Because of You

by Sam Mariano

  The teachers had always been careful to keep me and Derek Noble apart, but come high school, they either forgot or decided they didn't care anymore.

  Honestly, even though our lives—the lives of our parents— had been so entwined, I hadn't laid eyes on Derek Noble since that day in the grocery store when I was four years old. I knew nothing about him. I didn't know if he hated me along with the rest of the world, or if he even knew who I was.

  I was so used to being separated from him that it came as a surprise when I walked into the lunch room and sat down at what appeared to be a non-descript table, and a pair of gorgeous, somehow familiar blue eyes looked up at me, eyebrows raised as if surprised.

  I glanced at the kid, a boy with shoulder length golden hair, bright blue eyes and a strong, slanted jaw, but I simply gave him a funny look—because of the one he was giving me—and opened up my lunch bag.

  "Wow," he said.

  I didn't know if he was talking to me or not, but I glanced up anyway, my father's green eyes meeting his father's blue eyes. "Are you talking to me?" I asked.

  "You've got balls, Harmon, I'll give you that," he stated, tilting his head to the side a little.

  I honestly did not know who he was, but a feeling of discomfort settled in my stomach. "Excuse me?" I said.

  He merely stared at me as if I was mentally challenged.

  I cleared my throat. "Are you...?"

  "Derek Noble," he verified with a nod.

  "Oh," I said lamely, dropping my apple back into my bag. "I'm—”

  "Nikki Harmon," he said for me. "I know. Your mom killed mine, but sure, let’s do lunch.”

  Nobody ever called me Nikki but my mom, and I didn't feel like he had the right to call me that. He also didn’t seem inclined to make nice, so I decided it would be easier to get up and move to another table.

  "Oh, you're too good to sit here now?" he asked when I stood.

  My brow furrowed in confusion, and my lips pursed in annoyance. "You don't act like you want me to sit here. If you don't, I understand, I'm not in a big hurry to swap friendship bracelets with you either, but don't confuse me by acting like I've committed some atrocious act by getting up to move."

  That amused his friends, who all kind of laughed into their hands or ate something to cover their smiles. Derek, however, just stared at me, again making me feel stupid.

  I finally gave an annoyed huff and left the table, going off to find my own.

  That was just the beginning of my trouble concerning Derek Noble.

  I always attempted to avoid him at lunch, but Derek seemed to have inherited his father's belief that it was his duty in life to torment the Harmon women.

  I kept to myself, always brought a book to lunch to read while I ate, and carefully navigated my way past him in the hallways. Still, he would find time to walk by my table and "accidentally" knock my book off my table or "accidentally" knock my books out of my arms as he passed me in the hallway, and at every opportunity he would give me a sarcastic little wave and say, "Hi, Nikki. Pick out my friendship bracelet yet?" or some similarly stupid comment.

  Honestly, he annoyed the hell out of me.

  One day in 10th grade we had to share a math class, and I wasn't particularly good at math, while he could apparently solve every problem with his eyes closed, so I got to class early and started studying my notes before the test.

  When Derek entered the classroom he made sure he "fell" into my desk and grabbed a fistful of my notes, ripping them out of my binder and “accidentally” crumpling them up in his hands.

  Seeing as I had spent many painful hours making those notes, and I was PMSing that day anyway, I snapped. I jumped up from my desk and grabbed his hand with the fistful of my notes and exclaimed just a little too loudly, "What the hell is your problem?"

  The teacher looked up from his desk at hearing me, and he saw me grasping Derek's arm as Derek just looked at me in mild surprise. "Is there a problem, Miss Harmon?" the teacher asked sternly.

  I was just about to release Derek's arm when Derek added, "Yeah, Nikki. You're not gonna kill me or anything, are you?"

  My eyes narrowed and it took everything in my power to keep from punching him right in that smug, sarcastic mouth of his. "What, is asshole hereditary?" I asked him.

  "I don't know," he shot back, "is psychotic whore hereditary?"

  "Okay, that is quite enough," the teacher said, walking over to separate us.

  It was a good thing he did, too, because I was about one second from saying school be damned and punching Derek in the face.

  "Don't you ever insult my mother again," I said as the teacher came to stand between us.

  "Oh," Derek said, putting his hand to his heart, "no, I would never want to insult the memory of your dear, beloved mother. It's not like she killed mine or anything."

  "Okay, you two, go to the office," the math teacher said, not seeming to know what else to do with us.

