The Boy I Hate

Eleven.

My utter lack of knowledge regarding the nights events was proving to be a problem. First, I stood mindlessly in my closet with no knowledge of the proper attire - I hoped jeans and a black T would do. Then, I paced my room tirelessly for a half hour waiting for Charlie to do whatever he was going to do to get me out of the house. Perhaps if he hadn't walked away mid-conversation I would have a minuscule idea of what to expect.

After a chat with the boys we decided wearing the earpiece and mic again would be too risky. I didn't exactly tell them Bobby knew; they wouldn't understand, but I made it clear that it was not easily hidden. Without that form of contact I was alone tonight. They weren't even going to intercept the prank because I needed to gain trust.

As I circled my room for what felt like the thousandth time a pebble hit my window. Then another, and another, until I was sure it was him and not just a coincidence. I slid the curtain sideways, and unlatched the lock. When I opened the window and poked my head out I was delighted to see Bobby with Charles. Lord knows I couldn't have spent a night alone with him.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!" Bobby joked, to which I saw Charlie shove his chest. "You're no fun," he quipped and walked back towards the car I recognized as his mother's. He opened the back door and pulled out a long object. When he came below my window again he leaned the ladder against the wall, and extended it.

Obviously I was meant to climb down, but the concept didn't seem appealing. Even with the ladder fully extended it was a couple feet below the window. "Are we sure this is a good idea?"

"Nope," Charlie popped the p, "quite unsure actually."

"Lovely," I steadily climbed onto my window frame. Sitting on the edge with my legs dangling out, I wasn't sure what to do next.

I tried to remember how easy it was for me to climb around playgrounds as a child; was this really any different? Brisk air flew my hair out of my face as I gripped the window frame and hoped not to fall. I prayed silently that Bobby held the bottom of the ladder tightly enough. Soon, I was only holding on by my hands, and my legs dangled aimlessly. I swung them around looking for the highest rung. When my feet connected with the medal a sigh of relief left me.

I still had to step down a couple rungs to finally feel safe, but when I was close enough to the ground the tension left my body. When I got to the first four steps I even jumped off, feeling pleased with myself. "So what next boys?" I rubbed my hands together.

"The school," Charlie answered. The three of us trotted towards the car where I ended up in the back seat with the ladder draped across me. We drove in silence for a while, but Charlie broke it. "Why'd you switch rooms? I almost threw rocks at your old window, but then I saw your dad through it."

The thought hadn't occurred to me that the last time Charlie was at my house my bedroom was downstairs. My childhood room was adapted to my father's office sometime in middle school. This raised a new question, "how did you find me then?"

"Yellow curtains," Charlie mumbled briefly.

In the few recent days I had been forced to communicate with Charles Turner it was becoming clear just how strange out relationship was. We were strangers to each other, yet we knew everything about each other. Half his life story was shared with mine, but everything past the age of nine was separated. We were unfinished stories to one another. So much of him was familiar, but so much of him was blank. He didn't know where my room was, but he did distinctly remember my yellow curtains.

"I'll tell you why I switched rooms if you tell me why you switched residences."

"Touché," he smirked, and the conversation was dropped. We were silent the rest of the way to East Port Academy.