The Boy I Once Hated: Love & Hate Duet

Seventeen years old

One year later

‘You’re coming and that’s the end of it,’ Daisy commands after stealing my laptop off my bed in front of me and holding it hostage behind her back.

‘Fat chance that’s happening. Give it to me!” I order just as loud, going up to my knees on the mattress and swinging my arms aimlessly about in the hopes I’ll grab hold of my irritating big sister and rescue my laptop.

“Fat chance that’s happening,” she parrots, stepping farther away from my grasp.

“Damn it, Daisy. I told you before that I don’t want to go to a stupid party.”

“Too bad. You’re going.”

Nope.

Not happening.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t stay home tonight?’ I exclaim, annoyed.

“Because!” she shouts out, just as irritated.

“That isn’t a reason.”

“Fine! You want a reason? Then how is this one for size? We’ve been living in Thatcher’s Bay for over a year now and you still haven’t made one friend. One friend, Sky,” she repeats, frustrated.

“Kyle is my friend,” I defend, even though we’ve hardly spoken to one another all summer. In fact after the Homecoming debacle, he’s kept me at arm’s length. Not that I blame him.

“No, Kyle is a fuck boy who wants to get into your pants. There’s a difference,” she deadpans. “Enough is enough, Sky. You’ve spent most of our summer vacation locked inside this house like some kind of hermit. If you refuse to put yourself out there willingly, then you best believe I’ll force you to.”

“Argh! I hate it when you start babbling and it actually starts making sense. You are not my favorite person right now, I can tell you that much,” I mumble, falling back to sit on my haunches in defeat.

“Yeah, I am.” She smiles triumphantly. “Come on, sis. You have to admit you need a bit of fun, and what better way to get it than going to a back-to-school party?’

‘I think you must have me confused with another sister I don’t know about. I’m not a big partier. That’s you. Not me.” I pout, loathing the idea of going to some stranger’s house filled with kids who hate me on mere principle alone.

Whoever will be at that party will undoubtedly be from Bayshore High, and we all know I didn’t exactly make a big splash when I dipped my toes in that cesspool.

I have Noah to thank for that.

Just the thought of having to interact with actual people has me cringing and hugging my pillow tightly to my chest.

Knowing the reason behind my reluctance, Daisy places my laptop on my desk and then crawls over to me on the bed until she’s sitting cross-legged right beside me.

‘It’s one party, Sky. Not a death sentence,” she says softly, running her fingers soothingly through my hair. “You can’t stay cooped inside this house all the time. It isn’t healthy.”

“And getting groped by drunk football players is?” I raise my brows to my hairline.

“You’re exaggerating. Hooking up or getting drunk aren’t the only things that happen at parties. There’s dancing, music—”

“Beer pong,” I add with a roll of the eye.

“Probably.” She laughs, amused. “But it beats staying locked away in this room all the time. Or did you plan on being a shut-in until you graduated high school?”

‘The thought did cross my mind,” I snicker. “Besides, I’ll have more fun on my own here than I will at some lame-ass party anyway.’

‘How can you say that when you haven’t even tried?” she counters with a tender smile. “Okay, let me put this in a way you’ll understand. Do you want to be a great writer or not?” My forehead instantly wrinkles, wondering where she’s going with this. “Aren’t you always saying that you need to experience life in order to be a great writer? Don’t you want to be the next Hemingway, or Plath, or even the next Virginia Woolf? Well, guess what, squirt? They lived a full life, which means you’ll have to, too. You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

“All those writers committed suicide in the end, so you’re not making a very good point, Daisy.” I shrug with a smug grin.

“Jesus, give me strength!” she blurts out, hands pressed together in prayer and raising her sights to the ceiling to the Almighty himself before laying her eyes on me again. When she finds that all her pleas and prayers are going unheard, Daisy takes a different approach to her dilemma.

“You know what?” she starts, dead serious. “Enough with the pep talk. Just get your ass up and get dressed. I’m not moving an inch until you’re ready to leave with me.”

