I Hate You

{Craig is talking to himself} [Craig is texting someone]

Chapter 1 Ready to Start

Here I am, sitting again, looking at these damn composition notebooks. There are so many ideas in my notebooks, uncompleted. All the Tame Impala in the world can't get me in the creative headspace to finish these stories. I just recently graduated college at Key University with a BA in Media Communications. It all seems surreal right now, sitting in my room in this apartment I share with my older sister Keisha Turner. I have no job currently, so I'm essentially freeloading. I do got a job interview in a couple of hrs., but if I'm being frank, I'm not feeling too good about it.

Maybe I'm just not that marketable. But I know one thing that I am right now. Hungry. I hear Keisha in the kitchen, probably getting ready for work.

"Oh, great, she's here, Megan Winston, the bane of my existence and my first crush." She also happens to be my sister's best friend.

Megan grew up in California; she and her dad would always watch Lakers and Sparks games on tv and sometimes in person. These little moments with her dad made her love for basketball grow, and she started playing basketball almost daily. Then her dad got a job in Key City, Georgia. She would have to move from the sunny beaches of California to the other side of America in the suburbs.

She was waiting at the bus stop when my big head sister started talking to her.

"You new?" Keisha says to girl.

"Yeah, I just moved here from California."

"Really! Like Hollywood, California."

"Close enough, Los Angeles."

"Oh, I just thought you were a fan of winners wearing that jersey. My name is Keisha, by the way."

"Hi, and it's because Kobe is just the best."

"He is pretty good."

From this little interaction, she and my sister became fast friends. One day they were playing basketball when her ball popped. So, my sister decided she could have our ball. I mean, we don't use it. So, she was awkwardly waiting for my sister in my living room as Keisha tore up the garage looking for a basketball.

"Uhhh...Hello. Can I... My mom says coming out from the back hallway.

"Hi, ma'am. I'm here with Keisha."

"Oh, okay...KEISHA!!!

"Yeah, mom!"

"Who is this white girl in my living room!"

"Megan! She just moved in three houses down from California!"

"Okay! Megan from California, nice to meet ya, baby."

"N..Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Turner."

"Mhmm," Mom says, walking outside to the garage.

"What's going on in...I paused because I saw an angel. I never knew I could be attracted to a white girl. But, at that moment, I knew.

"Hi you must be Craig."

"I"

"Ughhh, I can't find it. Hey Craig, have you seen the basketball."

"I"

"I... what. Keisha snaps her fingers. What's going on?"

"Is he okay"

"Can you not freak out, my friend, Craig"

"It's in my room."

"Go get it then."

"Yeah, okay..."

I was in a trance as I grabbed the ball from my room. I handed it to my sister, then she spoke to me.

"Hey, you wanna shoot around with us?" I just nodded in agreement; I took that invite and came out with them daily to shoot around. My sister doesn't even like basketball, but with Megan's help, she developed a wicked jump shot. I, of course, followed suit, but I am just generally unathletic. Megan was so friendly to me even when I had a bad day at school, and I could always rely on her to make my day better. It was the first time I ever felt that way about any girl. Then something changed.

It was Valentine's Day; I got her favorite candy, some Twizzlers sweet and sour. A card was attached to it with a letter that I wrote about how I felt about her. It was probably the best piece of writing I have ever written because it came from my heart. She was at the local basketball court down the street from our houses. They turned when they saw me, and she smiled at me. My sister grimaced, of course.

"Hey, Megan...Keis."

"Sup, bro"

"Hey, Craig. What ya got there?"

"I got you a Valentine's Day gift and card.

"Oh my god, I've never gotten one of these before."

"Oh, well, I'm happy to be your first."

"You dweeb, where is my valentine's day card?"

"I will get you later."

"Of course, you will."

"Come here, Craig." She pulled me into a nice, sweaty hug. God, I didn't wash that shirt for a week. Yeah, I know I'm a freak, but I was in love. Something changed after that day, and I went home on cloud nine. I woke up the next day, excited to see if she had read my letter. I met them again after school at the basketball court.

"Hey Megan"

"Oh great, it's Craig."

"What's up, Craig"

"I ah, I wondered if you read my letter?"

"No, I haven't read your letter."

"Oh...Okay, uh, are you gonna read it anytime like soon."

"Craig, it's in the trash." My heart dropped into my chest. I'd never felt anything like the emotion I felt at that moment before I could process what just happened as I stared at her face. The expression on her face was cold and flaccid. Keisha let out a big laugh.

