Page 50 of Payback
“I’ll let you know when we’re done,” I cut him off.
He was always so quiet, merely nodding and resuming his task of cleaning the teacher’s desk. I scowled at him, craving a bigger confrontation, but he appeared unwilling to engage today. It frustrated me even more.
“You know you should thank me,” I stated, though he carried on silently with his cleaning. “Nobody wants to spend their time with you, and yet here we are.”
His silence persisted, further rubbing me the wrong way.
“I dedicate my free time to you,” I emphasized. “You should show some gratitude.”
He cast a brief glance my way but offered little else. Organizing some papers, he proceeded to clean the chalkboard.
“Doggy!” I shouted at him, causing him to freeze. “Come here!”
Exhaling audibly, he set down the cloth. Slowly turning toward me, he focused on the spot where he had been seated earlier. He understood my expectations. Jared approached, kneeling in front of me. His utter submission today took me by surprise. Normally, he’d put up at least a small resistance, yet something seemed to have shattered his spirit. I found it curious, considering I hadn’t subjected him to anything particularly harsh in weeks. What had transpired to render him this way? A dark anger brewed within me, not directed at Jared. It stemmed from the knowledge that someone else had achieved what I’d been striving for. Another person had touched my “doggy”, and that provoked my fury. However, with no one else but Jared to bear the brunt of my anger, it inevitably targeted him.
“Thank me!” I demanded.
He sighed, diverting his gaze slightly.
“What am I thanking you for?”
“For investing my time in a sorry loser like yourself!” I snarled.
Slowly, he met my eyes, emanating an air of complete exhaustion. It didn’t particularly delight me. He was supposed to resist. He owed me his defiance. This wasn’t as enjoyable as it usually was.
“Thank you for dedicating your time to a loser like myself,” he responded, his tone dry and nearly mechanical.
“Add some emotion!”
He repeated the words with greater emotion this time. Yet the satisfaction I craved remained elusive, and that was more frustrating than words could convey.
“Urgh, just clean this room and then go home. I can’t stand the sight of you,” I growled, snatching my belongings and hastily exiting the room. Walking down the quiet hallway toward the school’s exit, an inexplicable urge tugged at me to turn back. Almost as if something beckoned me to return and inquire about his unusual demeanor. I forcefully dismissed the thought, assuring myself that I didn’t care. I shouldn’t care about a loser like Jared. Resolutely, I left the premises of the school.
Leaning against the sink, I listened to the running water. What had caused his profound distress that day? It was only on that specific occasion that I had witnessed such vulnerability in him. Usually, he’d exhibit a hint of defiance or attempt to defend himself against my criticisms, but on that day, he hadn’t even tried to retort. He had barely uttered a word, which wasn’t entirely uncommon, but that day his silence was nearly deafening. A sense of curiosity gripped me suddenly, though I shook my head to dispel it. Delving into the past wouldn’t alter the present. I was where I was, and he was where he was. Still, the question lingered.
I left the restroom, mentally admonishing myself to leave it be, and returned to the area where Jared sat, engrossed in his reading. He greeted me with a smile as he noticed my approach, and I swiftly resumed my cleaning task. The coffee table was promptly polished, after which I moved on to a lengthy row of bookshelves, meticulously dusting them.
“You always did like books,” I murmured.
“What was that?” he asked.
The words hadn’t been intended for his ears, yet now I had to repeat them, “I just said you always did like books.”
“Well, in the library, you couldn’t torment me in the same manner, given the prohibition against loud noises. Nevertheless, you still managed to exploit certain loopholes.”
I remembered. The ‘A’ on his chest became vivid in my mind, prompting me to glance down at the bandage on my thigh. I knew what lay beneath it, a permanent reminder. Would surviving this month truly matter? The memories were never going to disappear. It was a difficult realization to embrace, yet I wouldn’t crumble. I would endure. If a loser like Jared could weather my torment, then I could certainly weather his. I practically invented the word itself. He was even mimicking my actions, and that thought brought a smile to my lips.
“You’re not very original, are you?” I taunted.
His movements were audible, and I turned slightly to see his narrowed eyes and his glare fixed on me.
“Excuse me?” he retorted.
“Romeo and Juliette?” I pointed out, gesturing at the book he was engrossed in. “Classic, and many of these are too.”
“They’re called classics for a reason, and it’s not because they suck.”
“Just saying, a touch of originality wouldn’t hurt. Even your methods of torment are mirroring my own.”
