Hate Me Read online

  As promised, the principal sent the receptionist to the class with me, where lessons had already begun. I knocked on the door loudly, leaning against the door frame. From the corner of my eye, I could see the receptionist turning to leave, her pink skirt swishing about her ankles. The teacher turned, a graying man with narrowed eyes and horrible dress sense.

  "Who are you? What do you want?" He barked, clearly annoyed at having his lesson disrupted. "You are late."

  "I'm a new student and I was late because I was in the principal's office," I replied, staring at him straight in the eye. "Can I come in now?"

  He tilted his head, as though wondering if I was telling the truth. Finally, he gestured to a seat next to a girl in the third row, still keeping his eyes on me. His face softened when his eyes landed on her, "Miss Lachey will keep an eye on you. She's a wonderful student."

  I pushed myself off the door frame and made my way to the empty seat, studying my table partner. She was certainly pretty, no doubt about that. On her table was a pink organizer, filled with lines and lines of neat handwriting. It took me a moment to realize that she had been copying notes. I snorted, another straight – A student.

  "Uh-oh, he's going to sit next to the ice queen!" A not-very-well concealed whisper came from the other end of the class before muffled laughter erupted. Rolling my eyes, I pulled my sketchbook out of my backpack. I could feel her staring at me, looking at my gelled hair, my eyeliner, my multiple piercings, my leather cords… Finally I turned to meet her icy gray gaze. Now I knew why they called her the ice queen.

  Keeping my face emotionless, I enquired as politely as I could without flaring up, "Yes?" Her lips twitched at one corner, as though she was trying not to smile. She shrugged and gestured to my sketchbook.

  "You draw?" I nodded in response, flipping it open to reveal an intricate sketch of my own name, or my old name. "Mason Gray, huh. My younger sister has a friend by the name of Gray in junior high too."

  "Viper." I sniped without even looking up.

  "What?"

  "Call me Viper. I don't like the name Mason," I clarified, beginning to sketch aimlessly. "And if your sister's in the seventh grade, I have a brother there too." There was no response from her as I continued drawing, my pencil flying across the page. Finally, I

  leant back, fingering my eyebrow ring. Somehow, I had managed to draw a heart engulfed in flames, chained to a rock.

  "What's with that sketch?" Her voice invaded my thoughts. "You seem like you want to have nothing to do with love." I raised an eyebrow at this. Not many people could see that through my drawings so easily.

  "I hate love. Love sucks." I scrawled that last sentence next to my drawing with a flourish. "What's it to you? You're just a girl who believes that oh, my Prince Charming will come for me one day so I just have to sit here and wait." I expected her to laugh, or ignore me for the rest of the day. What I did not expect, was for her to reach over and yank my shirt up, snarling, "Just so you know, I want to have nothing to do with love. Love does not even fucking exist."

  With that, she released my shirt and resumed writing her notes. I was surprised. Very, very surprised. Just as well, she hated love as much as I did. We sat in silence for the rest of the class, with the teacher known as Mr. Drake droning on about World History. Like its name stated, World History was just history, and one thing we learn from history, is that no one ever learns from it. So why bother teaching us all that crap? I spent the rest of my time doodling in my sketch book, filling more blank pages with pictures of swords, skulls, ships and whatnot.

  Soon enough, the bell rang and I gathered my things, leaving the classroom hastily. It was then that I realized I did not even find out her name, besides the fact that her last name was 'Lachey'. I paused, contemplating going back to ask her, then continued walking. It did not matter one slightest bit to me.

  I made my way to the locker designated to me and flung it open, stuffing all my books inside. I watched her walk past me with one of her friends, chattering at high speed. She opened the locker just five doors away from mine. I could see that all her books were arranged neatly, their titles facing out. Squinting, I managed to make out that her books were…

  "Quit staring at my books, Viper. I know they're arranged in alphabetical order." She snapped, her voice carrying a slight tone of amusement. She shut the door softly after retrieving another book and turned to leave with her friend. She actually called me 'Viper'. Frankly, not many girls agreed to call me by the name I wanted them to; they thought 'Mason' was a nice name. In my opinion, however? I thought the name sucked.