"HAAAAA!!" Oh my god, you should see your face. You look like the one time you didn't get a Nintendo DS for Christmas. Oh, man." Keisha says, laughing, holding her stomach.

"Anything else you wanna know, Craig," Megan says, lifting her left eyebrow at me.

"No. I said.

"Megan doesn't want to play with you anymore, so bye. Keisha says while continuing to laugh some more." I turned around and walked back home with my tail between my legs. I didn't eat that night; I just lay in my bed staring at the ceiling. I wanted to cry. Okay, I did cry. Why did I make it weird for her? Why was being a creepy little brother?

That moment changed everything; Megan started to be downright mean to me. But, despite that, I still supported her and attended every one of her basketball games. She was amazing, always the catalyst for her team, and was simply all-around better than the competition. She was driven on the court as a girl possessed with winning at all costs, quickly becoming the best basketball player in the state, boy or girl.

Then her parents divorced; her mother cheated on her father. She was distraught then but still soldered on to double down her efforts in basketball. She was becoming a highly sought-after college recruit. She evenly went with the University of Georgia.

There she only improved, becoming a top college player. Her school was always close to winning it all but fell short during her freshman and sophomore years. Then her junior came, and she had her best season ever. She was going to be the consensus number-one pick in the WNBA draft. Then it happened. She broke her leg and damaged her knee after going up for a rebound and colliding with two opposing players. Her team was expected to win it all that year. But they quickly fell in the next round.

Her career was effectively over, but she still fought for that small glimmer of hope of playing again. Unfortunately, she was not in the best of moods when I visited her in the recovery hospital wing. She got really nasty with me, and that was the day my supposed crush for her died. She tried to make up with me and apologize, but at that point, after years of dealing with her. I just wasn't feeling being her punching bag anymore.

I moved away in went to college in Atlanta for four years. She moved into an apartment with my sister and started working at a retail store. Her dream is officially over, and her life is somewhat in shambles. But hey, she still had her looks right. On the other hand, I graduated from college and returned home to Key City. Why? Because I'm broke and couldn't find a job in the city. Crazy right? Now I'm moving into the same apartment she and my sister live. The caveat, she is moved out to live with her boyfriend.

It turns out her born-again Christian mom (that's another story) found her a lovely Christian boyfriend. First time I'd ever seen her with a guy; for a second, I thought whatever. She is happy and good; I mean, I never see her smile in her pictures. What pictures? I'm not looking at her social media, and it's my sister's social media page. She happens to appear on them. Their best friends remember?

It's whatever. I don't like this chick anymore. I've had girlfriends and got laid in college. I'm not still hung up on some skinny-ass white girl who couldn't hang in college basketball. With her weak ass knees. Okay. That was mean, and I don't mean that; I just..FUCK!! Why? What the hell is so good, great, and amazing about Megan Wilson? And why is she in our kitchen in her underwear with no bra on, making fuck me eyes at me? Am I tripping or....

"Take a picture, Craig, so that you can use it as spank material later." Megan snarked sarcastically at me.

"Ewe! Come on, I'm right here." Keisha says, rolling her eyes at her remarks.

"Why are you here? Again"

"To get something, I left it in my old room. You know the one you're squatting in took you long enough to wake up to." Megan gets up and walks casually toward me. She looked down at me like I was still that small kid following her and Keisha.

"I know this may disappoint you." She presses her long index finger into my chest.

"Next time you come out of your spank dungeon, make sure you put on a shirt. Nobody wants to see your disgusting chest." Her finger traces down the center of my pec. {She's teasing me; I've never seen her do this before to me. Why?}

"Move out of the way. I need to get in there. You got something to hide in here?"

"No, I don't have anything to hide. What are you looking for anyway? I moved some of your boxes like you left a whole house inside the closet. {Come on, don't look at her ass. That's what she wants you to do. Don't let her win.}

"Oomph. Why did you stop?" {Damn! I bumped into her ass, and it was... fuck don't get hard.}

"Why are following so close? Stop being weird." She says, shaking her head.

"I ah."

"You're creeping me out." Megan says, getting into my personal space again. Her scent is intoxicating me. When did she start wearing perfume? Is this new side of her because of her boyfriend?

"Oh my god, you're turning into a mute. Man, this brings back memories." Megan smirks at me, and it's like she knows she has me in the palm of her hand.

"What's up with all these notebooks on your bed? Don't tell me you got diaries."

"If I did, what's the problem? Journaling is a good way to recontextualize your issues."

