Page 19 of Hate Like Ours

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“Well then get your heads out of your asses!” he snaps. “Run it again!”

We all get into position to run the last play we just did. We’re not even five minutes into it when he’s yelling at us to stop again. Today is not a good day for practice. Everyone’s game is shit, apparently.

I have no idea what the hell is happening. One minute, we’re all standing there, being chewed out by Coach, and in the next minute, I see Axel throw a punch in Ezra’s direction. Ez stumbles back a second before he charges Ax and the two of them go crashing onto the ground in a mix of arms and legs. They’re throwing punches at each other and neither one of them is backing down.

“I fucking hate you! You just had to go and mess shit up, didn’t you?” Ax screams at Ez as he throws another punch to Ez’s stomach.

“I fucking said I was sorry, asshole! You don’t need to be a dick about it!” Ez snaps.

“Don’t fucking talk about dick next to me!” Ax growls out before tackling Ez again who lets out a grunt from the impact.

“It was a figure of speech, jerkoff!” Ez yells.

Before Ax can even say anything else, Coach runs over to them. That snaps Ash and I out of our statue state and we rush over to break them apart before they kill each other. We’ve never seen them fight and have never seen them throw punches at each other like this.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?” I snap at them when we finally manage to break them off, but neither of them answers. Axel just shrugs me off. Before anyone else can say anything, Coach is there yelling at us again.

“That’s it! Ten laps around the field before anyone leaves today!” he snaps and everyone groans out loud.

By the time I make it home that night, I’m tired as hell and all the muscles in my body ache. I’m surprised to find my dad in the kitchen when I get home. My nostrils flare at the sight of him and I wish I could punch him in the face for everything I found out and now know about him.

But I have to rein in all the anger because I know how I’m going to play this. Revenge is going to be bittersweet by the time I’m done. That’s the only reason I keep my cool.

“How was your day, son?” he asks casually, like there isn’t a huge elephant in the room.

“It was fine. Practice was grueling today,” I say, shrugging. He hasn’t once asked how I was doing regarding the death of my mother and I hate him a little more because of that. Maybe he just doesn’t care.

“Well that’s good. Keep up the good work,” he says.


“Well, I have some work to finish so I’ll be in my office,” he says.

“Sure thing,Dad.” I say the last word with a little bite to it but he doesn’t notice.

Deciding I’m not going to let this shit fuck with me, I walk up to my room and start to strip before getting into the shower to wash all this stink off of me. I was too tired after practice to shower in the locker room by the time Coach was done with us.

Once I’m done with my shower, I walk into my room and throw on a pair of boxers. I open my room window and then light the weed I got from the dealers in our school.

I walk over to my bed and lie there, smoking the joint and blowing out the air up toward my ceiling. My mind goes to all the ways I want to fuck with that girl and a smile crosses my face. I hope she’s prepared for the next year of her life.



I walk backinto my room after showering and pull on a pair of panties and a bra so I can get ready for school today. What do you know? It’s another day in hell and today is only going to be the third day since I started Riverside Academy.

I don’t want to go but I have to. Otherwise my mom would probably take me to get examined in the head or something since she knows how much I love school. I rarely ever stay home on a school day. That is how much I hate this school that I’m willing to mess up my perfect attendance.

I grab my shirt and then stop when I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror. I stand there and stare at myself for a while.

Well, I’m mostly looking at the pudgy stomach that’s sticking out, the one most of the senior class can’t seem to stop talking about, unfortunately. In just two days, the amount of fat jokes I’ve heard is ridiculous. If I had a dollar for every mention, I’d probably have like a thousand or so. As if that wasn’t enough, the cow nickname could get me some too with the numerous times it’s been said in my presence.

My eyes trail down to the scar that’s on the entirety of my stomach, right down the middle that no one but me gets to see every day. The one I hate to look at whenever I take my clothes off and have to see it.

It’s a daily reminder of how imperfect I am, but also a daily reminder of how much I’ve had to overcome. If I overcame a near-death experience, then I can certainly not pay attention to any of the assholes in school.

As much as I hate this scar, I’ve sort of made peace with it over the years and have sort of learned to live with it. Don’t get me wrong, some days affect me more than others. It starts a few inches right under my breasts and ends all the way down to my pelvis.Yeah, it’s not small, so that’s why I hate it.

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