Page 11 of Playing Hard to Hate

TEN YEARS AGO

I officially hated school. Not sure whose bright idea it was to have a father-daughter dance, but it was a stupid one. Of course, everyone in my grade all whispered about Tatum Grace and how I didn’t have a dad.

Griffin found me crying at our usual lunch table while I ate the sad peanut butter and jelly sandwich my mom made me.

Lately, it had been peanut butter and jelly for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

I was so sick of peanut butter. When I told Mom that, she told me it was PB&J or nothing.

Obviously, I’d rather have this than nothing.

“And you’re crying about what? You know you cry all the time now. It’s getting annoying,” he commented, sitting across from me, munching on a crisp red apple.

“You’re a jerk.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him.

“Want my chocolate bar? Mom packed a Snickers today.” He held it up and waved it in front of my face. I grabbed it and immediately started munching on it .

“There’s a stupid dance this weekend,” I mumbled around the caramelly goodness.

“So? Just don’t go.” He shrugged like it was no big deal when I was the only girl in our school without a father. Talk about embarrassing.

“It’s a father-daughter dance.”

“Dads are overrated,” he grumbled, and I knew he was still upset about his dad missing yet another baseball game. But at least his dad came home every night. They had dinner together, and he didn’t have to move or eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for every freaking meal.

“I’m going to be the only one who doesn’t go, and everyone will talk about me on Monday morning.”

“Since when did you care about what everyone else thinks? Did they come to your birthday party? No. Did they say anything nice to you when he left? No. Has anyone even tried to be your friend this year? Again, no. Stop caring about the girls. You have me, and you’ll always have me,” he said, munching on his sandwich.

“Says who? You’ve been ditching me to hang out with Hunter and Graham.” I pointed out, still butt hurt over finding out I wasn’t cool enough to hang out with him and his new friends.

“Dude, chill. They were teaching me some tricks for the next game. You know, in case my dad comes,” he admitted softly.

“Still don’t see why I couldn’t join you. Are you embarrassed of me?”

He immediately shook his head. “Of course not. You’re my best friend. Just didn’t think you’d want to hang out and watch us play baseball all day.”

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and I groaned. This was my favorite part of the day. The twenty minutes I got to spend with Griffin. Twenty freaking minutes of admiring his eyes and his hair and loving the way he always gave me his chocolate bar.

Mom said I had a crush on him. I hoped I wasn’t the only one. I’d read books and watched movies about friends who turned into more, and I could only dream of Griffin looking at me like I was more than just his best friend.

The rest of the week absolutely dragged. I had to listen to all the girls talk about their dresses, the matching ties their dads were going to wear, and all the cool things that would happen at the dance.

By Friday lunchtime, I was completely miserable.

And Griffin was late for lunch again . Which was becoming a daily occurrence because he had to stop by Graham and Hunter’s lunch table first, and then he’d make his way to ours.

Not sure why he didn’t just invite them to our table.

There were two extra seats, but he seemed adamant about keeping them separate from me.

When he finally slumped down in the seat beside me, I put my hand out for today’s chocolate bar, and he laughed. “What if it’s my favorite flavor today?”

“Too bad. You’re late, and you know the rules.

” He rolled his eyes and handed over the Milky Way, which was indeed his favorite.

I smirked as I slowly ate the chocolate bar, moaning with every bite to make him feel bad.

“Oh, this is sooo good. You want a bite? Wait, just kidding!” I stuffed the last bite in my mouth and enjoyed the glare forming on his face.

“You’re a brat.” He rummaged through the rest of his lunch, threw me a bag of cookies his mom packed, and bit into his usual apple.

“You love me anyway.”

He rolled his eyes and then focused on a group of girls at a table across from us. He didn’t usually pay the girls any attention. This was new, and my heart immediately sank. “What are we doing after school?” I asked, getting his attention again.

“I have plans with the boys,” he said casually, looking anywhere but at me.

The boys…

“Another Friday you’re ditching me? Jeez, what gives?”

“Maybe you need to learn how to make some friends,” he spat, and my jaw dropped.

“Whatever.” I stood from the table, grabbed my backpack, and ran before he could see the tears falling down my cheeks.

Mom worked late on Friday nights, so I walked home alone from the bus, let myself into the house with the spare key we kept hidden under a turtle statue in the front garden, and scoured through the cabinets looking for anything fun to eat while I binge watched whatever TV show was playing on cable.

But alas, all we had was peanut butter, jelly, and white bread. Mom really needed to go grocery shopping.

