I Hate You, Love Me

by Jamie Knight

  The group turns to leave and head back down to the dining room. Grandpa grabs my hand to stop me.

  “Brent, wait a moment,” he says.

  “Sure thing, Grandpa,” I say, as I pull up a chair to his bedside.

  We wait in silence for the room to clear. Arron gives me a funny look as he turns to go. I can sense the jealousy he has for my relationship with Grandfather Morgan. But my cousin just shakes his head and walks down the stairs with the others.

  “Brent, listen to me,” Grandpa says, pulling my attention back to him. “I want you to take this contest seriously. It’s very important that you do.”

  “I will,” I tell him.

  He really does seem more serious now. Before I could tell there was a bit of theatrics, but this feels completely real. I do my best to listen and take in his words.

  “Do you know any deserving girl who might be right for you?” he asks. “You know, someone sweet and caring?”

  “Oh wow, Grandpa. I don’t know. Let me think...” Talk about putting me on the spot! I nervously run my hands through my hair. “I can’t say I know of anyone. I’ve barely been dating.”

  “Now think,” he says. “What about that one? The little sister of your friend. The one you’re always talking about.” I shrug my shoulders again. “Brent, I think you know who I mean. The funny one?”

  “Lindsay?” I ask in disbelief. “She gets upset easily. I just like to tease her. I never think about her romantically, certainly not as a potential wife.”

  “Are you sure?” Grandpa asks. He gives me a wink. “Perhaps you should look at her again.”

  I nod, but the thought seems ridiculous. Lindsay is just a silly girl. She’s Robert’s sister and I can’t imagine her as more than that.

  Grandpa takes my hand in his again and gives me a light squeeze. “You should get back to campus. Don’t want to fall behind. And while you’re there, make sure to find a fiancée.”

  I nod. Grandpa means a lot to me. I don’t want to let him down.

  Chapter Three

  Lindsay

  I’ve been back at school for a few weeks now. During that time, I’ve taken Robert’s advice and am doing my best to make some new friends. It took a couple of days to identify the popular girls and then sort through some cliques to find the right group to engage.

  There’s a girl named Sarah who has a loyal entourage. I looked up her last name and she comes from a wealthy family. She is a star lacrosse player and was homecoming queen at her high school. Definitely seems like she knows how to make friends and influence people.

  While studying her group I noticed she and her friends all dress in a similar fashion. Pleated skirts and sweaters or designer jeans and stylish tops, and they almost always wear heels. Throw in some modern sensibilities and there you have it. I am not sure what the exact style is called. I’ll just consider it an amalgam of sorts and it seems like designers matter.

  I don’t have much money to pull off a new wardrobe. But I have put together a few cute outfits Sarah and her friends might take notice of. Fortunately, some of the thrift stores had items to sort through. I looked for brands such as DKNY, Vera Wang and Victoria’s Secret. I even found a piece by Zara. The rest I ordered off brand online at deep discounts.

  I don’t like spending any extra money at all, but I view this as an investment for my future. I simply cannot allow the current status quo to continue. I need to make friends! And besides, the new outfits have helped put more bounce in my step. It’s nice to feel good about myself for once.

  Continuing my research, I also found out the places Sarah and her friends like to hang out. There’s a build-your-own Korean style bowl place they eat at. They also hang out at the coffee shop on campus and basically hold court there. And if it’s nice outside, they take up a huge section of comfy chairs on the patio and sip their lattes. If it is cold or raining, they hang out inside by the fireplace inside. They like to be cozy, it appears and I’m fine with that.

  I have been staying back and out of the way at all of these various locations so I can observe. But today I woke up, and unlike most days, I know things will be different. I have a plan and I’m going to execute it.

