Hate Me

Aiden wraps his arm tightly around my waist, gives me a kiss, and says, “Enjoy your coffee. I have to run down to shop class.”



“What for?”



“To oversee the creation of Hawthorne house’s decoration.”



“Fun. What are you doing?”



“Don’t tell her,” Brad says to Aiden. “They’re the competition.”



“Us girls are decorating all our windows to honor Parisian shopping. Is Hawthorne doing that too?” I ask with a laugh.



“Ha. Ours is gonna blow yours away. It’s amazing what we’ll do to avoid wearing our uniforms for one day.”



Emergency fund.



Ceramics



I’m in ceramics, glazing, when I hear a Psst from the hall.



I turn around and see Maggie. Our teacher is in the back room, so I sneak out to talk to her.



“I just talked to the dean,” she says.



“How’d it go?”



“He didn’t have good news. All the scholarships for the year have been given out.”



“There isn’t any kind of emergency fund?”



“He said he would see what he could do, but not to get my hopes up.”



I give her a big hug. “It will all work out. He’ll find something.”



“I sure hope so.”



As I’m painting the overglaze on my bowl, I’m thinking. Trying to figure out how I can help Maggie. Aiden and I watched as her and Logan’s lives followed one of my scripts. They’re back together where they belong, and I know in my heart they are destined to be that way forever. I’m not going to allow fate to rip them apart.



So, I’m going to intervene.



The question is how?



It’d be easy to just offer to pay for it. Write her a check for next semester. Done.



But what if I’m not here next semester. Or next year?



And I don’t ever want her to feel like she owes me.



I finish glazing, look up the annual tuition on the school’s website, and then ask my teacher if I can go speak to the dean about some French weekend stuff.



She writes me out a pass, so I leave ceramics, run to my dorm to get my checkbook, and then head to the office.



I give the dean’s assistant the same excuse.



She leads me in, tells him why I need his ear for a few minutes, and then walks out leaving the door open.



I follow her, shutting the door, and then sit down.



“We on a top secret mission, Miss Monroe?” the dean asks.



“Actually, kinda. I know Maggie came in and spoke to you earlier and that you didn’t have good news for her.”



“I’m afraid not. I have some alumni that I could call, but usually the first thing they ask is about the student’s grades. Hers are not stellar.”



“But she does tons of activities and she still gets mostly Bs.”



“I’ll do what I can,” he says.



“That’s not good enough.” I lay my checkbook on his desk. “Okay, then, I’d like to start a scholarship fund. One for emergency situations such as this. And I’d like the first recipient to be Maggie. This scholarship comes with a few strings.”



“What kind of strings?”



“It’s anonymous.”



“Many are. That’s not a problem. Will this be a one-time scholarship?”



“You mean will it be just for Maggie or will it go on for other students too?”



“Yes, most scholarship funds go on for years, but we can set this up so that it just helps Maggie.”



I think about Eastbrooke and how at home and safe I’ve felt during my short time here. The amazing people I’ve met. I don’t want anyone to have to leave if they don’t want to. I don’t want them to have to say good-bye to their friends.



“I think I’d like it to go on after Maggie. How would I do that?”



He rolls his chair over to a file cabinet and pulls out a folder. “This is what we give to someone interested in setting up a fund. Typically, they donate a large enough amount so that it supports itself.”



“What do you mean?”



“The school invests the donation and the scholarship money is taken out of the dividends earned.”



I smile. “I like that idea.” Something that will go on long after I’m gone. I flip through the file looking for specific numbers. “I don’t see any suggested amounts. What would it take to fund something like this? I want it to be more than just the tuition. I want to include, like, a stipend too.”



“Are you really serious about this?”



“Yes, very.”



“Okay, well, if you wanted to do it every year for one student, then decide how much of a stipend you want them to receive. If you figure your initial investment to earn a conservative ten percent, that’s how you figure it.”



I do some quick math in my head. “I want you to be able to use your discretion. I want each student to get this.” I write down a number. “Plus have room, board, meals, and activities covered. Which is this.” I write down another number. “So that means if I wanted it available for, say, three to five students a year, then I’d need this?”



“Yes, that’s right.”



“And you promise no one will know who gets the funds? I don’t want their friends to know they needed help.”



“We’ll notify you anytime we have a need. If you want, you can be the one to decide if the need is great enough.”



“Would you have given it to Maggie if this scholarship was already in place?”



He nods. “Maggie is a lovely person and an asset to our school, regardless of her grades. She’s active socially. Always upbeat. I suspect she will be in the running for dance team captain next year. She’d even be a candidate for prefect if she brought her grades up.”



I start to get little tears in my eyes. I’m so happy I’m able to do this. And I know Maggie will be so relieved. I open my checkbook. “Who do I make it out to?”



“Are you sure you are in a position to do this? It’s very unusual for a current student to start a scholarship fund.”



“I’m not like most students,” I say with a sad smile. “When will you tell her?”



“I’ll have to do some paperwork to get everything set up, and let the check clear before we can do anything officially. But I’ll call the bank to verify that the funds are in place and tell Maggie we’ve found a solution this afternoon, if you’re sure.”



“I’m sure,” I say, getting up to leave.



“Keatyn,” he says, “sit back down. Is everything all right?”



“I’m fine, thank you.”



“You don’t seem fine. You looked sad just now.”