“Then I guess no one is going anywhere tonight and you’re stuck spending your Saturday night at home with me.” I smirk.

“Oh no, I’m not. And neither are you,” she says before trying to push me off the bed with her bare feet.

“Daisy, stop!” I giggle, clutching the duvet underneath me to keep my balance.

“I’ll stop when your ass is up,” she heaves out, doing her best to push me to the floor.

When she successfully gets her way and I fall to the floor, she lets out a victorious cry.

I should have remembered that Daisy doesn’t like people telling her no. She’s more stubborn than I am, and that’s saying something.

“Fine,” I relent, brushing off my knees as I get up from the floor. “I’ll go to this stupid party with you, but on one condition. If I’m not having a good time, then we leave. No questions asked. I’m not going to stay alone in some corner somewhere while you suck face with some rando. Deal?”

“Deal.” She grins widely, outstretching her hand so we can shake on it. I give her hand a little jiggle, unable to be mad at her for forcibly pushing me out of my comfort zone. “Now what should you wear?” She masticates her lip before jumping off the bed to rush toward my closet.

“What’s wrong with what I’ve got on now?” I look down at my clothes, wondering why I can’t go with what I’m wearing now.

“You are not going to the last party of the summer in raggedy old shorts and a hoodie that has seen better days,” she scoffs, scrolling through the hangers in my closet.

“Why not?”

“First of all, it’s August and hot as hell outside, and secondly, if you wear something cute, you’ll feel more confident in actually partaking in conversation with someone. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”

“Whatever,” I mumble, but when Daisy picks out a skirt that’s short enough for everyone to see my underwear when I bend down, I quickly nix that idea.

“Nope. I’m not wearing that. Nuh-uh.” I shake my head, arms crossed on my chest to show I mean business.

“Why not? I love this skirt,” she sulks.

“Then you wear it. It’s yours, anyway. Mom must have put it in my closet by mistake.”

“Fine, then I will,” she says unbothered, flinging it on the bed before she continues to rummage through my clothes to find me something to wear.

“Oh, this is perfect!” she shrieks excitedly, taking out a hanger with a cute little white dress hanging from it.

“Daisy, I haven’t worn that dress in years. I doubt it even fits me anymore.”

“Try it on and see,” she retorts with a twinkle in her blue eyes.

Since I know my sister won’t let up until I try it on, I snatch the dress out of her hands and put it on. Once I’ve slithered into it, to my astonishment I realize that the simple summer dress does in fact fit me like a glove, even if a little tight on my chest area. Wanting to make sure that my boobs won’t spill out from the top of the damn thing, I walk over to the full-length mirror in my room for a full inspection.

Hmm.

It is pretty, even if it is a little short.

Still, it’s better than Daisy’s miniskirt. I won’t run the risk of flashing anyone in this dress and my cleavage actually looks really good in it. Almost as if the twins are ready for this party too.

I pat the dress down my midriff as I continue to stare at my reflection.

I know the girl staring back is me, but she doesn’t look like me at all.

The girl in the mirror looks like she’s been seen all her life and knows exactly who she is.

She looks like someone who actually has her shit together.

And Lord knows, I don’t.

The reflection is a beautiful lie of someone that doesn’t exist.

And might never exist.

“Perfect!” Daisy claps enthusiastically, unaware of the somber thoughts strolling in my head. “All you need now is just a little touch-up. I’ll go grab my stuff to do your hair and makeup.”

“No makeup!” I yell nervously.

“Yes, makeup!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Daisy!”

‘Skylar!”

Suddenly, we find ourselves in a standoff, neither one of us wanting to budge, but as usual, after a long, insufferable pause, I’m the first to concede.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Part of my charm.” She grins.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Fine, but only very light makeup. Don’t make me look like a clown.”

“Like I’d ever do that.” She scoffs, insulted, as she rushes out the door before I have time to change my mind.

