Chapter 3

DIFFERENT SHADES OF SHIT

/-Hazel-/

“Come on, best. Cheer up! His Dad doesn't like you, so what? It's not like he has a say in your relationship or anything,” Logan tries to cheer me up.

It would have worked if he wasn't missing the point.

“I don't care if his dad likes me or not. It's the fact that he goes out of his way to show his spite. First, a B, and then he calls me a whore at dinner and I don't even know what I did wrong,” I huff.

“Uhm… I'm pretty sure the professor had no idea who you were at the time he scored your script…” Logan scratches his head awkwardly and I throw him a glare.

“That is not the point! My annoying art professor is my boyfriend's father and he hates me. Don't you get it?” I groan.

“You don't want him to hate you?” He asks and I shoot him a glare.

“I don't care if he hates me or not. I don't just want him making it so obvious…”

“Sweetheart, you're not making any sense. You've been going on and on for the past thirty minutes and I still have no idea what you're saying. It's either you care that he hates you or you don't. And I don't even think he hates you,” Logan shrugs.

I resist the urge to rip my hair off in frustration and focus on my notebook.

“My parents are back,” I mumble, sagging my shoulders.

“Oh, baby,” he wraps his arms around me in a comforting hug.

“We had a fight, way before she even smiled. I wasn't expecting a heartwarming hug or anything but it'd be nice to take a break from the fights, you know,” I sigh sadly.

“It's okay. It'll all be alright. Don't beat yourself,” he strokes my hair gently. It’s the best way of comforting me. One I deeply appreciate.

After that, we attend a bunch of classes until lunch break. I'm about to follow him to Sandies, a restaurant just opposite the school where college students hang out when a group of jobless nitwits step in.

From the heavy perfume, I can tell it's Lauren. Ever since she got an A, she has been parading herself as the queen of the place.

“Hey loser,” she sneers.

“I see you've exhausted your fakeness bundle for the year. I was wondering when you'd stop playing nice and bitch up with pride,” I cross my arms with a smile.

The triumph on her face slips off to reveal the malicious glare. I stare curiously, waiting for her to enlighten me on what this new drama is about.

“Well, I just came to let you in on a little secret,” she steps closer, suffocating me with her perfume, “you might not be representing the school this year at the nationals.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I'm the best, everyone knows that,” I retort.

“The best? You got a B in a simple classwork. I always knew Professor Biden was partial. Anyways, you have a strong competition now and I'm guessing you already know that's me…”

“Can you go straight to the point?” I cut in.

“Fine. I talked with the professor and indicated my interest in representing the school. He said I have potential, but I would have to beat you in front of everyone to secure the spot. So here I am to officially challenge you to a painting contest,” Lauren says.

For a second, everything else filters out. Just Lauren's words echoing. In my years of representing the school, I've come second twice in a row which is the highest they'd ever gone in the Nationals and now some new professor encourages a girl who can only paint a bowl of fruits to challenge me.

“This has to be a joke. Everyone knows Hazel would beat you hands down without even batting an eyelash,” Logan defends.

“Will she?” Lauren snorts. “What happened, big shot? Cat caught your tongue?”

“Maybe you could put that in practice. Fruit bowls won't get you much at the nationals,” I retort, walking out on them.

“Hazel! Wait up…” I hear Logan calling behind him but I don't stop. My entire being is boiling with anger. Why does he seize every opportunity to mess with me?

What did I even do to deserve all of this? First, my drawing, then dinner, now the nationals?

All in less than forty-eight hours of knowing him!

Logan grabs my hand but I shrug him off in anger.

“What?!” I snap.

“You need to calm down, Haz. It's not as serious as you think…”

“Not serious? Are you kidding me? This man is going out of his way to ruin my life and you're saying it's not serious? Do you have the slightest idea what my parents would do once I miss the nationals?” I raise my voice.

He glanced at the hallway worriedly.

“You don't, right? I'll tell you. They will withdraw me instantly and shove me into a medical school. How am I supposed to live then?” I yell.

“Please calm down. I understand your pain but don't do something you'll regret,” he pleads.

“I don't care what you say but I'm going to file an official complaint against that man. Maybe then, he would take the hint and stay the fuck away from me!”

“Hazel no…”

But I'm already stomping my way to the provost's office. I might hate my family but I won't hesitate to use their influence when need be.

Mykel Ryder is a bone in my neck and I won't hesitate to get rid of him.

After laying my complaints, the rest of my day goes pretty well until a student calls my attention.

I head to the provost's office as demanded and right there, sitting next to the empty seat is ye very thorn in my flesh.

“Miss Acker, please have a seat.”

Mykel turns his head and his eyes pierce through me like a dagger. I swallow hard, unsure of the next step to take. I hate that all he needs to do is look at me to make my body forget how to operate.

“Miss Acker…”

“Yeah, sure,” I blink, dragging my feet to the seat. It doesn't help that he is so close to me. His scent mixes with the oxygen and my breathing slows.

“Based on your complaint, we called in Mr Ryder here to justify his actions and clear his name. I am sure at the end of this meeting, we will reach an even ground.”

Even ground? I glance at him with the intent of holding his gaze but once my eyes meet his, I find myself cowering, looking away before a second even passed.

“Thank you for choosing diplomacy instead of jumping to conclusions as most people would…” he pauses when I shoot him a glare.

“Did you hear that? He's throwing…”

“It is rude to interrupt when others are speaking. No one will stop your rants when it's your turn,” he injects and my hands clench into fists.

Instead of reacting, I slump against my seat in frustration.

“Good girl,” he nods in approval, stunning me. I try to ignore the tingles inside, because it was damn obvious I was losing my mind, and pay attention.

“I was in my office earlier today when a certain girl, can't remember her name, came in. She started bugging me with questions about why the school only let Miss Acker represent them at the nationals and not others. I told her if she wanted to represent, she had to be better and prove she was. Challenge Miss Acker to a contest and let the school judge who's better,” he explains.

That bitch!

“You said she had potential,” I argue and he shoots me a disapproving look. I almost mouth an apology but my pride saves me.

“She has potential. So do you and many others. I thought that was common knowledge,” he answers nonetheless.

I wish he didn't because it just makes me look plain stupid. Coupled with the fact that I might have exaggerated my complaints a teeny little bit.

“That's it?” The provost asks.

“Yes sir.”

“But in her report, she said you were mobilizing students to challenge her and kick her out of every competition because she wasn't good enough. It also states here that you change her grades, in an attempt to make her drop out. Isn't that right, Miss Acker?”

Two pairs of eyes snap to me and all I want to do is sink into my seat and vanish forever.