I Hate You

“I hate you,” were the last words spit at me as Justin slammed the door closed on me and our friendship. To say I was stunned would have been an understatement. I didn’t even notice when Tina slipped on her clothes, kissed me on the cheek and left, saying, “I’d better go.” My best friend had just stormed out of my life, and I didn’t know why.

*****

Taking English 201 while the sun was shining, and there was a soft breeze, and the temperature was 85 degrees, was torture. Don’t get me wrong, I loved language, I spoke three fluently. Of course, being a Theater Major, my primary interest was the spoken word. That was why I was taking English 201 over the summer; I wanted to clear up my schedule for more performance credits.

Most everyone else was there because they were retaking the course. I thought that was pitiful. There were three of us who really cared about the subject. One was Gloria; she was from Argentina and English was her second language. The other was Justin; he was a freshman who had CLEPed his way through his 100 level English courses and came to the University a semester early. He wanted to be a writer and we hit it off from the beginning.

Of course, we were an odd pair. I’m “Mr. Social”. Nearly everyone in the theater program knew me or knew of me. Hell, I was recognized all over campus. If someone had me in their class they remembered it. Justin was a geek. Saying Justin was a geek was like calling a trout a fish. He was almost the classic, academic nerd. Justin was a short, wiry guy with unruly brown hair, glasses that did nothing for his face and clothes that were best described as “skater geek”. His one non-academic pastime was his board. It was the only part of Justin that broke the geek mold. His board was as much a fixture for him as his book bag and laptop.

The first time I saw him really skating, not just using the board as a quick ride from class to class, was about mid-semester. I was heading down to the fields for a Saturday morning game of Frisbee when I caught sight of a small group of skaters using one of the twisting sections of the back lot to do tricks.

I’d been so impressed by one guy catching air off the steps that I didn’t notice I was walking into a “skate zone.”

“Look Out!” I spun out of the way and hit the grass. When I looked up, ready to curse the careless son-of-a-bitch out, I saw Justin looking down at me. “Hey, Bryan, you ok?”

He looked so different standing there, shirtless without his glasses, that I almost hadn’t recognized him. He was a wiry little fuck. He had laughing eyes that were all but hidden when he wore his glasses.

“Damn, Justin.” I got up and brushed myself off. “I know you like me, but you don’t have to plow me into the dirt to get my attention.”

Justin looked down. “Yeah, sorry Bryan.” He turned to head back to the start of the skate run.

Why’d it bother me that he thought I was mad at him? “Hey, how long you going to skate?”

Shrugging, he looked at his watch. “Another half hour I guess. Asphalt will be too hot to do anything after that.”

“Some guys are getting together for Frisbee down on the field. Why don’t you come down after you’re done?” He was a bit short but if he had the moves that’d make up for it.

He blinked at me. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll even hang while you finish your freaky shit.” The smile he gave me in response just melted me. It wasn’t sexual, I like girls, but he was just such a cute kid that it was like having a puppy.

He impressed me that morning. Justin was an ace on four wheels. He could do spins, jumps, twists, ride railings, and there didn’t seem to be anything he couldn’t do on a board. That sure blew away my original idea that he was a simple geek. I think he was showing off, but it worked. I couldn’t stop complimenting his skill as we got down to the games field.

“I just can’t believe a bookworm like you can skate like that.”

He beamed. “Dad insisted that I had to be outside doing something ‘physical’ any day it wasn’t raining. I hated team sports so I just rode my board around. After a while, I just got into it.”

I laughed and waved at the guys. “Hey guys, this is Justin.”

They all greeted Justin with smiles. I looked at our group and realized we could play teams of three.

“Want to do teams?” The affirmative nods went all around but Justin looked a bit unsure. I smiled and put my hand on Justin’s shoulder. “Well, since Just’s already shirtless, we’ll be skins.”

Tony decided he’d go skins since he was shirtless too. Teams were set. Smiling, I handed my Frisbee to Justin and peeled off my shirt. When I tossed my shirt beside his board, he just watched with a wide-eyed wonder. He probably couldn’t believe I’d just take him on my team sight-unseen. I laughed and mussed his hair. “Come on, squirt, let’s teach these lard-asses that brains and beauty always wins over brawn.”

Everyone laughed but I think I put Justin on the spot. He blushed. He did play like a pit bull though. His throwing arm sucked, but he wasn’t afraid to dive and roll so he could catch a hell of a lot of tosses the others would let go by. We didn’t win, but it was not for a lack of effort.

That was when we started hanging together more. We made Saturday morning board and game a ritual. Justin would skate till the asphalt got uncomfortably hot and then we’d head for the fields for a Frisbee or V-ball game. He tried to get me on the board a few times. All I ended up doing was breaking my ass on the pavement, and trying to look like I meant to do it. Of course, I got him back. I got to spike him into the sand more than a couple times in V-ball. It was kind of like sibling rivalry; I loved it. I’d always wanted a kid brother, and Justin fit the bill perfectly.

It was near the end of the summer session when I got my room assignment and realized I’d lucked out; I didn’t have a roommate. Justin had gotten placed in one of the older dorms, Brownstone Hall; the place sucked. We were having lunch just before exams week when I decided I didn’t like the idea of living alone.

“Just,” I asked between bites of my hotdog, “would you like to room together?”

I thought he was going to choke. I should have waited till he’d finished swallowing his bite of burger. He dropped his burger on his plate and took a huge swig of Coke. He blinked back the usual tears from just having something try to dive down the wrong pipes and coughed. “You mean it?” He looked at me like I’d just offered him a winning lottery ticket.

“Yeah. My freshmen roommate sucked, and since you didn’t sign up for anyone you know you’re going to be in a crapshoot for whom you get.” I shrugged. “We get along, and there’s a chance they’ll stick me with some jerk at the last minute. At least with you, I know this year I’ll like my roomie.”

He smiled; the only thing ruining his puppy-dog look were those fucking glasses. “You don’t mind rooming with a freshman?” For a guy who really had decent, if odd, taste in clothes, why he wore glasses out of the sixties was lost on me.

Laughing I punched him in the arm. “Nah, you’re a geek but you make me laugh!”

*****

Stafford Hall was a major step up from Brownstone. In Brownstone, there were two community bathrooms per floor. The rooms were like sardine cans. The only saving grace was the ceilings were high enough for people to loft their beds. Rooms in Stafford were larger and one bathroom was shared between two dorm rooms. As with every college student with obsessions, Justin and I had to decorate our halves of the room with examples of our interests. My half had posters of Shakespeare in the Park, Le Miz, Phantom, and Rocky Horror. Don’t ask me why I love Rocky but I do; something about the expressive freedom and audience participation was just a natural high for me. Justin put up a poster of Mark Twain, one that listed the requirements of creativity, and a couple pro skater posters. Along with the picture of his parents, he had a picture of a skater catching air. At first I thought it was a picture of Justin, but the guy had darker, longer hair.

“Hey, Justin, who’s the skater?” I nodded to the picture as he stuffed his socks and underwear into his dresser.

He came over and picked up the picture. His fingers traced it. “That’s Matt, Matt Thompson.