Page 6 of I Love to Hate You
The call ends, and I calmly place my phone into the cup holder before taking a moment to think. I sit in the car, staring at my house in Strawberry Mansion with disgust as I remember what it is I’m trying to do—how important my task for Justin is. The gutters at the front edge of my home are starting to sag in the wrong direction, causing water to fill up and overflow, and threatening to tear the entire gutter down. My windows need new caulk, because rain has started to make its way inside with every downpour, and if I don't install a new deadbolt soon, I’m sure to be the victim of a break-in. In Strawberry Mansion, it’s only a matter of time.
When you're from where I’m from, life comes at you fast. You don't have time to feel sorry for yourself or slow down to think. All you have time to do is move. You make moves here or you die, and the number of moves that are available to choose from are extremely low, but that doesn't mean you get to be stagnant.
Regardless of the lack of options in Strawberry Mansion, this is life, and it doesn't slow down for anyone. So, the moves you make will probably end up being bad ones that grant you temporary relief from the harshness of your reality—harshness that always returns with a vengeance just when you need a break. There are no time-outs here. All that exists is the human desire to survive by any means necessary, and there are no laws that can deaden that desire. It persists, and only people from areas like this truly understand it. Make no mistake—if you're not from here or somewhere like it, you have no idea what it’s like to live in a place where you have no options that will help you, yet you're still expected to succeed.
My car starts with a bang that resembles a cough, before settling down and idling normally. I take one last glance at my house before reversing from the yard and hitting the road. Unlike some seniors at Temple U, I don't have the luxury of only having a handful of classes. A schedule like that requires taking care of your grades enough to only need a few credits to make it to graduation. People like me still have to attend most of the day in order to walk, so my day starts at eight in the morning like it did when I was in high school.
My attendance at Temple comes courtesy of a hardworking mother who bled for it. She worked her fingers to the bone in order to make enough money to send me to college, and I feel like I’m repaying her by piling a mountain of debt in her lap. Life has been hard enough on her, and the last thing I want to do is make matters worse, but my mother is the kind of mom who insists that her hard work be meaningful, and I’m the type of son who refuses to let her sacrifice be in vain. So as much as college life is the opposite of what I want for myself, I put up with it and force myself to pass these classes because my mom wants it for me. She never moved out of Strawberry Mansion, because she’d rather her money be spent on me going to college. Now it’s my job to become a success so I can move her out of the spot she's in. She took care of me my entire life, now I have to return the favor.
When I get to school, I make my way inside the same way I always do—without saying a word to anyone. I don't want to be here, and I’m certainly not here to make friends, so I try to keep to myself. There are moments when that’s not necessarily possible and I find myself in sticky situations, but I’m okay with that.
The thing about being from Strawberry Mansion is that people from there live by the rule of doing whatever you have to do to survive, and I use that approach in everything I do. The only famous person from Strawberry Mansion is a notorious criminal by the name of Solomon King, who made it from rags to riches through violence and intimidation. Now he’s a business owner in Philly who is looked at the same way we view people who are suspected of being in organized crime without any evidence to prove it—we all know it’s true, but he’s never been caught red-handed so we don'tknowit’s true. Like Solomon King, I’ll do whatever I have to in order to achieve the goal of graduating and making my mother’s dream for me come true. Whatever it takes. Whatever I have to do. Whoever I have to do it to.
My morning classes go by quickly. I sit in the back of every class I attend, saying as little as possible. I only speak when I’m asked a specific question, and at this point, professors tend to act as if I’m not even in the room, so I don't get many questions. It isn’t until it’s close to lunch time that the sound of the day even comes on for me.
I’m not big on eating lunch at school. Usually, I’ll just wait until I’m home again to grab something to eat, unless it’s one of those days where I’m just starving. Today, however, I will go to the cafeteria, but it’s not because I’m hungry.
