Hate by Laurel Curtis Page B

THE LAST MONTH and a half had been easy. School had felt lonely, despite my attempts to stay mired in both Franny and Blane’s lives.
    He acted normal on the outside, greeting me like always, but I knew it was for Franny’s benefit.
    She was acting happier—not happy , by any stretch of the imagination, but happier —and when I greeted Blane, if he just ignored me or maybe even shot me the finger or a look of disdain, I doubted she would like it.
    And Blane knew that. So he didn’t. He said hello when I said it, he forced a smile when I smiled.
    But still, his eyes were dead. When they pointed at me, he made sure they glazed over, and I felt the difference of him looking straight through me.
    I tried to be sarcastic. I tried to pull his banter from within. But none of it worked.
    So I’d carried on. Sitting with them at lunch, saying all the right things, but wishing I could do something, anything to change where we were.
    Unfortunately, I couldn’t.
    I was just one person, and no matter how hard I tried, if the two of them weren’t in the right mindset to keep our real connections, I couldn’t force it.
    But I could hang around until they were ready. Which was my new strategy. Just be there, in the vicinity, so that when they got to their breaking point, I’d have a chance of holding at least one of them together.
    I kind of hated it.
    I was much more of a take action kind of girl. But action wasn’t always the best answer.
    So, time ticked on, and with each passing day, I hated it more.
    That’s right, I hated time. If I’d only known, I would have wished for more.

“HEY LOOK!” I CHEERED SARCASTICALLY. “It’s my bestest, best friend ever!”
    Blane didn’t react, which made me even angrier. The whole point of taunting him like a child had been to get some sort of a reaction.
    “Okay, or not. It could be the guy who can’t stand the sight of me, my mistake,” I added derisively.
    That got a reaction.
    “Whit, you know that’s not true.”
    “Really?” I questioned sarcastically, ready to ask him if he even remembered that it was my birthday this weekend, just a few days before Christmas, but as we climbed the steps I bit down on my tongue.
    This wasn’t the time or the place to lay into him.
    I’d held onto the disbelief and anger for this long, I could keep it sealed up until we got done visiting Franny.
    She’d called in sick to school today, the last day before winter break, so I’d gathered all the books she would need to finish all of her homework.
    Blane just came to see her every day.
    As far as I knew anyway.
    “Franny! God no! Franny! God, baby! Somebody help! Help me!” Blane and I heard as we opened the door to the DePlunzios’ bungalow style house.
    He took off at a run, and I stayed as close on his heels as I could, but he was much faster.
    By the time I made it to Franny’s doorway, Blane had her cradled in his arms.
    But I didn’t miss the noose around her neck and the lack of pallor in her lifeless skin.
    The trauma stuck its boot square in my stomach and shoved, so hard and fast I was powerless to stop it.
    “NO!” I screamed, stumbling backwards and slamming my back into the pictures on their hallway wall. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening!” I cried hoarsely, completely lost to my own world of disbelieving horror.
    My body trembled violently in shock, and it felt like I was the one with the rope around my neck.
    As I struggled for breath, my mind raced to find reason.
    Why was this world so ugly? Why did beautiful people take their own lives? Why couldn’t we convince Franny that she had other options?
    Why was this happening?
    When I looked down, I saw blood on my hands, several pieces of freshly broken glass sparkling amidst it.
    Numbing myself to Gina’s screams, I expected to hear Blane’s cut through. But I heard nothing.
    I didn’t hear him begging for her life, asking her to come back to him, or questioning some unknown entity for a reason why like I