The Boy I Hate

Sixteen.

A cold breeze made the hair on my arms stand up as I paced the width of the West High bike rack. I folded my arms around myself in a failed attempt to warm up. My mind was flooding with numbers; trying to latch onto to anything I thought Richard might use as a code. I stopped my stride for a moment, "try 23-12-52. It's his mother's birthday."

Bobby, kneeling next to an unconscious Charlie on the gravel, sighed. "Nope."

"Right," I stepped forward again and continued my pace.

Around midnight my landline had received a call. It turned out to be the panicked voice of Bobby telling me there had been a conflict between the east and west side, which resulted in a beaten, battered Charlie getting strapped to a bike rack with Richard's childhood lock.

I would surely find time to investigate who to be mad at for letting it escalate this far, but for now we needed to get Charlie out of the parking lot. Meaning I was left guessing what the combination might be.

"Maybe 04-15-92? That's when she passed away."

Bobby spun the dial around, whispering the numbers back to himself. "That's not it either."

A sudden groan sounded from Charlie's throat, and both our heads snapped towards him. I quickened my my pace to them and kneeled next to Bobby. Charlie kept making small noises, and slowly stretched some of his muscles. I hadn't gotten this close yet, but it was clear how much damage the east side boys had done. I wasn't sure if all the blood on his face came from his lip or his nose, and I could already see his eye swelling up.

I felt my stomach drop a little. Had Richard really been a part of this? I knew he hated Charlie, but I didn't know he was capable of this kind of violence. It just seemed too extreme for a dumb high school rivalry. 

When his eyes fluttered open it took a second for him to take it all in. He glanced at both of us - glaring at me slightly - and tried to move his body to see what hurt. After a couple winces and a lot of blinking, he sunk back into his original position. "Those fucking assholes," even his voice sounded horse. 

He jiggled his hand around, as if he could just slide it out of the lock. He couldn't; they'd wrapped it around his arm like a snake. He whined again, "awesome."

I couldn't help but giggle, and quickly hid it in a cough when he glowered in my direction. He turned to Bobby, "why'd you invite her?"

I scoffed, but before I could retort Bobby interrupted, "she's trying to guess the code to get you out."

I cut in, "so a little respect would be appreciated."

"Wait," Charlie yawned, stretching his neck to get a view of the lock. "It's Richard's?"

"Yeah, I think so."

He rolled his eyes, "02-10-88."

I raised my eyebrows, reaching for the lock aggressively to start entering numbers. When it unlatched and Charlie's arm fell, my jaw dropped. "Why would he trap you with a combination you knew?"

He massaged his wrist. "He's taunting me." Bobby slung Charlie's arm over his shoulder to help him up. I rushed to his other side to help carry the weight. He flinched away from me at first, but eventually gave in - he couldn't walk on his own. "It's a message."

"A message?" We limped towards Bobby's mom's car. 

I helped shove Charlie into the front seat, and climbed into the middle of the back. Bobby started the car, and with empty roads we were speeding. He ignored me, so I asked again, "what kind of message? What does it mean? February 10th?"