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Bully(40)

By:Penelope Douglas


“So you think I’ll get into Columbia?” I asked as we served each other.

“I have a feeling about these things.”

“Yeah, you also had a feeling my first kiss was going to be epic. We both know how that turned out.” I joked with her, completely content with this moment. The food looked succulent, while the weightless breeze brought the trees to life and the smell of roses to our table.

She started laughing, almost choking on her sip of wine. “You know”—my grandma held up a finger— “in all fairness, I didn’t know your first kiss was going to be with someone you barely knew. I thought it would’ve been that kid next door.”

Jared.

My face instantly fell with the reminder of him. Distant memories of the now-ancient dreams I once had for Jared danced through my head. There were so many times growing up that I wanted to kiss him.

“Just because we hung out when I was a tween doesn’t mean we were into each other like that. We were just friends,” I mumbled, my brow now creased with aggravation. The conversation was pleasant until the subject of him came up.

“No, but it was other things too.” My grandma’s pensive expression made me want to change the subject again. “There were things I’d pick up on. The way you two always had your heads together, the way he would look at you when you didn’t know it,…and the way he would sneak over for sleepovers.”

She drug out the last part slowly, her knowing eyes mocking my wide-eyed expression. Oh, crap!

“You didn’t think I knew about that, did you?” she asked.

Of course I had no idea my grandmother knew about that! From as early in our friendship as I could remember, Jared would climb through the tree between our bedrooms and sneak through my French doors. It wasn’t a lot, just when his mom had been drinking and he needed to get away. Since I always had a queen sized bed, we were very comfortable and maintained our own spaces, even though his hand would eventually find mine during the night.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. We’re not close.” Twirling some pasta around my fork, I stuffed my mouth hoping this subject would end.

“How has he been treating you since you got back?”

Mouth still full, I rolled my eyes and shook my head to indicate that things still weren’t good, and I didn’t care to talk about it.

“Have you ever talked to him like I suggested?” She inquired before starting her salad.

“Grandma, I don’t even care to try. We were friends once; now we’re not. My heart’s not breaking over it,” I lied.

“Tate, I know it hurts. He’s been an ass to you.”

“Really, I couldn’t care less. And even if it did hurt, I certainly wouldn’t let him see it. He’s done horrible things to me, and if my tears are what he needs to get off, then he can suffer. He doesn’t deserve my attention.”

My grandma put her fork down, uneaten salad dipping into the pasta, “Tatum, that’s your mother talking.”

My eyes darted up to her, shocked by her annoyed tone.

“Honey, I loved your mom. We all did. And I know she meant well, trying to teach you to be strong, since she knew she wouldn’t be here to guide you through tough times. But honey, letting yourself be vulnerable isn’t always a weakness. Sometimes, it can be a conscious decision to draw the other person out.”

Even though what my grandma was saying sounded sensible, the idea of approaching Jared for a heart-to-heart triggered my gag reflex. I felt horrible about what I’d said to him today, but it didn’t erase all the crap he’d done from my memory. Seeking him out would make him peel with laughter. That was an image that reeked.

“I don’t care about drawing Jared out. Whatever he’s got up his ass can’t be bad enough to treat people how he does. I don’t care.” His brown eyes flashed in my mind.

“Yes, you do,” my grandma stated flatly. “I know how your mother’s death affected you. I know you want to be a doctor, so you can help people that are hurting the way she was with cancer. I know you take her advice to heart and think everything will be better once you go off to college. But Jared’s faults aren’t the only ones hurting you.”

Throwing my fork down on my plate, I wiped the thin layer of sweat off my brow. How did this get turned around on me? “Now, wait a minute. I’m getting pretty tired of everyone being on his side. He walked away from me.” Huffing back in my chair, I crossed my arms over my chest.

“And you let him, Tate.”

“What the hell was I supposed to do?! He wouldn’t talk to me. I tried.”