  I stared after her before I managed to snap myself out of it. What was I thinking, eyeing a teacher's pet? Sure, I had girlfriends, but they never lasted. I broke their hearts as fast as they came, because I did not want to hear the three words girls were bound to say sometime or other. Consulting my timetable, I noted that my next lesson was English Literature. Why I ever picked this subject, I have no idea. I retrieved the required textbook and sped down the hall. I could feel staring eyes as girls let their eyes travel over my face, albeit a little blatantly. I was reasonably good-looking, that much I had to admit.

  What usually turned the girls off was the fact that I was a Goth, but I liked being a Goth and I'm not going to change myself for them. I never planned to attract girls anyway. My brother, on the other hand, was already breezing through his fifth girlfriend. I couldn't help but smirk. With his dark hair and obsidian black eyes, he had girls falling at his feet every few minutes, even at thirteen. While I, on the other hand, had the trademark blonde hair and blue eyes of a regular heart throb. I didn't bother to keep the blonde hair though; I dyed it jet black regularly, often streaking it with colors like dark purples or reds. I had had quite enough of 'blondie' jokes from the bullies back in my aunt's neighborhood when I was a kid.

  Finally, I managed to make my way to the class, settling myself in the darkest corner possible. Time to draw again…

  Chapter 3

  The Silent Killer

  "They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but love."

  William Shakespeare

  RAYLIN

  I made my way to the cafeteria with Belinda in tow, having placed all my books in my locker. Leila and Calista were already seated there, sipping at their drinks. Leila waved me over, her face a mask of indifference. Just as I was nearing the table, a guy whom I recognized as the school football quarterback waylaid me. Giving him a curt nod, I sidestepped him and slid into the seat next to Leila, swiping her Sprite. She gave me 'the look' and I replaced it immediately, taking a sip from Calista's root beer instead.

  When he didn't leave, I gave him my classic icy glare and acknowledged, "Kenneth."

  "Did I mention you have great hair?" He answered, leaning towards me. Inwardly, I groaned. Kenneth was cute, that much I could accept, but he was also annoying. Horribly annoying at that. Besides, he was sloppy, and I just could not accept sloppiness.

  "I know I have great hair, Kenneth." I complied to his compliment, hoping that he would leave. I got up and moved to the vending machine, dropping the coins in and pressing the buttons for a diet Pepsi and an iced lemon tea for Belinda. Fat hope indeed, he simply followed me all the way back to the table.

  "You have amazing eyes."

  "Of course."

  "…And a wonderfully tiny waist…"

  "Uh-huh."

  "…Superb legs…"

  "Thanks, I try."

  "…A really cute ass…"

  I couldn't even think of an answer to that as I handed Belinda her drink, popping the tab to my own.

  "…You're a really gorgeous babe, Raylin." He finished at long last.

  "Thank you ever so much for your compliments." I turned to my friends, ignoring the skeptical look he gave me.

  "So… will you go out with me?"

  "Get lost." Leila exchanged a glance with Beli
nda and they started sniggering. Kenneth slunk away, with the look of a kicked puppy. I gave a triumphant smirk as Leila spoke up, "Raylin, you're a total silent killer. A gorgeous silent killer."

  I raised an eyebrow at her, taking another sip of my diet coke. I fingered a lock of my hair as I studied the other three girls sitting at the table intently.

  Belinda was texting rapidly, most probably to her current boyfriend, Jake Burton. He was definitely good looking, and had a body to match as well. Besides, he was utterly devoted to our belle, as much as she was to him. Amongst the four of us, Belinda was most likely the only one with an optimistic view of love. She actually told us that she wanted to get married to Jake one day. At this, we had groaned in dismay, but none of us were willing to dash her hopes, so we kept quiet about it.

  As for my bestest friend, with her drop-dead gorgeous looks and ultimate flirting skills, one would think that she had countless boyfriends. Au contraire, Leila did not date. Full stop. Although she was as straight as a ruler and had many admirers, she just could not grasp the concept of having a relationship, since the couple would break up in the end anyway. I don't say the next sentence in a bid to make her sound like a slut, but the most Leila ever went with guys, was to have one night stands.