“I have some family issues. They’re starting to sort themselves out, but when I left for Thanksgiving break, I wasn’t sure I’d be back. I have little sisters and I need to make sure they are . . .” I almost say safe, but stop myself. “Happy. Well taken care of.”



“I understand. Family should always come first. How are your boxing lessons going?”



“Haven’t had any since we got back. I need to coordinate that too.”



“Mr. Steele was in here earlier today.”



“Oh, really?”



“He wanted to know if I was okay with him incorporating your lessons into soccer practice for the team.”



“How is he going to do that?”



“I believe self defense is going to be part of your workouts several times a week. Really, I’m all for you girls learning how to defend yourselves.”



“Wow! That would be awesome! And mean I get more sleep.”



“I was going to say give you more time for homework.”



“That too,” I say as the bell rings. “Thanks. I better get to lunch.”



I’m perfect.



Lunch



I sneak up on Aiden in the lunch line and kiss his shoulder.



“Where were you? I went to meet you at ceramics so we could walk to lunch together, but Jake said you left class early.



“I just wanted out of class. And I had a couple things I wanted to okay with the dean about the baskets for Saturday night.”



“Did he okay them?”



“Yep. All ready to go.”



“Hey, before we sit down, is Maggie okay?”



“I think so. Why?”



“Logan just said she’s been acting funny. Really happy one minute, totally depressed the next. And that’s not really like her.”



“I think it’s okay that I tell you. The reason she went to Logan’s on Thanksgiving was because she got into an argument with her stepdad and her mom totally took his side.”



“So she’s still upset about that?”



“I don’t know for sure. But I know I would be.”



“And how about you?”



“You’re standing here with me, Aiden. Right now, I’m perfect.”



I get the blazing smile. “That makes me happy. Promise me you’ll tell me if anything goes on with Chelsea, okay?”



“I promise.”



We sit down at our table and, just as I’m taking a bite of salad, Annie plops down across from me so hard she shakes the whole table.



“He broke up with me! I was going to break up with him, but the asshole beat me to it!”



“What’d he say?”



“He said I was getting too serious. He’s the one who asked me out! How was I getting too serious?”



Jake says, “He’s stupid. Why he’d want a skank like Chelsea, I have no idea.”



“Because she’s really pretty,” Annie says. “And she’s easy.”



“Easy is not a good thing,” Jake tells her.



“Actually, Annie,” I say, “you should get glammed up with Whitney, Peyton, and me. We’re going to do each other’s makeup before the party.”



“Sounds fun.”



“Good, because Ace will be at the party. And you know what they say.”



“What do they say?”



“Looking good is the best revenge.”



Annie nods. “I like that. I want him to see me looking all glamorous and want me back.”



“Fight fire with fire.” I laugh.



“By looking hot?” Maggie asks. “I want in on that too.”



“Me too,” Katie chimes in. “Bryce, you’ll be drooling.”



“Of course, it sort of depends on what outcome you want,” I tell Annie.



“What outcome?”



“Yeah, do you really want him back or do you just want him to want you back?”



Annie thinks about it for a minute, then says, “No way I’d take him back. Even if it means I end up dateless for Winter Formal.”



“I bet you’ll have a date before he does,” Maggie says.



Your gaydar is broken.



French



Miss Praline starts right in on a lecture, so I write a note to Aiden and drop it over my shoulder.



I bought you some birthday presents last night. I’m excited for you to open them.



All I want for my birthday is you.



Like all of me? Does that mean you’re ready to?



I’ve been ready, Boots. I want you to be ready.



I know. I appreciate that.



French weekend will be busy. I’m really excited for it. I’m going to try to speak French to you the whole time.



Really?



Ha. Well, I wish, but probably not. I’ve been studying a few key phrases though.



Like what?



It’s a secret.



Are they from the dirty French book?



Nope.



Darn . . .



Next weekend, I told you my parents are coming in for your dance competition and for my birthday. Then, I was thinking . . .



About what?



You’re done with the competition on Friday at noon. My parents are going to visit some friends and Peyton is leaving to spend the weekend with Damian. What if we spent the weekend at your loft? We could relax, go Christmas shopping, see the Rockefeller tree all lit up.



Miss Praline finishes her lecture and gives us time to work on our homework, so I turn around. “I’d love that.”



Aiden grazes my hand with his finger, giving me instant goose bumps. “Je veux vos lèvres sur les miennes,” he says, his voice rough with desire.



Annie rolls her eyes. “Don’t be all sexy and say I want your lips on mine in French. It’s depressing.”



“Annie, it’s Ace’s loss,” Aiden says to her. “How do you know there’s not someone better waiting for you? He was your first serious boyfriend, right?”



“Yeah,” she says, probably wondering where he’s going with this.



“See? He was your warm up pitches.”



“What do you mean?”



“In baseball, the pitcher gets to throw a few pitches before he faces a batter. Maybe Ace was your warm up and you’re ready to start the game for real.”



Annie ponders that.



“Is there anyone you think is cute?” I ask, hoping she has a list.



“Well, sure. There are lots of cute guys.”



“Any who are single?”



“Well, I mean, Jake is super hot, and he was really sweet at lunch, but I know he was just being nice. He’d never go for me.”



“I think you’re wrong. But what about Brad? He’s not seeing anyone either, and he’ll be there tonight.”



“Oh, he’s really cute too. And he’s got those broad shoulders.”



“I’m not completely sure,” Aiden says in a hushed voice, “but I think Brad might bat for the other team.”