When I walk in, the place doesn't have a lot of people in it, which makes sense because of the time of year. A lot of the seniors are either leaving school for the day or just arriving, and most people just don’t like to eat here because it makes the place feel like high school. But, I know for a fact that a certain somebody does like to come to the cafeteria every single day. His big brother attends this college as well and is even in the same Retail and Sales Management class as me. I’ve never spoken to this guy before, though. He’s a sophomore, and it’s not like his brother and I are close friends who go to each other’s houses after class. Nonetheless, today we will meet.
I see him come in as I wait at a table close to the stainless steel stands where the food is served. He’s wearing a collared shirt and the demeanor of a kid who is really focused on doing well at Temple. He’s going to make it in life one day, and he knows it. He’ll probably graduate with a perfect GPA and be held in high regard by every member of the staff. He’s probably already halfway there after only a couple of years at the school. He’s so focused on his success that he doesn’t even see me when I approach and stop right next to him. He grabs a red tray for his food, and I do the same but for a different reason.
“Hey,” I say, just before he can tell the lunch lady what he wants.
“Hey,” he responds. When he looks at me, I can tell that he’s bothered by what he sees.
We’re not the same. I don't look like I’m going to be a success with the affinity of the entire staff. I don't look like a success story. My skin is darker than his and has tattoos and scars hinting at my upbringing, while his is blemish-free. My eyes emanate the pain I’ve felt my whole life, and that scares somebody like him—and for good reason.
“You’re Jacob, right?” I ask, furrowing my brow as if deep in thought. “Justin’s little brother?”
“Yeah, Justin’s my brother,” Jacob says. “How doyouknow him?”
Jacob can’t hide the arrogant emphasis he puts on the wordyou,wondering how somebody like me could knowanybodyfrom his family.
“Justin and I share a class,” I reply, gripping the sides of my tray tighter. “In fact, Justin has been helping me pass the class all year. I’ve been asking him for help for the final coming up in a couple weeks, but it seems he’s decided he doesn’t want to help me anymore.”
“Oh?” Jacob says, his mouth flinching with anxiety.
I smile. “Yeah. That’s where you come in.”
He scoffs. “Oh, I see. You want me to beg my brother to tutor you, don’t you? He’s such a nerd, and he’s always handing out charity, but if he doesn’t want to tutor you,bro, he doesn't have to. You people have to learn to help yourselves and stop looking for handouts.”
I squeeze the tray and take one step back. “Hmm. Maybe you're right. I should just take matters into my own hands.”
Before Jacob has a chance to register what’s going on, I lift the tray and swing it like a bat, smashing it across his face. He stumbles backwards, completely stunned, and I lunge for him, crashing my shoulder into his gut and lifting him off the ground before slamming his frail body onto the tile floor. We land with a loudthud, and I get up swinging. I hit Jacob multiple times in the face, shooting blood from his lip with each blow like a sprinkler.
“You little bitch,” I say, leaning forward to be sure he hears me. “You’re gonna tell Justin to do what I asked, or I’m gonna show up to your house and set your goddamn parents bedroom on fire while they’re sleeping. Do you understand me?”
I hit Jacob again with a fist to the side of his eye, giving him an instant bruise as he screams, “Okay! Okay, stop. I’ll tell him.” I manage to get in another punch before I’m yanked up by both of my arms as two staff members and some scrawny campus cop drag me away.
I don't try to fight them, because I already accomplished my goal. I’m destined for another suspension, but it won’t be long enough for me to miss my upcoming final. So I allow these assholes to force me out of the room, but before I go, I take one last look into the cafeteria and see tons of eyes watching me. I hadn't even realized they were there, but now that my adrenaline is slowing down, I feel their glares burning into my skin like lasers.
I hate being stared at, but there’s one set of eyes that grabs my attention as I go. Maybe it’s because they’re hazel, or maybe I recognize the pain in them. I’m not sure what it is, but I see her, and she sees me until the moment the doors close.
Six
~ KENDRICK~
“Aren’t you supposed to be in school? What are you doing here, man?”