I sit anxiously in front of the vanity, waiting for my sister to return with her hellish makeup kit. As the seconds pass by, my knee bounces nervously as I try to think of any excuse I can come up with that can get me out of this mess. Unfortunately, when Daisy walks back into my room, her proud smile is so widely stretched on her face, I don’t have the heart to steal it away from her.

True to her word, Daisy uses a very light blush to color my cheeks and a pretty shade of pink lip gloss on my lips. She does go a little overboard on the eyes, though, but I actually don’t mind the smokey eyeshadow since it makes my silver eyes pop.

Like she forewarned, Daisy ends up using the tiny-ass miniskirt paired with a crop top that shows off her flat stomach. Like my mother, my sister’s long blonde hair is sleekly brushed back to perfection, making her look graceful even in skimpy clothes.

When I venture another look in the mirror, it pains me that I don’t see any resemblance to either my sister or mother.

All I see is my dad—my deadbeat father.

I have his light gray eyes.

His wild dark brown hair.

Even the cheekbones Daisy raved about when she was adding color to them are his.

But that’s where our similarities end.

His loud personality to live life by the edge of his seat was solely inherited by Daisy.

I’m more like Mom.

Reserved.

Private.

But while I always felt that my mom was sometimes too quiet for her own good, my self-imposed silence was due to not wanting people to know just how fucked up I truly am. How restless and angry I am all the time. I should chuck that irksome quality in the short list of things my sperm donor of a father gave me.

It’s one of life’s great mysteries on how my mom and dad ever got married and stayed together long enough for them to have me and Daisy. Maybe my dad thought he could change his rolling stone ways if he settled down with a good girl like my mom.

But people don’t change.

They are what they are, and no outside forces will ever change that.

And in my father’s case, he would rather sweet-talk a stranger half his age into his bed than remember to call his daughters on their birthday.

Yeah.

Mom picked a real loser with dear old Dad.

Luckily, I think she finally found a winner with Curt. He treats her like a queen. Always making sure she’s happy and feels loved. Doing small things like giving her a foot massage on the couch after a long day’s work, or surprising her with flowers and planning romantic date nights for her. His kind heart and affection doesn’t end there. It has trickled over to me and my sister too. He always has a kind word for me and Daisy, and tries his best to be present in our lives. He’s like Mom in that way, easy-tempered and level-headed. I have yet to hear him lose his shit with anyone.

And when I say anyone, I mean Noah.

Noah is always pushing his buttons.

Always trying to get a rise from him.

And although I have witnessed Curt being cross with his son, I have never seen him being mean just for the sake of it. All I see is sadness in his eyes when Noah rebels against him. What happened between them before we three came into the picture left some deep, ugly scars, and neither one is willing to let them go anytime soon.

“You look hot!” Daisy squeals after she finishes curling my hair into large, long waves.

“You look pretty, too,” I state with a meek smile, hating that my thoughts always end up on my in-house bully.

“Fuck pretty. Tell me I look like something you want to eat and devour.” She bats her eyelashes seductively at me.

“Ew. God, you’re gross,” I reply with a giggle. “How about you take it down a notch tonight?”

“No can do, lil’ sis. Life is too short for us to be anything but our authentic selves. I might be an acquired taste, but I’d rather be me than anyone else,” she says lightheartedly.

But her light features turn serious as she places her chin on my shoulder, hugging my stomach from behind and staring at our combined reflection in the mirror, her gaze locking with mine.

“If you only learn one thing from your big sister, then let it be that. Treasure your uniqueness, Sky. You are one of a kind. There is no one in this world quite like you. And there never will be,” she adds the last part with such affection and certainty, that she almost has me believing it.

Again, I can’t help but envy my sister. She is her true self twenty-four seven, while I’m still grasping at straws trying to figure out who I am.

It’s easier for Daisy.

She is a glorious force of nature while I’m a mild bitter wind.

