me feel like I was completely worthless. I’d never even had sex with anyone, but now, half the school thought I was sleeping with Fuller James. Yeah right, like I’d ever stoop to that level of sleaze!

  Several minutes passed before I was able to pull back and show Brandon the post.

  As soon as his blue eyes landed on the picture, his face turned as red as his hair.

  “H-H-He came over to get some notes. You know, for tutoring. He came in, talked to my grandpa about basketball, but when he left, he…he was acting weird. He kept looking over his shoulder. I asked him about it today during study hall. He said it wasn’t what it looked like. Then, boom. This picture is posted.”