54. People who think it’s okay to insult you as long as they say “just kidding” afterward
55. Angerson
56. The Commons
57. HOMEWORK
It was so gradual and so complete, it was almost unnoticeable, the transformation in Valerie. She and Nick became such an interchangeable couple, they began to physically resemble each other. They even shared clothes sometimes—Nick would take off his shirt in the parking lot after school, and Val would ball it up in the bottom of her backpack. Then the next day she’d show up to school wearing it, tucking her nose down into the collar, smelling his scent.
They talked about the same things, too, and they seemed to get increasingly darker, angrier.
“I hate that bitch,” Val said one day in the Commons. She used her fork, which had a French fry speared on the end, to motion toward a sophomore. “Here, have one,” she said, scooting her tray toward me.
“Who is she?” I asked, munching gratefully.
“No idea,” Val answered. “Just some SBRB. That’s all I need to know.”
“What’s an SBRB?”
“Something Nick and I came up with to describe bitches like her. It means Skinny Barbie Rich Bitches.”
Not five minutes later, Nick showed up, swigging an energy drink and carrying a pink tardy slip. He motioned over his shoulder at the same girl.
“I hate that bitch,” he said as he sat down. “SBRB.”
Same person. They had become the same person.
There were other changes, too, especially as we got closer to the end of the year. Val became quieter, more withdrawn, like she was forever in mourning. She seemed so unhappy, so angry, and I didn’t understand why she wanted to be with him if he did that to her. I could have made her happy.
Junior year was winding down, all of us getting antsy for school to be out and make us officially seniors.
One day, as spring was just starting to warm up the air, I went to Nick’s house after school and was surprised to find my brother there, along with his friend Jeremy Watson. Jeremy was the one who Sara called the Dedicated Life Loser and who my mom didn’t want hanging around the house because, she swore, things went missing every time he so much as stepped in the yard.
They were pulling out of Nick’s driveway when I walked up, Brandon flipping me off through the passenger-side window. Nick stood on the front porch.
“I didn’t know you hung out with my brother.”
“I don’t,” Nick said, leading the way into his house. “He came with Jeremy.”
Nick had a sweet, smoky smell to him—a smell I recognized from Brandon’s bedroom. I’d never smoked weed, but I wasn’t an idiot. Weed was what Jeremy specialized in.
“Where you been? Val said you’ve been skipping a lot.” I followed him down the now-familiar stairs to his bedroom.
“School’s a joke,” he answered. “A joke full of jokes.” He laughed and sat down on a padlocked trunk, stretching his feet out in front of him and leaning his head back against the concrete wall. “A joke full of jokes, and not one of ’em be laughing for long.”
I squinted at him, trying to decipher what he was talking about, but decided he was too messed up to make sense. “Val’s worried,” I said.
He waved his hand. “She’ll live. I know that for sure.” He grabbed a battered guitar and started plucking the strings.
I leaned over and picked up the hate list, which was lying on the floor next to the bed.
When I was at his house, it wasn’t unusual for me to check the list, if he had it. It was funny. And somehow it made me feel closer to Val, like I was in on a secret with her.
But this time when I flipped through the pages, I noticed something different. Several of the entries had been scratched through with red ink.
All people Nick and Val hated, marked out, one by one.
It was as if the hate list had become more of a… checklist. I caught Nick staring at me, his eyes dark and hard, shining, one side of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, as if daring me to ask about the scratched-out names. Chilled, I shut the book and occupied myself with a video game instead.
If I hadn’t known Nick, I’d have started to wonder if something was up. If he was planning something.
But even if he was up to something and keeping it from me, Valerie would have known. And she would have told me.
She would have stopped it.
Or maybe that was just what I was telling myself.