-Drawing People-

            Everyone knows I hate him.  It’s certainly no secret in this pathetic little town.  We’ve been at each other’s throats since the beginning of high school when I bullied his little brother.

            I can still see little Sorata Takahashi running away from me in tears, his long, dark hair sticking to the moisture on his face and mouth.  He gave up his new game cartridges and his prize set of trading cards to escape me, the evil bully who picked on seven-year-olds in his spare time.

            Now, of course, I realize how stupidly I acted, especially since it led to the situation with Daisuke Takahashi.  Did I mention that I hate him?  It seems kind of pointless now, with Lena sitting beside me, humming some sappy pop song, arranging her pretty red hair in the visor mirror of my car.  She thinks I’m doing this for her, to make her happy and resolve past differences.  Yeah, right.

            In school, Daisuke had a reputation as the quiet one, the smart, standoffish guy, and yet, everyone inherently knew that you didn’t mess with the quiet one…except for me.  I had no idea Sorata had an older brother, until Daisuke kicked my ass after school one afternoon.  After that, all I could think about involved getting him back, hurting him, humiliating him, beating him at something, anything to get my pride back.

            “I’m really glad you’re coming to see him, Michael,” Lena tells me softly.  I can see her smile out of the corner of my eye, as I drive.  She’s wearing a big, blue university sweatshirt I gave her and some dangly gold earrings.  Lena is lucky she never had to suffer through the early years of high school.  When she finally got out of the hospital two years ago, she was already sixteen.  Mom enrolled her in a private school after that, and she never had any trouble fitting in.

            High school, for me, was all about competition.  My goal in life focused on whatever new game or sport that appeared.  If I could beat Daisuke Takahashi at chess, or basketball or track or video games, I would be able to regain my pride.  Gradually it evolved into a ritual, a sort of traditional humiliation with both of us seeking to hurt the other one.  I would have given anything to see Daisuke embarrassed or defeated.  But the ritual never had any alternate outcome.  He left me lying in the dust every time.

            “What do you do well?” my counselor asked me.

            Nothing, I thought, but she wouldn’t accept that.

            “Um, I’m good at drawing people.”

            Daisuke beat me at everything, but I couldn’t stop trying to get him back.

            “I don’t know why the two of you ever started this in the first place,” Lena says, trying to fill up the silence, “There really isn’t even anything left to fight over.”

            She’s right, of course.  Nobody cares about all the stupid games we played in high school.  I even became friends with little Sorata, and he’s one of the coolest kids I know.  So why do I still cling to this thing with his brother?  Hurting Daisuke was a pointless, ridiculous goal.  He always had a comeback to hurt me worse.  But I had such a passion, such a drive to get at him, and I couldn’t let it go.

            We’ve reached the little café now, and I pull into a parking space.  Lena is already scrambling to release her seat belt and craning her neck for a glimpse of Daisuke.  But the light glares off the wide windows, and we’re at a bad angle to see inside.

            Lena hops out of the car and smoothes her hands over her jeans.  Her face turns to me, pink with anticipation, and she asks breathlessly, “How is my hair?”

            You’ve only been staring at it in the mirror the entire way here, I think bad-temperedly.  But of course I don’t say that.

            “Gorgeous, as always,” I tell, her attempting a smile.  It’s nothing but the truth.  My sister is undeniably pretty, in a fresh, innocent way.  Strands of red hair curl around her delicate ears and her blue eyes are wide with excitement.  After spending half her life in a hospital, waiting for a damn transplant, Lena sees things differently than I do.

            The funny thing is that all through high school, Daisuke never made a single friend.  He seemed to instinctively drive people away in any way he could, to keep his uncomplicated solitude.  Handsome, talented Daisuke sat in his corner of the classroom and read in icy silence.  He never had a single girlfriend the entire time I knew him…until he met my sister.

            Lena had just gotten out of the hospital a week earlier and we were at the game shop where I hung out with all my friends.  I was watching Sorata cream Jason at some lame racing game.  I swear that kid is unbeatable when it comes to video games.  The only time I’ve won against him is when he let me once, to make me feel better.

            Lena sat there on her stool, reading a magazine, when Daisuke came in to pick up his brother.  Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought up any insults, so I contented myself with simply glaring coldly at him.  Daisuke didn’t spare a glance for Lena or me; he just pulled a coat onto little Sorata’s arms and dragged his brother out the door.  But as a parting shot, he mockingly advised me not to stare at him because, “People might think you’re attracted to me.”  Of course then I had to run at him, but Jason held me back.  Lena just watched him leave, her mouth half open, and demanded to know who he was.

            She followed him around for a week after that, like a lost puppy.  I used to say that he only went out with her to get back at me, but two years is a long time to keep up a relationship for the sake of a grudge, especially since I went away to college not long after they got together, and he couldn’t gloat in my face any more.  Even worse, it seems that after two years of dating Daisuke, Lena is still insanely in love with the bastard.

            She sees him now, and I watch her wave enthusiastically at the shadow in the window.  I take a slow breath and step forward to see him, arranging my face into a sullen mask.  Daisuke is sitting in a corner booth, typing away at his laptop, oblivious to the rest of the world.  His long, golden fingers move fluidly over the keys, pausing only to brush dark hair out of his eyes before continuing.  He’s wearing a plain white shirt, rolled up at the elbows, simple and professional.  His intent eyes are looking down at the computer screen, watching the flow of type, and he doesn’t see us watching him.

            I don’t blame Lena for staring, but I hate him for being so beautiful.

            She rushes to open the door, and I follow her, trying to look as unwilling as possible.  For a moment she stops and looks back at me, biting her lip.

            “Please try to be civil, Michael,” Lena says, “It means a lot to me that you guys get along.  You’re the two men I love the most.”

            When we reach the booth, Daisuke finally glances up.  He smiles at Lena for a moment before his eyes go to me, and it twists into a smirk.  God, I hate that smirk.

            Lena scoots onto the seat beside him and leans her head into his shoulder.  Absently, Daisuke reaches up and strokes her hair.  His eyes are still on me.

            “Be nice,” I hear Lena whisper into his shirt.