the hating game ; lrh

nine

THE FOLLOWING DAY, I sit across from Luke at the very same kitchen counter around which we'd held our argument the previous night. Books and papers are strewn out all along the counter before us, and Luke ruffles through the seemingly endless pile in an attempt to find a practice quiz for me to complete.

"I can just print one off," I tell him for the millionth time, tapping my pen against the counter.

"Shut up," he retorts, continuing to sift through the papers. "And stop tapping. It's fucking annoying."

I sigh, but drop my pen down on the table nonetheless. Ever since our argument, Luke had been acting particularly hostile towards me — almost as if I'd greatly offended him by telling him I hate him. After a moment, Luke finally finds the paper and smacks it down in front of me.

"You need seventy-percent," he tells me, still avoiding eye contact as he gathers the papers together.

"What? I only need fifty to pass," I correct him, frowning across even though he won't look at me.

"I want you to get seventy," he says.

"Luke, I can't get seventy," I roll my eyes at his high expectations. Why was he trying to punish me like this? "I can barely scrape a passing grade, let alone a high one."

Luke finally turns to look me dead in the eyes, slamming his pile of papers back against the counter. "You'll get seventy," he demands in an eerily low, wavering voice.

For a moment I sit in silence, stunned by his outburst, before ultimately deciding that I won't stand for being spoken to in that way. "You're pushing me too hard," I tell him, shaking my head.

"I'm making sure you pass this unit," he counters in that same eerie tone.

"Exactly! Pass this unit, not get a seventy!" I throw my arms up by my side, frustrated at Luke's lack of empathy. "I'm doing the best I can, and at the moment that's not even a passing grade!"

Luke slams his hands down on the counter, making me jump in my seat, and leans forward menacingly. "I'm the tutor, not you!" He yells across at me. "If I tell you to get a seventy, do it!"

"You're punishing me!" I burst out, the words spilling out of my mouth in a scream.

"What?" Luke freezes, caught off guard by my comment.

"You're upset about what I said to you last night — about hating you," I remind him, watching as his blue eyes narrow and waver. "I don't know why, but you are."

Without a word, Luke begins gathering his papers messily, not even bothering to organise them as he normally does, and shoves them into a Manila folder. I watch him in awe as Calum sails down the stairs from where he had been sitting in his bedroom.

"Where are you going?" I ask Luke as he stands up from his stool. "We're not done here."

"Oh, I'm certainly fucking done," Luke retorts, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"Is everything okay?" Calum is at the bottom of the stairs now, his eyes flicking back and forth between us. "I heard yelling."

Luke spins around to face Calum. "Everything's fucking dandy," he says with a sarcastic smile. "Your sister is just being the pretentious, stuck-up little bitch she's always been and I'm not in the mood for her attitude today."

Calum stares back at Luke in surprise, eyes wide and mouth propped open as he stands there wordlessly. I roll my eyes, knowing my brother won't stand up for me, and turn to Luke myself. "You're being ridiculous," I tell him as he swings the front door open.