Page 19 of He Hate Me

“Wow! That sucks.”

“I figured you would understand. Your dad⁠—”

“My dad is dead, Brandon,” I reply. “At least your dad is still alive.”

I see his shock, like he didn’t know about my dad. His mouth opens and then closes.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry. When did he…?”

He’s looking at me like he’s never seen me before, watching my face in a way that makes me uncomfortable.

“When I was in fourth grade.”

“I didn’t know,” he says again, even more awkwardly, this time. He rubs the back of his neck with his left hand, now looking anywhere but at me. An awkward silence stretches between us until I can even hear the wall clock ticking in the family room.

“So, like I said, pictures, mementos.”

“In the basement.”

“I’ve checked the basement.”

“The unfinished part of the basement. They keep the door locked. There’s a bunch of boxes. I know my mom stashed some of our papers and pictures down there, so that would be a place to check.”

“Where’s the key?”

“It’s in the junk drawer.” I go to the kitchen, retrieve the key, and drop it into his palm.

We spend the next hour in the basement, separating the boxes into different piles. Based on how dusty the area is, I’m guessing no one ever comes down here. I don’t know why Brandon doesn’t want our parents to know he’s looking for something, but suspicious as I am, I have to go along with him. There are a lot of boxes, but we make significant progress before he calls a halt. I kind of regret showering, because I’m now covered with dirt all over again. We both shower and change and are back downstairs watching a movie from opposite sides of the sectional when my mom and Devin get home. They barely spare us a glance as they grab bottled water and make their giggly way up to bed. I follow them up within minutes. I can’t stand to spend even five more minutes with Brandon.

Brayden is a football player, and his party is pretty chill, just a few people hanging out, including most of the football team and all the cheerleaders. So, not that small, honestly, but still relatively chill. I’m sitting with Gio and Shelby, when Carmello and CP, whose name I now know is Devonte, and Brandon walk in. Carmello’s looking fly as fuck, fresh fade, dripping outfit, a tattoo I haven’t seen before peeking out the cuff of his shirt when he takes his jacket off. He smiles at me. Over his shoulder Brandon’s expression is cold. For a moment I forget where I am till Gio says,

“Who’s that?”

I startle and immediately feel ashamed.

“That’s Brandon and a couple of guys from the soccer team,” I explain. “I’m going to say hi.”

I don’t wait for him to respond before I go over and greet them. I give each of them a quick hug. I feel pretty bad because I completely forgot I invited Mello and have been flirting with Gio all night, mostly to distract myself from all the Brandon drama. And then there’s Brandon himself. Why didn’t I consider that his friend might bring him along? Trying to play it cool, I lock my arms through Mello and Devonte’s and take them over to meet the host. I swear I can feel a charge on the back of my neck from Brandon trailing behind us.

“Hey Brayden,” I explain, “this is Mello and Devonte⁠—”

“Von,” Devonte corrects me.

“Von. And Brandon. They play soccer.”

“Wow, that’s cool,” Brayden says. “You guys must be really good. Do you know Carter?”

“Sophomore? Yeah, he’s fast.”

“He’s my brother. I don’t think he’s here, though. Probably somewhere in the woods with his dopey friends.”

“You’re fast, too,” Von says. “I was at the game last night.”

“Fast doesn’t mean much if your quarterback can’t throw for shit.” Said quarterback is playing beer pong only a few yards away. “I wanted to play soccer, but I just wasn’t good enough.”

“I get it,” Mello said, “I gotta tell you, it wasn’t easy getting on that team.” They start talking about local youth clubs and competitions and I’m rapidly losing interest.

“You guys want a beer?” I ask them. “I’ll go grab you a couple.”