Some Kind of Hate by Sarah Darer Littman

Author:Sarah Darer Littman [Darer Littman, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult Fiction, Social Themes, Prejudice & Racism, Friendship, Religious, Jewish
ISBN: 9781338746822
Google: qFBUEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2022-11-01T09:01:30.583263+00:00

• • •

Dad is tight-lipped with anger until we get in the car. Then he lets loose.

“What is the matter with you, Declan? You can’t even go a full day of school without getting into trouble?”

“It’s not my fault!” I protest. “Jake came over and started blaming me for something I had nothing to do with.”

“That’s not what I heard from school—or from Kayleigh, who sent Mom and me a pretty angry text saying that you’d used her phone to send something hateful to her friend Arielle—and that things escalated from there to the point the poor girl had to leave school.” He shoots me a sideways glance. “Are you sure you had nothing to do with this?” he asks. “Who else would have access to Kayleigh’s phone?”

“Why are you so focused on what happened to Arielle instead of the bigger picture?” I ask him. “Kramer laid you off! People like him are making our life impossible. If we don’t fight them, we won’t survive!”

“What do you mean ‘people like him’?” Dad asks.

“Globalists. The people who are trying to cause white genocide.”

Dad’s eyes widen. “Hold on there … White genocide? Where are you getting this from?”

“My friends. Online. I’ve researched it. You don’t seem to get it, Dad.”

“You’re right, I don’t get it,” Dad says, shaking his head like he’s disappointed in me—again. “I’m the one who got laid off. You can be mad at Kramer for doing it—I sure am—but taking things out on his kid like that is just wrong.”

Ugh. Why isn’t he listening? It’s like I’m offering him the key to understanding, but he doesn’t want to take it.

“It’s affected me, too,” I say, wanting him to understand, to wake up and smell the conspiracy to destroy us. “Thanks to Kramer, we don’t have health insurance, which means I can’t get PT, which means I’m probably never going to be able to play baseball again.” I feel sick even saying those words aloud. I don’t want to believe them. “How come you aren’t pissed about that?”

We’re stopped at a light, and Dad puts his head on the steering wheel, his shoulders slumped. I want him to stand up and fight, like the Crusaders in Imperialist Empires. I want him to pull out his sword and destroy the people who are doing this to me. To us.

When he raises his head, his face is flushed. “You think I’m not upset about the situation we’re in? You think I’m not furious and bitter?” He hits the steering wheel. “Obviously I am—but I’ve got a family to feed and a mortgage to pay. I can’t afford to sit around playing video games and indulging in my self-pity like you do!”

He had to make this about me being a loser. Because of course he did.

“My number one focus has to be on getting a new job,” Dad continues. “That’s why I’ve spent the entire morning on that stupid computer trying to figure out how the heck to do it. When I applied for the job at Pinnacle, I filled out a paper form and had an interview with a person.

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