“Okay, let’s go,” she urges, giving me a nudge to get out of my seat. “The night awaits.”

“Great,” I grumble under my breath, already dreading going to this party.

Of course, it’s only when we arrive on the other side of the island twenty minutes later where this so-called last summer bash is being held, that my true panic sets in.

‘Daisy, whose house is this?’ I ask as we drive through an iron gate with the letter M on it.

‘Hmm, I forget,” she replies aloofly.

“You’re lying! I can tell,” I shout.

“Fine,” she says exasperated. “It’s the Monroes.”

Shit on a stick.

‘The Monroes’? As in Stacy Monroe’s house? Noah’s girlfriend? Jesus H. Christ, Daisy! Why didn’t you tell me this was Stacy’s party?!”

“Why would it matter?”

“Hello? Because last time I was at a party with her, she made sure to embarrass me in front of the whole school!”

“That’s last year’s news. No one remembers that shit anymore.”

I remember, I think to myself.

“It’s just a party, Sky. Besides, there will be so many people here, I’m sure you won’t even run into her anyway. Chillax, will ya?”

It’s not her I don’t want to run into.

It’s Noah.

But I keep that comment to myself too.

I’ve done my best to not put myself in my stepbrother’s path all summer. It hadn’t been as hard as I thought it would be either, since he worked with his father for most of it. Like most fishermen in Thatcher’s Bay, they would leave the house in the early hours of the morning before anyone else was up and only returned home late mid-afternoon. Like clockwork, the minute Noah came home, he would grab a shower and be out the door again to go God knows where until all hours of the night. The only days that I had to be extra cautious to stick to my room were on the weekends, and even then, he would spend most of his time in the garage fiddling with his bike.

I know when school starts back up again next week, this peaceful reprieve between us is going to end. I just thought I’d still have one last weekend where I could pretend he didn’t exist. But now that Daisy has forced me to walk into this lion’s den, aka his girlfriend’s party, all those hopes are tossed out the window.

Completely oblivious to my troubles, Daisy parks our car among a slew of others and jumps out of it, eager to get her party on. I stew in my seat, wondering if she would even notice if I ran home right now.

As if reading my thoughts, Daisy presses her palms flat on the hood of the car and stares at me.

“Don’t even think about it, squirt. Get your ass out of the car. Now, before I drag you out.”

I throw her my meanest glower, but it doesn’t affect her resolve in the slightest. Instead, she just hikes up her brow, crosses her arms over her chest, and taps her foot on the concrete.

“Don’t make me haul your ass out myself.”

Shit.

She’s not bluffing.

Unlike me, Daisy isn’t embarrassed lightly and is all too happy to make a scene if it means getting her way.

Fuming, I get out of the car, making sure to slam the door as I go about it.

“You have one hour. That’s it,” I warn, pointing a menacing finger at her as I bridge the gap between us.

“Three hours,” she negotiates with a mischievous grin on her face.

“Two. Or I’ll walk home right now.”

“In those heels?” She giggles, pointing to the five-inch heels she insisted I wear tonight. “Good luck with that. Three hours won’t kill you. And besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen? You having fun? Oh no! The horror!” she teases, linking her arm through mine.

“I really hate you right now,” I seethe through gritted teeth.

“No, you don’t.” She continues to cackle.

Rocks sling to the pit of my stomach as we walk into the large mansion filled to the brim with Bayshore High kids. In true Daisy fashion, all eyes are on her the minute she steps one foot through the door. I try not to notice how everyone greets her with open smiles, only to frown and gawk at me walking at her side. I read the question in their perplexed glances well enough, though—what the hell is she doing here?

I don’t know, dude. I’m at a loss, too.

I feel you. I don’t want to be here either.

Would you believe me if I said I was tricked?

‘Let’s grab a drink,” Daisy utters, unaware of the silent conversations I’m having with the other partygoers that can’t stop staring at us.

“You’re driving,” I protest on a huff, hating that I ever let her convince me to come to this thing.

