Loathing You by Amina Khan
Chapter SIX
J u l i e t t e
Two weeks. I have spent the past two weeks wrecking pure havoc on Adaline Emery. I'm not referring to our usual game of insults or the cattiness that I've become so accustomed to parading around her.
No, this is different. This is unadulterated and cold. It's vicious and it's been prodding at me since that day.
The day that my mother blurted out my family’s secret. The same secret that she had ingrained into me as a child to keep quiet, mostly because of high society and its judgment, but a small part had to have been because of fear—fear of my father.
She was terrified that day. I remember it so vividly. I had just come home from cheerleading practice. My mother had found out that my father was sleeping with his boss and was planning to leave us. Instead of apologizing for his adultery, he threatened and berated her.
He was on top of her, pummelling her face and screaming at her to keep his gay affair a secret. Seeing this, I ran as fast as I could to stop him.
I was foolish to think that scrawny, twelve-year-old me could pull my father off my mother, but I tried so very hard. So hard that he pushed me backwards. I got hurt as a result, so in a way, it stopped him from continuing to beat my mother.
I would have taken as many pushes, punches, and kicks as I could if it meant that he would stop hurting her.
He walked out that day and sent divorce papers the next week, turning my mother from an ally to an enemy. From that day, she didn't despise anyone as much as she despised gay people.
I wanted so terribly to explain to her that it wasn't fair to generalize all gay people just because of my father. Maybe I should have, but I didn't. I couldn't. Not when I saw the bruises that had formed on my mother, both physically and emotionally.
It's as if I had absorbed her pain from that day. I could feel it inside me; it covered every inch of me, rattled me and changed me in unimaginable ways. Now, I was just like her—homophobic and ruthless. I had to be.
Since my father walked out, my mother has been a shell of her past self. She went from loving and bubbly to stoic and unkind to most people, but never to me.
Her mask was so well placed and didn't budge all these years, until that day, when Adaline provoked her. I spent the whole night consoling my mother who was bawling in her bedroom.
It teleported me back to the night I spend cleaning my mother’s wounds and wiping away her tears.
The minuscule, rational part of me knows that Adaline couldn't have possibly known what happened to my mother and I. While she was particularly vicious that day, it wasn't without reason.
After all, I can't blame her for wanting to understand why I hate her so much. Yet, I still can't help but want her to hurt for what she did, because she hurt my mother and she… hurt me.
Yes, I've hurt her, but never like this. I've never spoken about her parents. Not that I could, as I don't know much about them.
I assume her mother died when she was a child, I'd never heard anything about her. I do know that her father hung himself before she came to Richmond academy.
Have I ever spoken about that or thrown it in her face? No, I haven't.
You’ve spoken about her brother, so get off your high horse. Damn this conscience!
I have been vicious toward Adaline these past two weeks; I've spray painted dyke on her locker, burned half of her precious textbooks, and ordered my minions to keep harassing her. I expected her to shout, fight back, and hurt—the same way I'm hurting— but she hasn't.
She just endures it; every insult and shitty thing I spit at her, she takes it. I haven't even spoken to her since that day at my house. I haven't been able to face her because she makes me lose control and if I lose control, I won't be as cruel as I can be. So, I've avoided her and gotten others to do my dirty work for me.
It hasn't bothered her though. She's acting as if nothing has happened and still sends me tutoring notes every day through email—which she no doubt got from Mr Khalid.
As much as I loathe her, I still use the notes every night. I still need to pass biology and stay on the cheerleading squad. I won't let her ruin that.
“Hey, are you okay?” I hear Kai's voice through my phone, which is pressed to my ear, halting my thoughts.
Kai has been resting at home for two weeks ever since he got sick. I have missed him, but the silver lining in this situation is that he hasn't been here to witness what I've been doing to Adaline. If he was, I would never hear the end of it. I'm elated I don't have to deal with his moral high-ground in this instance.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” I tell him, not really knowing if I'm telling the truth or not.
“You sure?” he questions again and before I can respond, he adds, “You've been really quiet these past two weeks. You can always talk to me. You know that right?”
I know that. He's practically the only person I can actually talk to and confide in about how I feel. I should tell him how miserably angry I've been, but I just can't bring myself to. I'm not opening that up, not when I would rather repress my anger and let it fester.
If I talk about it, it will dissipate. Yes, I'll feel better, but who cares? I need to hold onto my fury so I can weaponize it against Adaline.
“Don't worry, I promise I'm fine. Just stressed about the cheerleading tournament coming up.”
Obviously, that's a lie. Why would I be worried about something I excel at so clearly?
“Don't be, you're the most flexible person I know! You're gonna kill it!” he hollers loudly through the phone and I smile, even though I'm sure he has permanently damaged my ear drums.
I giggle. “You're coming right?”
“Of course.”
The pure assurance in which he answers my question always warms my icy heart. He's the only person who comes to any of my cheerleading tournaments.
My mother used to come all the time, but after my dad left her, she stopped coming. She said it reminded her too much of when they used to come to my games together. Couldn't she just try for me?
“I gotta go now,” Kai says through the phone and quickly continues. “My mother is calling me. I'll call you back. Love you!”
“Love you too.” I hang up.
I lean my head against my locker, my head feeling utterly heavy. So much tension is settled within my limbs right now, all because I haven't been able to release it.
