Status: Updates Weekly
Bottled Blue
Seven
I hated him. I hated him so much, and there he was, sitting in my bedroom, and I couldn’t get rid of him. He was leaning against the wall on the far side, directly under my hanging clothes. He was slouched on the cushions, flipping through my astronomy book with his eyebrows set in concentration. I was at the complete opposite side of the room, trying to work on the rough draft for our journal entry page.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked, flipping through the pages like he had no idea what he was reading.
“I’d rather you didn’t.” He ignored that.
“Why do you hate me so much?” That question caught me off guard. I thought it was obvious.
“Because you’re an asshole.” He looked up at me.
“I’ve never even really talked to you before this. Except for maybe that time you made out with me in the closet.” I immediately blushed from the memory. For the most part, we pretended it never happened. It was a game of spin-the-bottle during a party we’d both been invited to. I didn’t think it counted, even though it was my first kiss. But he’d kissed me and discarded me. “So why do you hate me?” I went back to my notebook.
“It has nothing to do with that. I don’t like how you treat people.”
“How is that exactly?”
“You just have this—pretentious attitude. It’s the way you hold yourself. Like you’re a fucking God or something because your parents are famous and everyone likes you.” He was quiet, and I wondered if he would say something or if that answer was enough.
“Is that really how you think of me?” he asked. And he sounded genuinely—hurt?
“Yep.”
“Did you know that I didn’t even really hit puberty until like freshman year? People used to bully the shit out of me before then.” I shrugged.
“Bullies usually start out being bullied by others.”
“I’ve never bullied anyone in my life.” I let go of a sarcastic laugh. “Really? Name someone then.” He seemed really irritated and upset. But nowhere near as irritated as I was. I set my notebook aside and leveled my gaze at him.
“My brother, Jett. My older brother.” His black eyebrows furrowed.
“You mean Cameron Inglewood?”
“Yes, Cameron, stupid.” He laughed and twirled his pen in his fingers like a drummer does with drumsticks. It wouldn’t surprise me if he could play the drums too. He was practically the star of our music program. And not because the teachers wanted to suck up to his parents.
“You’re joking, right?” he asked. I went back to my notebook and focused my attention on it.
“I saw what you did to him, okay? I was here when he got home from school covered in blood.”
“Right. I’m sure. Also, pretty sure most of that blood was mine, Aasha. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your brother is a grade-a asshole. I never did anything to him. You want to talk about bullies.”
“You picked on him for two years, Jett!”
“I retaliated. That’s it.” I slammed my notebook back down on the cushions and glowered at him.
“Get out of my room.”
“What?”
“Get. Out. Of. My. Room. Now!”
“You’re serious? You really believe I picked on your poor defenseless brother for no good reason? He was older than me, Aasha. And much, much bigger. You can’t seriously believe that.”
“Get out of my house, Jett!” I yelled. He stuck the book back on the floor and grabbed the strap of his backpack.
“You know, for as smart as you are, you’re actually a complete fucking idiot.” I threw my pen at him, but he swatted it out of the air and stormed down the stairs. I could hear him slam the front door as he left.
The only reason Jett Kanellis ever made it on my radar at all is because I’d never forgotten the day my brother came home from school, swollen and covered in blood. He said Jett did it. My parents called his parents, and everyone was really nice about it. No one pressed charges or anything. But Jett had been a complete asshole to Cameron ever since. And that’s why I hated him. Sure, the fact that he was pretentious and good-looking and had famous parents all played a part in that. But it was mostly just because he’d tortured my brother for two years and now seemed determined to do the same to me.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked, flipping through the pages like he had no idea what he was reading.
“I’d rather you didn’t.” He ignored that.
“Why do you hate me so much?” That question caught me off guard. I thought it was obvious.
“Because you’re an asshole.” He looked up at me.
“I’ve never even really talked to you before this. Except for maybe that time you made out with me in the closet.” I immediately blushed from the memory. For the most part, we pretended it never happened. It was a game of spin-the-bottle during a party we’d both been invited to. I didn’t think it counted, even though it was my first kiss. But he’d kissed me and discarded me. “So why do you hate me?” I went back to my notebook.
“It has nothing to do with that. I don’t like how you treat people.”
“How is that exactly?”
“You just have this—pretentious attitude. It’s the way you hold yourself. Like you’re a fucking God or something because your parents are famous and everyone likes you.” He was quiet, and I wondered if he would say something or if that answer was enough.
“Is that really how you think of me?” he asked. And he sounded genuinely—hurt?
“Yep.”
“Did you know that I didn’t even really hit puberty until like freshman year? People used to bully the shit out of me before then.” I shrugged.
“Bullies usually start out being bullied by others.”
“I’ve never bullied anyone in my life.” I let go of a sarcastic laugh. “Really? Name someone then.” He seemed really irritated and upset. But nowhere near as irritated as I was. I set my notebook aside and leveled my gaze at him.
“My brother, Jett. My older brother.” His black eyebrows furrowed.
“You mean Cameron Inglewood?”
“Yes, Cameron, stupid.” He laughed and twirled his pen in his fingers like a drummer does with drumsticks. It wouldn’t surprise me if he could play the drums too. He was practically the star of our music program. And not because the teachers wanted to suck up to his parents.
“You’re joking, right?” he asked. I went back to my notebook and focused my attention on it.
“I saw what you did to him, okay? I was here when he got home from school covered in blood.”
“Right. I’m sure. Also, pretty sure most of that blood was mine, Aasha. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your brother is a grade-a asshole. I never did anything to him. You want to talk about bullies.”
“You picked on him for two years, Jett!”
“I retaliated. That’s it.” I slammed my notebook back down on the cushions and glowered at him.
“Get out of my room.”
“What?”
“Get. Out. Of. My. Room. Now!”
“You’re serious? You really believe I picked on your poor defenseless brother for no good reason? He was older than me, Aasha. And much, much bigger. You can’t seriously believe that.”
“Get out of my house, Jett!” I yelled. He stuck the book back on the floor and grabbed the strap of his backpack.
“You know, for as smart as you are, you’re actually a complete fucking idiot.” I threw my pen at him, but he swatted it out of the air and stormed down the stairs. I could hear him slam the front door as he left.
The only reason Jett Kanellis ever made it on my radar at all is because I’d never forgotten the day my brother came home from school, swollen and covered in blood. He said Jett did it. My parents called his parents, and everyone was really nice about it. No one pressed charges or anything. But Jett had been a complete asshole to Cameron ever since. And that’s why I hated him. Sure, the fact that he was pretentious and good-looking and had famous parents all played a part in that. But it was mostly just because he’d tortured my brother for two years and now seemed determined to do the same to me.