"Okay, cool, hey, I graduated college, kid."

"Don't call me kid; you are like, what? Five years older than me."

"You're a kid, Craig; it's okay one day, you're going to turn into a real man." She places one of her hands on the top of my head. It pissed me off. I wanted to...God, I wanna wipe that smug smile off her face.

"Just because your freakishly tall doesn't mean you can treat me like a midget."

"I mean"

"No. I'm six fucking feet. "

"Hmmm, mmm, you sure are, honey."

"Alright, can you finish and get what you came for already? "

"Don't rush me; knocking you down a peg makes my day." {Knocking me down a peg, as if I need help with that.} She turns around to go into the closet.

"Ahh, okay, now which box is it?" She bends over while searching in her boxes.

{I should smack her an ass.} "No! I'm not gonna do that, then end up on channel seven news for sexual assault."

"Do what?"

"Nothing; also, why are you looking into the boxes? Just grab them and take them with you. Then, you know, complete the move into your new apartment. Call; what's his name?"

"Don't worry about it, and why do that when this room is perfect for a storage unit."

"My room is not a storage unit."

"Your room, dude; you haven't even paid rent yet, or bought groceries. Did you even fill up your creepy van with gas? Heh, no, that's right; Keisha does all that. I'm sure you gonna be communicated some money here anytime now, right."

{I'm going to kill this bitch and hide the evidence. Why do? Did! I ever like this evil bitch?}

"Found it!!!" She screams after digging in the closet.

"Did you have a good look, Craig? She says, walking up to me and pressing her chest into my face. She wraps her arms around me and kisses the top of my head.

"For good luck, of course."

"What the fuck Meg!?"

"What the fucccckkk, Meg." She mocks me.

"You're suffocating me." {Oh my god, I'm so fucking conflicted right now, and I'm getting really fucking hard.}

"Oh, calm down bitch boy. Hey Keis! I found it. Megan releases me from her iron grip and grins at me. Be happy that was a present for being a good storage unit manager."

"Fuck you, dude!"

"Heh! You wish."

"You done here; I got a busy morning ahead of me. {Yeah, lie, make yourself sound really important.} She and I leave my room together, almost slamming into each other to get out the door. But instead, we squeeze out into the kitchen.

"You know I see past your bullshit. I know you have, like, what, your 20th interview or something this month." Megan grills me while sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter.

"5th, actually. Hey, Keis, we got milk? I'm gonna murder a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

"Yeah, we do, and Okay, I'm about to head out for work. Craig remembers what I said; if it doesn't work out, let me know. I can get you hired at everyday Earth."

"Because you are a boss bitch, Keisha."

"You know it, girl." Ughhh, they high-five each other; it makes me sick.

"Okay, Sis. Before you leave, take Paula Bunyan with you so she can tend to the rest of the giant forest before you leave. Two, I don't wanna be a freaking gopher again; I want something different."

"Ahhh yes, the broke I believe that's what all the kids your generation call it. Megan says.

"Ahhh yes, the broke I believe that's what all the kids your generation call it. Megan says.

"Oh, shit, you still here? That's crazy."

"Oh, shit, your still jobless that's insane."

"You have, like, the best comebacks, Meg." I mock her.

"Okay, you too, you're getting loud. I don't think Lance would appreciate you flirting with my little brother. "

"Flirting," We both said in unison. She stares at me, and I stare back.

"Yeah, come on, girl. Let's leave him in private with his Cereal."

"I hope you choke. Keisha grabs her coat and starts pushing Megan out towards the door."

I retort, "I'll give you something to choke on. {Yeah, that'll show her}

"I doubt it, bitch boy." {Maybe not} The door slams shut as they. Then it pops open one more time.

"Love you, Craig, and good luck today." My sister screams.

"Love you too, sis."

"They're both right; I need this damn job like yesterday."

I eat my Cereal and set off for this after mentioned job interview. As I walked into the building, I reviewed my game plan or lack thereof.

"Alright, Editorial Assistant at Keys News, am I qualified? No, but it doesn't hurt to try. Can't get experience if I never have any right." {Enough talking to myself before I get sent to a psych ward. Crazy, I always pass this place whenever I go for a run. That colossal ass key in front of the building is a trip. I don't know if it's overkilled or just crazy enough to work. Oh, snap, they got the revolving doors. I never noticed that. Now let me go to the secretary clerk.} "Hi, my name is

"Craig!?" {Damn, she looks familiar. Why does she know? What a minute.}

"Nyla?"