  Calista, our hazel-eyed hottie, was a serial dater. My definition of serial dater was someone who started another relationship the moment the current one stops. Yet, as wild as she was with relationships, they usually lasted for quite a long time, the longest being one entire year. Currently, her boyfriend was Logan, a Brazilian transfer student.

  And moi? Like Calista, I was a serial dater too. The only difference between us was that my relationships only ever lasted one week or less. I wasn't sure how my life became like this, but I suppose I had been indirectly influenced by my mother. I never muttered 'I love you' to any of my boyfriends, or even remotely hinted it. At the beginning of the relationship, I would establish a rule, only one week and no more. Although I expected no guys to bother hooking up with me once this 'rule' spread through the male half of the school population, they still came rushing. Believe me, I think they do this just so that they can try and prove that someday, just someday, one of them could tame me into being his girlfriend for more than a week. But week after week, they were proved wrong as I gave them the speech at the end of every relationship. I was always the one to ditch the other, always. I made sure of that.

  "No, Cal. I will NOT go out on a date with Pete or Pat, whatever his name is!" Leila was insisting, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest. Her dangling earrings swung against her dark hair as she shook her head once more to emphasize the point. Calista was looking frustrated as she tried to convince Leila to just go on one single movie date, to see how things went.

  "Besides, his name is Paul, not Pete," Calista added, looking at Leila with puppy dog eyes. "It's just one date, what harm can it do?" I hid a smile behind my half-empty can. No one could persuade my best friend to do anything when she was in her stubborn-as-a-mule mood. Again, she shook her head. Throwing her hands in the air, Calista rolled her eyes skywards in defeat. Belinda grinned at me as I grinned back. These little situations happened once every two days, where Calista would find a guy she deemed suitable and met expectations and try to introduce him to Leila. Which of course, fails every single time and none of the guys had yet to meet the 'amazingly hot babe' Calista promised them.

  Belinda firmly believed that one day, Leila would just come around and accept one of these guys whilst I on the other hand, believed the exact opposite. We had made a bet on that, agreeing that it would end at the end of Grade 11, which was this year. I sat up straighter and tugged the sleeves of my top lower. Trying to clear the air between a fuming Calista and a defiant Leila, I asked, "So, what're you girls planning to do after school later on?"

  "Shopping?" Belinda said, her eyes leaving her cellphone screen for a moment to look at us.

  "Movie," Calista suggested, her foul mood gone. "Let's watch a comedy at someone's house or something."

  "Babysitting those twin brothers of mine," Leila piped up wryly. "And Raylin has to go for her job at the book house later doesn't she?" I nodded at her gratefully. She always managed to remember the slightest things without the help of an organizer, especially things that had to do with her friends. Belinda and Calista shrugged in unison, dejected looks coming across their faces.

  I couldn't help but laugh, "You girls still have your boyfriends, don't you?" Almost immediately, they brightened up as each one reached for their phones again to call up their squeezes. I held back laughter as Belinda tried to persuade Jake to go 'take a little walk around the mall' and Calista threatening Logan to 'watch a movie or else'. Leila gave me a helpless shrug as I turned to look at her. She tilted her chin towards the bin and lifted her empty can.

  "Two bucks?" I asked, lifting my can and swigging the last few drops of coke out. She nodded and at the count of three, lifted our arms and watched as the cans flew through the air and landed in the bin. Exchanging a glance, we resumed watching our friends chatter on their phones, knowing that there was no specific winner this time.

  VIPER

  My pencil flew across the page while I took a bite from the sandwich in my hand. Grimacing, I held it away from me. Honestly, you'd think that the school wouldn't try to kill all the students through cafeteria food. Dropping it back into the box it came in, I concentrated on my drawing.

  "Hello, sexy," a husky voice came from my right as a hand trailed down my back. "All alone?" I looked up to meet the eyes of a blonde, her scones practically hanging out of her clothes. Looking away, I blatantly ignored her and continued with my drawing. She laughed, a deep throated laugh at that, and sat down next to me.