The only thing that usually dissipates my tension is when I'm face to face with Adaline, when I play our little game of insults and bother her.
Speaking of the devil, my eyes perk up when I see Adaline sprinting toward the locker room. I stifle a giggle because I know she's running to change her clothes. I made Stacey—the vice-captain of my cheer squad, drown her clothes with raspberry slushie.
Watching glee again gave me the idea and I couldn't help but execute it. She should be happy; I chose her favourite flavour.
Everything inside my mind is screaming at me to stay put, maybe waste some time conversing with people before going to class.
My body however, doesn't agree and that's what leads me to walk after Adaline, following her into the locker room. It was easier to avoid Adaline when I was purposely avoiding seeing her face. I just can't help myself when I see her.
I'm officially saying goodbye to my longest record of avoiding Adaline Emery. I walk in and she's too preoccupied packing her dirty clothes to hear my footsteps.
I notice how quickly she changed her clothes. Her usual blue plaid skirt replaced with grey trousers and her usual white shirt replaced with a navy-blue jumper. I despise that even after she was hit with a slushy, she still looks pretty. Even more so when her jet-black hair is tied up.
My palms sweat when I take note of the exposed baby hairs on the back of her neck. She should tie her hair up more often.
I clear my throat and she looks startled, almost yelping, but when her green eyes meet mine, she relaxes. She really shouldn't.
“What happened to your skirt? Did you have a little accident?” I question in a faux, concerned voice.
She doesn't answer right away, so I take the opportunity to slowly stride toward her. My feet take me right in front of her, not too far, but not too close either. Far enough that we're not touching, but close enough that the scent of raspberry is filling my senses.
“Something like that,” she says, accompanied by a deep sigh, her eyes shimmering with what I can only assume to be exhaustion.
I won't focus on how tired she looks, nor will I focus on how the circles under her eyes are tugging at my chest for some reason.
“At least, it's given you an excuse to change and cover up those hideous legs,” I spit out with a fake smile. My fists clench tightly because I know I'm lying—her legs aren't even close to hideous.
“I'll keep that in mind,” she says, her eyes downcast, a soft smile on her face.
Stop. Stop it. Do something; tear at my hair, wrap your hands around my neck, shout at me for saying something so horrible, call me all the truly terrible names you can muster. Just… do something, Adaline.
“Look at me.” I order coldly and she does instantly. I revel at the way she follows my orders for once, it feels so good. Why does it feel so good when she listens to me?
“Have you told anyone?” I question so softly that I'm surprised she even hears me.
Her eyes soften slightly in understanding. I'm not surprised that I don't have to elaborate, she knows exactly what I'm talking about. I need to know if she's told anyone about my father, whether it’s her friends or her brother.
I need to know what to expect. It didn't occur to me to question her before, because I was avoiding her. My mother herself hasn’t been around much, but I can tell she’s suspicious about anyone finding out.
It would ruin her reputation—her being left for a man. Not only that, but if word got out to my father, maybe he would come back and hurt us.
“No.” She shakes her head, shocked. “Why would I do that?”
To destroy me. To ruin mine and my mother's life. To get back at us for the horrible way we've treated you. I could name a million reasons as to why she would divulge my secret, but here she stands, acting as if it's the most absurd thought.
“Why wouldn't you?” I shoot back, walking closer to her. Her feet move backwards, so now she's backed up against the wall.
I like her like that; her body pressed up against the wall so that she's incapable of running from this—running from me.
“Maybe because I'm not a vile person.”
“Oh, please. We both know you're very capable of being vile. Or did you forget what happened at my house?” I spit out harshly, ignoring that I can feel her breath on me and my own breathing is starting to become heavier.
She sighs. “Juliette, I'm sorry. I am. I didn't know.”
She sounds so genuine, her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes downturned, like she's so desperate for me to understand how apologetic she is—how much she regrets it. Too bad I don't care.
“I don't need your apologies.”
“Then what do you need? It's been weeks and you are relentless. What's going to make you stop?”
I'm affecting her. Is it wrong that affecting her like this makes me happy? I mean of course, I'm appeased that she's exhausted and bothered, but it's not enough. I want more, I need more.
“I want you to hurt…” I lean closer to her, my face inches away from her. “I want it to burn every part of you. I want you to be in so much pain that you can't bear to breathe.”
She blinks. “What do you think the last ten years of my life has been like?”
I'm silent. Rendered speechless by her words, which is quite a rare occurrence for me. My breath is caught in my throat, her words piercing deep into my chest. She could be talking about me, or maybe she’s talking about how miserable her life is. Either way, it’s honest and unexpectedly raw.
The silence piercing the room should alarm me. Anyone could walk in right now and what would they see? Me and Adaline, inches apart, breathing heavily. I can’t even attempt to have a thought, because all I can do is stare at her exhausted face.
My eyes take note of the minuscule beauty mark under her ear; anything to distract me from… her lips.
Now, I'm looking. I don't have another choice. They look soft and her maroon red lipstick looks inviting. It seems as though she doesn't have a choice either because she's staring at my lips too.
Being this close to her, I can almost trace the outline of her lips with my eyes. Not that I can focus on her lips any longer because I feel my neck being pulled from the back, consequently pulling me away from Adaline. “Get off her!”