"You remembered me, good. I'm guessing you're the nine o'clock interview. You know, when I saw your name on the list. I was like, is this that Craig Turner? The one from college or, I mean, you know, I kind of figured Craig Turner is a pretty common name. But hey, low and behold, it's you. How-----

{This bitch! Nyla Darling. The girl who freaking ghosted me after our date. Don't get me wrong, maybe I came on too strong, or it was probably a shitty date. Or both. Damn, I can't fault her for that, my hurt pride, huh.}

"Uhhh... Craig, you, okay?"

"Yeah, my bad. I'm good, how are you, Nyla? It's been a while."

"Yeah, the last time we saw each other was... Nyla stares at him, remembering the last time they saw each other. Oh yeah.

"Yeah, it's all good."

"I got swamped there towards the end with all the finals. I ahh"

"You don't have to explain anything. How long have you been working here?"

"Oh, ever since I graduated, a family friend got me hired. It was me just getting my foot in the door as a journalist, but it looks like it will take a lot more to get noticed. I'm going to have to start dressing a little bit more." Her eyes peer over to other women dressed in a tight skimpy dress.

{Oh my god, it looks like it's drawn on her. I think I see her nipples.}

"You want her number? Maybe I can hook you too up. "

"Oh shit, I was just... sighs being a fucking pig.

"Oh, stop; I mean, she looks good in that; hell, I wish I could pull it off."

"Who said you can't? Heh. {Damn, that was not in my head.} "Uhhh, I mean you. If that's what you want to do, you know? Not that you have to do that. I mean, I think you look great with what you have going on now, like, damn girl, you're killing it. {Yup, keep digging that grave, Craig.}

"Still got that nervous energy about you, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm working on it."

"It's okay. I think it's cute, maybe even handsome. Try to be a little more confident in your interview, though. Let me walk you over to the office." I thanked her, and we began to walk over to the interview office.

"So, Key News? "

"Yeah, I'm from Key City, and I have been looking for a job for a month now. So, I figured, why not."

"This place is a snake pit; I'd be happy to tell you all about it over drinks. Maybe?"

"Tonight?" {That's unexpected, but isn't she like engaged or something? I'm trying to remember.}

"Yeah"

"Uh, Nyla, I'm like completely broke. So, I don't."

"That's no sweat. It will be my treat. I mean, last time you asked me out, and you paid for everything. Then I kind of left you high and dry. I know you're thinking about it."

{Fucking X-Men?} "You weren't interested. It's cool."

"That's not exactly what happened, and there was some stuff going on and my life. You just happen to be caught in the middle."

"Me, I didn't know I was in the middle?"

"Mr. Turner? Nyla, is this my Nine? So says an older man in a pinstripe suit looking like a cross between a mobster and John Jonah Jameson. I want to learn at his tree and pin every crime in America on that blasted Web Head.

"Yes, Sir. This strapping young man is Craig Turner."

"Good, he's on time. Plus, ten points." {The Fuck} "I can take it from here, Nyla. Mr. Turner, come inside my office and have a seat."

"Sure, thing Sir."

"Okay, I got your resume. A College graduate, the same school as Nyla. And oh"

An hour passed as I walked out of the office. It didn't go well there. Spoiler alert. So what does this mean for old Craig Mac?

{DESPAIR}

"Thank you for the opportunity, Sir. "

"No problem, young man. Keep your ears to the phone. You may get a phone call."

"Okay, right. Well, have a nice day."

"You too."

{Well fuck, it looks like I'm going back to the drawing board. Ughhhhhhh, I thought I was gonna get this one. Let me get the hell out of here.}

"Hey! Craig, wait."

"Huh"

"Didn't go well, huh," Nyla says as she follows me outside the building.

"Oh, Nah. Well, heh, it was nice seeing you, Nyla." I say as I open my car door.

"Wait, you never gave me a yes or no bout going out tonight."

"You know. I'd be happy to." {I need to get my mind off my freaking failure.}

"Yes! I meant good. I'll text you when I'm off, and we can go from there."

"Cool. Well, uh, see you tonight then, Nyla."

"Ciao. She says, blowing an air kiss at me. She seemed happy that I said yes. Note to self watch my drink tonight might end up losing a kidney. Do people still do that? Wait, of course they do. My phone buzzes. It's a text message from Kiesha. Ever since I moved back, she has been worried about me. Weirdly, I feel closer to her than I ever did before I left.