“Hmm. You’re right. Then I guess you’ll just have to do my drinking for me,” she jokes, nudging my shoulder with hers.

“Sure. I’ll get right on that,” I retort sarcastically.

The only thing I’ll be drinking tonight is water. I’ll nurse a red Solo cup and pretend it’s vodka for the rest of the night if I have to. No way am I drinking and risk making a fool of myself with all these vultures about.

“Oh, let’s go outside! I think that’s where the real fun is happening.”

“Whatever you say,” I grumble, already looking at my watch and counting down the minutes until we can leave.

We walk out to the Monroes’ backyard, and instantly, I realize that this shit show just got a whole lot worse.

“POOL PARTY!” Daisy screams at the top of her lungs like she’s never seen water before.

Everyone is having a ball, dancing to loud hip-hop music on the green while a bunch of kids are in the pool playing their own version of Marco Polo. To anyone else, this would in fact look like an unmissable party. To me, however, this is my worst nightmare come true. Parties aren’t my thing, but add a pool to the equation and my anxiety spikes up to new dimensions.

It’s only when Daisy starts stripping off her clothes that it dawns on me what she’s about to do.

“What are you doing?” I stammer anxiously.

“What does it look like? I’m going for a swim. Duh.”

“But you didn’t bring your bikini?”

“So?” She wiggles her brows while taking off her top and shimmying out of her skirt. “Remember what I told you about only living once? This is it. Seize the day, sis. Carpe fucking diem! No fear!”

And with those words still hanging in the air between us, she runs to the pool in her underwear and cannonballs her way in. Everyone cheers her along when she rises to the surface, looking like a mermaid right out of an R-rated teenage movie.

Unable to keep still, I grab her clothes before someone swipes them away, biting my lower lip as I watch her laugh and have the time of her life.

‘Come on in, Sky! The water is amazing!’ she calls out animatedly, yet I stay rooted to my spot. “No fear,” she mouths so that I’m the only one to hear her secret message.

Right.

No fear.

Like that shit is easy.

It is hot, though.

Although the sun has already set, the night’s heat is still unbearable. I shift from one foot to another, my gaze falling on the kids inside the pool who are having a blast with my sister in their midst. If I didn’t have a deathly fear of water, I might have said fuck it and just took a page out of Daisy’s handbook. Unfortunately, I can’t swim to save my life, and I doubt anyone here would save me from drowning if I so much as tried to follow my sister’s command.

Still…

The water does look tempting.

No fear.

Screw it.

When in Rome, I guess.

Ever so carefully, I lower myself to the edge of the pool and sit down, raising my dress just enough to get my legs wet. I close my eyes and hum in delight.

This isn’t so bad.

Not bad at all.

I can do this.

I am doing this.

When I open my lids back up, I see that Daisy is on the other side of the pool, being pulled up by her arms by none other than Stacy’s older brother, Derrick. When she’s fully out of the pool, he wraps her up in a beach towel, and then presses his hand on her lower back, urging her into the house.

The conspiring looks they give each other tell me and everyone else in the near vicinity that Stacy’s big brother is Daisy’s pick of the night. I chuckle under my breath and promise myself I won’t hurt her game by ending her fun for at least a few hours. Three hours is plenty of time for Daisy to do whatever she does at these things. And it’s also enough time to appease her sisterly duty of trying to get me to have the full teenage experience of going to my first high school party.

Three hours.

I can survive three hours.

But just as I think this, I feel two delicate hands grip my shoulders, nails sinking into my skin.

I turn my head over my shoulder and come face to face with the hostess of this godforsaken party.

“I don’t remember inviting your skanky ass to my party. But now that you’re here…” Stacy smiles menacingly at me, and before I can prevent it, she pushes me into the pool.

As my whole body becomes submerged underwater, and my chest burns for breath, the last thought that runs through my head is how anticlimactic it is that this is how I die—at a fucking high school party.

Fuck my life.