  I transferred over to a history class that Sarah is in. I will wait for the right moment, walk up to her in one of my nicest outfits, and then ask a question about what we’ve been studying. She’ll look me over, see the clothes I’m wearing, gauge my positive attitude, and then treat me like a regular person. From there we’ll chat a little more about common things we like, and after that we’ll become the best of friends. Well, it might not happen that fast, but it will be a start. And it starts today!

  I sit in the back of the history class and watch as Sarah and her friends take their spots in front. Everyone knows this is where they always congregate, and they leave the seats open for them. It’s kind of like they have a reserved section at a VIP club. No bottle service I am aware of, but I wouldn’t put it past them. Oh, I’d give anything to be that confident!

  At the end of class all of the students head outside. I know Sarah and her friends hang out for a bit by a piece of modern art in front of the building. It’s an abstract sculpture that goes twenty feet into the air. It’s quite striking, particularly on days when the sky is clear blue. This is one of those days. They usually chat for a few minutes underneath it before breaking off to go to different classes. Today they seem rather animated, as I watch from just inside the door of the building.

  Sarah is clearly the leader and guides the conversation from girl to girl and then back to her. She is like a queen holding court. I want to be a part of her royal party. I need to make this happen and I need to make this happen now. I can’t be on the outside forever.

  I sneak outside, see an opening in the conversation and walk up to the group. I’m definitely a bit nervous. I’ve never been face-to-face with popular, rich girls like this before. Even in high school I never really hung out with any of the uber super popular kids. I was always in study groups or doing homework. I had to get a scholarship to be able to even set foot on this campus. These girls probably never had to work very hard to get anything they wanted. But I don’t hold it against them. I want to be like them.

  They notice me approaching and turn to face me. Sarah is in the middle, flanked on both sides by several members of her squad. She has white-blonde hair styled in beachy waves, and her makeup in on point. She could be a model; she’s even tall enough.

  “Hi there,” I say desperately trying to sound confident. I feel so plain in comparison to these girls.

  “Hello,” one of Sarah’s friends says. “Can we help you?”

  “I’m Lindsay. I just transferred into this class,” I say, turning slightly to awkwardly point at the building we just exited.

  The girl speaking give me a warm smile. “I’m Madison,” she says. “This is Milli, Alison, Brandy and Brit.”

  “Nice to meet you all,” I say. “I just have a question.”

  “What’s on your mind, darlin’?” Sarah asks.

  Her vernacular sets me off for a moment. I hear a slight southern accent, but it’s

  been diluted and refined a bit. I wonder for a moment as to who calls someone “darlin’” these days? But I quickly adjust and adapt to how she speaks and push forward.

  “Do you know how often homework is handed out and how important it is to getting a good grade?” I ask directly. I doubt they like someone who is wishy-washy and flip-flops. “I know in some classes the tests are more important.”

  “It’s best to just do the homework,” Sarah says. “The professor is kind of old school. He likes to grade papers and do things by the book. It’s kind of routine and mundane, but at least you know what you’re getting into.”

  “That’s good to know,” I say, giving her my best smile. “Some classes the homework seems more like practice runs for exams. I’ll make sure to do my best.”

  Speaking of tests and exams, Sarah’s friend Brit eyes me up and do
wn looking at my outfit. She’s wearing a Kate Spade chiffon blouse and so am I. My research is paying off. Like I said, I was always studying in high school. And now, I’m able to apply that skill not only to college work, but also side projects. And during my shopping I was able to locate and purchase an older Kate Spade item of clothing from a thrift store in the downtown area off campus. It was an incredible find because new tops of that brand can run $200 or more.

  “I like your top,” Brit says. “It’s lit.”

  I’m not as versed in slang as I would like to be, but I will catch up fast. I smile, touch my top gently like I don’t realize what I’m wearing, and say thank you. I’m just about to compliment her top, when a noise stops me.

  Suddenly, from across the quad, I hear a familiar voice call out this way. I cringe, because I know who it is. And what he is saying… it’s horribly embarrassing. The timing couldn’t be worse.