  "I couldn't help but notice you were new here, sweetheart. Name's Felicity," she drawled, playing with my leather cords. "Wanna hang out with me after school? I'll show you a real good time." I wriggled my hand away from her grasp and continued drawing.

  "Look, I'm a Goth. I don't do bimbos." I finally spoke, adding the finishing touches. She laughed again. Sweet Satan, her laugh was seriously beginning to irritate me. I glared at her and she placed a manicured hand over her mouth in mock horror.

  "Darlin', I don't mind a little Goth. Besides, don't you think one should have a variety in their lives? I'm sick and tired of all the football and basketball players already," she purred, trailing one long red nail down my cheek. "I want to get to know you."

  Growling, I snapped at her to get lost, just not as politely. I peppered that simple phrase with vulgarities that would have made your grandma's hair curl and a tone that easily meant that I was pissed. Taking the hint at long last, she scowled at me and left, swaying her hips. I rolled my eyes and took a good look at what I had been drawing.

  A youthful female face looked up at me, a tendril of dark hair tickling her cheek. Her eyes were wide and shining, and her full lips were curled into a pretty smile. I stared at the face in confusion, knowing that I recognized this familiar face but just could not place my finger on who it was exactly. I bit my lip, realizing that I didn't put my lip ring in today. Continuing to stare at the sketch, I picked up my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. Then, it struck me.

  "Mom…" Suddenly, all I wanted was to run into her arms like a little boy all over again. I wanted to feel her run her soft hands through my hair, I wanted to inhale the sweet scent of her apple shampoo. I missed her. My heart twanged slightly as I blinked back tears. I couldn't believe I was actually crying over her, something which I had not done for seven whole years.

  Racing through my mind were snapshots of the things I had done with her, all the times we spent together. I remembered us in the then beautiful garden, with me weeding the flowerbeds. I recalled the times she tucked me into bed and gave me a goodnight kiss, her lips brushing against my cheek. My memory provided the video of her picking me up after school, her long and elegant fingers enveloping my small, stubby ones. I traced a finger down the drawing's cheek
. "Mom…"

  "What? Calling for your mommy already, new boy?" A voice sneered from my side. I narrowed my eyes dangerously and turned to face a burly teenager with spiked green hair and a huge nose ring.

  Much as I liked having piercings, I did not exactly take to nose piercings. I mean, what happened if you had a flu? I didn't even want to think about it. He glared at me, eyeballs almost popping out of their sockets. Draped over him was Felicity, who was giving me a malicious look.

  "What do you want?" I heard someone say, before realizing that the someone was me. I felt flames of anger licking at my insides, burning to be released. I suppressed them, not wanting to land in the same trouble that got me expelled from my previous school all over again.

  "What I want, sucker, is to beat you up!" He laughed, putting one arm around Felicity's (thick) waist. "My baby Felicity here, told me that some new boy tried his moves on her. Just so you know, I'm from the wrestling team."

  "Excuse me?" I snorted, trying not to burst out in incredulous laughter. "Are you sure that I was the one trying my moves on her? She was the one who was offering herself up to me, and I'm not even interested in the goods she's trying to sell."

  "Honey, please don't listen to him," Felicity whined, digging her talons into Big Guy's skin. "He's just trying to make me sound like a total slut." Which you are. I thought. Big Guy smiled sickeningly at her, a smile which made my stomach lurch and plead to throw up the half sandwich I downed.

  "You, Goth Boy, are going down." He raised a meaty fist and sent it flying towards me. I side-stepped it easily before landing a punch into his guts. He stumbled backwards, the air having been punched out of him. Raising another fist, he tried to return the blow to me but I dodged it again, giving him a blow to his nose. He fell to his knees on the ground, his nose bleeding.

  Rolling my eyes at his whines of 'it hurts!', I dusted my hands and picked up my sketchbook, leaving for my next class. What a big baby he was! I was actually gloating slightly over my success before someone called out angrily, "Mason Gray! To my office, now." I spun around slowly to come face to face with an irate Madam Pince, the principal. Her lips were pressed into a thin white line as she led me to her office, actually slamming the door shut.