She was working herself ragged the last couple weeks, and I had heard her on the phone with Dad, pleading for his child support money, whatever that was, but the conversation seemed futile because no money came.

Picking up my phone, I dialed the number I had memorized by heart and waited, wondering if Dad would answer an unknown number.

“This is Lawrence Grace,” he answered eventually, and I got scared and hung up, paced the kitchen, glanced at the empty cabinets, and called back. “Who is this?” he answered immediately.

“Hi, Dad,” I said in a whisper, instantly regretting the little bit of courage I had to call.

“Tate? Princess, is that really you?” I wanted to make some mean comment like who else could it be, his other daughter? But then thought better of it because maybe there was another daughter.

“You need to pay Mom. There’s no food. She’s working all the time. I never see her. You left us. Give her the money she keeps begging you for.”

“Honey, how are you? I’ve missed you. You haven’t answered my calls until now,” he said excitedly into the phone.

“You could have visited. I know Mom gave you the new address.”

“I live very far away now, honey.”

“Then you don’t miss me. Because if you did, you would visit. You would send the money Mom keeps asking for so I can eat something other than peanut butter and freaking jelly sandwiches!” I stomped, so angry with my dad for leaving us.

“I didn’t realize it was so bad. Do you want to come live with me?”

“No! I wanted you to love me and my mom, but you couldn’t. And then you took Dustin! You took everything from us! Just give Mom money.”

“You really just called after four years of silence for money, Tatum? Your mother and I raised you better than that,” he scolded.

“You haven’t been around to raise me, Dad. You left me. You never gave me the bike you promised. You never called to apologize. You disappeared like a ghost!” I screamed.

Silence. Absolute silence. I heard a woman’s voice in the background and wondered if that was his new wife. Because, for some reason, my mom wasn’t good enough.

“I’ll send the money. Will you call me again?” I think about the father-daughter dance I can’t go to this weekend, and a tear rolls down my cheek as I shake my head before realizing he can’t see me.

“There’s a father-daughter dance this weekend, and every girl in school made fun of me. So, no, Dad. I will not call again.” I hung up and then sat down on the raggedy couch and cried while some stupid cartoon played on the tv.

The next day, Mom screamed when she got a notification about a deposit of money into her account.

We went straight to the grocery store and bought all our favorite things.

We made ice cream sundaes when we got home, something we hadn’t done in months, and for the first time in a while, I saw Mom smile.

Griffin had called the landline ten times, and Mom said it was rude not to answer, but I was still mad at him for ditching me. But if he hadn’t, I would never have called my dad, and my mom wouldn’t be this happy. So, when the phone rang the eleventh time, I answered.

“Fin,” I answered sternly.

“Tate,” he said back in the same tone.

“Call your boys.”

“Need you to come over. Wear something pretty.” He hung up, leaving me suspicious.

I told Mom the news, but she was already grinning like she knew what he had up his sleeve.

She helped me get ready, doing my hair and a little bit of mascara and lip gloss.

I wondered where I would be going with the Silvers.

Usually, all our plans were made well in advance.

Mom drove us to Griffin’s house. It was weird going to his house and looking over at what had been my home now filled with strangers who let the flowers die in the front and didn’t clean up their toys in the front yard.

“I miss living here,” I told Mom as we pulled into the Silver’s driveway .

“Me too, honey,” she answered, staring at the house wistfully.

Griffin was at the front door running down the steps to me in a little black tuxedo, his usually untamed hair gelled down, his gray eyes wild with excitement. What on earth was going on?

“I have a surprise for you, Tate!” he screamed as I opened the car door and stepped out unevenly in the heels Mom insisted I wear.

Griffin, who usually towered over me, wasn’t so tall now.

It was like we were kids again, both looking into each other’s eyes and not me looking up into his. I liked this.

He grabbed my hand and took off running through the front door of his house, through to the backyard.

I struggled to keep up in the ridiculous shoes and giggled until my eyes landed on the elaborate scene in his backyard.

There were decorations hanging everywhere, and music was playing.

Mrs. Silver was standing in front of a table with drinks and snacks, grinning ear to ear, and there was a dance floor over the pool.

“Griff, what is this?” I asked, blinking back tears.

“You couldn’t go to the dance, so I brought it to you. Hunter and Graham helped me, which is why I couldn’t hang out with you. I’m sorry I ditched you, but it was with good intent.” He grinned, and my little heart exploded with love for this boy.

“Fin, you did this for me?” I asked, taking everything in as the sun set and lights turned on all around us.

“You’re my best friend, Tate. I’d do anything for you.”