  “Franny Flustered! Hey Franny! I can see you!” Brent yells from a distance.

  Sarah’s ears quickly perk up and she turns towards the noise. The other girls look around wondering where the voice is shouting from and to who they are directing the call to.

  “Is someone yelling Franny Flustered?” one of the girls asks. They all look confused.

  “I think that’s Brent Morgan,” Sarah says. She points at Brent and they all turn to look.

  Oh no! This is getting worse and worse. It started off so great too! I was actually making headway. Now all that progress is going to be ruined by that big jerk!

  I feel my face go beet red. It always happens when I get embarrassed or upset. No matter how hard I try to hide my reaction, it never fails to out me. And now Sarah picks up on this tell.

  “Wait a minute...” she says, he eyes going wide. She points at me with one finger. “Is Brent yelling at you?”

  “Yes,” I say with a big sigh. I drop my shoulders and feel like collapsing into myself. “He’s yelling at me. Teasing me.”

  Sarah and the girls immediately break into gossip talk. I’ve never seen a group of girls click in such chatter like this before. I guess I’ve never been exposed to how popular gals act in such situations. But the topic of their discussion is the last thing I want to hear right now.

  “Brent Morgan? Oh...my...god! He is so flippin’ hot,” one of the girls says.

  “He totally is,” Sarah says agreeingly.

  “He has to be the best looking guy on campus,” Alison says. “And have you seen the car he drives? The Ferrari?!”

  “He is not that hot!” I say out loud, clenching my fists at my side. “He’s my brother’s best friend and they’re both dorks.”

  “Who is your brother?” Milli asks.

  “Robert Miller,” I reply.

  “The Robert Miller?” Madison asks to confirm.

  “Yes,” I say.

  They all gasp.

  “Oh...my...god! He has to be even hotter than Brent!” Madison says with a squeal. “You’re so lucky he’s your brother and Brent is his friend.”

  This conversation has taken an odd turn and suddenly I feel too embarrassed to deal. Brent is ruining my chances at making friends and he needs to stop. I look across the quad and see that Brent is tossing a football around with some friends. I need to get over there and let him know what he said was not appreciated. I am so mortified!

  “Excuse me,” I say to the girls.

  I turn make a bee-line directly towards Brent and his friends. After a few steps I pick up the pace. A few yards out he catches the football, turns and sees me.

  “Hey there, Franny Flustered!” Brent says with a laugh.

  I charge him and grab his collar, putting my little fists right under his chin.

  “Whoa, Franny, slow down!” he says, blinking at me with bright green eyes.

  I pull him down by his collar, so he has to look me directly in my face.

  “Stop calling me that!” I yell.

  “Call you what? ‘Franny Flustered’?” he says. “Well guess what, you’re acting like one right now. When the shoe fits--”

  “Shut up!” I command angrily. “Never call me that name ever again. You know how much it embarrasses me.”

  I let loose of his collar. He backs up and adjusts it and his shirt. He starts laughing. His friends join in. I am feeling all alone out here even though I am amongst so many other students.

  “I can’t take you seriously, Lindsay,” he says. “And that’s because you take yourself and everything that happens so seriously. You are always walking around in a huff. That’s why I call you ‘Franny Flustered’.

  I feel as if I might cry. I push him away and walk off. I don’t know where I’m going right now, I just know I want to be far away from Brent.

  The nerve of him! And now he’s totally ruined my chances of being friends with Sarah and her group. I will never ever be cool. I rub my eyes and wipe away tears.

  From across the quad I hear another voice call out. It’s Sarah and she’s saying my name.

  “Lindsay!” she calls loudly.

  I fight back the tears and compose myself by taking a few deep breaths. Sarah and her friends surround me.

  “That was wild,” Madison says. “We could see it all from across the quad. You have some spirit there, sister.”

  “I can’t believe you grabbed him!” Sarah exclaims. “He looked so surprised. You are quite the tigress.”

  Wait, what is happening? Why are they acting nice to me?

  “I don’t know if I could have done that,” Alison says. “He’s a big boy.”

  “With big muscles,” Madison says coyly. “He is a specimen of a man.”

  “I wish he was my boyfriend,” Milli chimes in. The rest nod and they all look like they are daydreaming about Brent.

  Are they acting this way because they like me? Or are they only interested in being friends since I know Brent? Does it really matter? I mean, the goal is to get popular and have people to hang out with. Now it is apparently happening. Does the ends really justify the means?

  It’s been so long since anyone has been interested in anything I’m doing. I’m just going to enjoy the attention for now and worry about everything else later.

  Chapter Four

  Brent

  Four years ago…

  I want to offer my new friend, Robert, a ride back to his home for Christmas Break, but I’m not sure how to ask in a non-offensive way. The guy doesn’t have enough money for a plane ticket and is barely scrounging by to get a ticket for a bus ride. What kind of trip would that be? Two days sitting on a bus doesn’t sound like much fun to me.

  For one thing, from what I’ve seen and read online, how can you sleep upright in those chairs with strangers all around you? And stopping at random places, eating food out of vending machines, seemingly random 3am layovers spent waiting to transfer to another coach. It must be a draining, grueling, and unpleasant experience. And I can save him from that, so I might as well suggest a road trip.

  Robert grew up poor. I can tell he worked hard to get here and still works his butt off to just survive. He cuts the corners he has to to get by. He has probably eaten ramen noodles out of a cup for a month just to fill his belly so he can save the rest of his budget to pay for bus fare. He’s got real determination and I like that in a friend.

  Personally, I will never know what that’s like, to struggle that way, to have to be mindful of every dollar spent. But I’ll also never know that kind of fortitude. It has to build character. I have to imagine you make a choice to either be positive and keep moving ahead, doing your best to improve your station, or you give up and idle through life. Robert is the former, otherwise I would never be considering asking him to join me on this journey. He’s a winner and I like winners.

  I walk into his dorm hall and take the stairs. It’s always good to get a little extra exercise when you can. I run up to the 7th floor and head down his hallway. There’s hip hop music being blasted out of a room. I walk by and instantly start tapping my feet
to the beat. I turn the corner and see Robert’s dorm. This is definitely the quieter section on this floor. This is where actual studying takes place. His door is open, but I knock on it anyway.

  “Hey, Man,” I say, waltzing into his room and flopping into the threadbare beanbag chair by his bed.

  “Brent,” he says with a nod, never taking his eyes off the book he is reading. He is indeed studying, just as I figured he would be.

  “What’cha got going on?” I ask. I lean back into the beanbag and put my hands behind my head.

  “Just studying for the Biology test,” he answers. “Can’t believe they’re springing one on us right before Christmas Break. Don’t they know that our heads aren’t completely here?”

  “They do need to work on when they give out tests,” I say with a laugh. “You’d think with all of the scientific know-how that exists across all academia they would have figured out the optimal time of the day and the best month to test students on their knowledge and abilities.”

  “Exactly!” he says turning to me and closing the book. “They should also apply that methodology to middle school and high school. Back then we had to get up way too early. Sleep deprivation was a big deal. I think it affected our performance.”

  “Look at us,” I say with a chuckle. “We’re just a couple of science nerds.”

  “So true,” he says joining in on the joke.

  The laughter provides a good pause in the discussion. Time now to broach the subject. Hopefully he will be able to swallow his pride and agree to come.

  “I actually came up here to ask you something,” I say. “What do you think about going on the great All-American road trip?”

  “What do you mean?” he inquires.

  “I mean for Christmas Break I drive you back home cross-country. We pack up a couple of bags, jump in my car, and hit the open road,” I explain.

  “Oh, I don’t know if I could put you out like that,” he says with a frown. “Besides, I think I’m just going to take the bus.”