  We both stared at him at that point, wondering if he really wanted us to walk out into the hallway together, knowing we might not both return in one piece.

  "Separately," he added, reading our thoughts. "Nicole, you go first."

  That wasn't fair! "But Mr.—!"

  "Go," he said firmly.

  I saw Derek smirk at me behind the teacher, but I merely glared at him, collected my things, and stormed out of the classroom.

  He didn't get any less hostile over the course of the school year, and even come junior year he would smirk at me when we passed each other in the halls. Honestly, I found it completely ridiculous that he had decided to hate me before he even met me.

  After all, I had lost a mother, too.

  Chapter One-

  It wasn't until junior year that I finally made a couple of friends.

  Naturally, since Derek hated me with a blinding passion he just had to be someone cool that everyone else looked up to. He acted like he didn't care about his popularity but there was no denying that he had it. Derek was unlike anyone I had ever met before, but after observing him in school—with his somewhat quiet demeanor, his brooding silences, the way girls would stop what they were doing to watch him walk by and sigh a little—I realized that it somehow seemed familiar to me.

  One night I was reading back in my mother's journals, as I did quite often, and I found the passage I was thinking about.

  It drives me crazy the way everyone respects Mike, looks up to him. For no reason! He doesn't even have to try, he's just somehow so cool that every girl thinks he's sexy, every guy looks up to him and wants to be like him. His very attention seems to be coveted, and everybody talks about Mike with the utmost respect, even when he isn't around.

  He was teasing me today, and like always, he playfully accused me of doing something dirty that I didn't do—I was just getting ice. Then he remarked, "Aw, I'll tell everybody. I'll be like, 'Yeah, you think she's so bookish and innocent, do you know what she did to me back there?'"

  I wasn't really irritated, because even though reminders that he still thinks of me that way are a bit painful, I'm still glad he does. Instead I simply smiled and replied, "You can't do that. I didn't do anything."

  "I know," he replied, giving me that smile with those twinkling blue eyes of his. "But if I tell them you did, they'll all believe me."

  And the worst part is, it's completely true. He could tell everyone, "Hey, we had sex in the break room," and I could deny it until my face turned blue, but they would still believe him over me. And it would be entirely my fault that he cheated on his girlfriend, because for some reason, Mike can do no wrong in anybody's eyes. He's invincible.

  Honestly, it's kind of annoying...

  I could sympathize with her plight; Derek seemed to be gifted with the same charismatic invincibility his father had. If Derek hated me, everyone else would follow suit.

  In the beginning of my junior year, however, I met a different kind of boy named Andy. He was a little taller than me with light brown hair and warm brown eye
s, but more importantly, he was an incredibly nice boy. Whether he didn't realize that I was supposed to be avoided like the plague, or he just didn't care, Andy sat next to me in several classes, and when we had to partner up in chemistry –partner projects being something I had always dreaded, since I always had to search for a partner longer than everyone else—he never even asked anyone else, just came over to me and asked me to be his partner.

  As the year passed, I did begin to notice that Andy liked me as more than a friend. When he finally got up the nerve to ask me out, I replied, "Are you sure?"

  I wasn't at all attracted to Andy. I was never romantically interested in him at all, even to the tiniest degree, and at first I couldn't imagine kissing him, because he was just so good and pure; I felt like I would soil him. Andy went to church every Wednesday and Sunday, he donated 10 percent of his paychecks to charity, he was close to his mother and father (they were still happily married), and he would actually do things like escort elderly ladies to the bank or the grocery store; one time I actually saw him help an old woman cross the street.

  He was perfect, but I felt nothing for him; I simply enjoyed having someone who didn't hate me, and it helped knowing that that person was safe.

  That was the main reason I liked dating Andy.

  My mother had taught me that passion was pain. I knew she couldn't see it, because she was blinded by her love for Mike, but as I read her journals over the years, I found it easy to spot her mistakes, and I promised myself I would never repeat them. Yes, my mother and Mike had passion, desire, those dark, appealing emotions everybody thinks they want, but I knew those feelings were like poison, seeping into every part of your life, slowly killing you as they did my mother.

  I knew I would never allow myself to want someone so much that it seeped into my very soul, that he became my obsession.

  So I dated Andy, and although I was surprised, I was kind of happy that he never even tried to kiss me through our whole junior year. He would touch me on the arm or affectionately around the waist, but whenever he would give me an affectionate squeeze, I would always recoil, remembering very clearly that my mother had said that was one of her favorite things Mike did to show his affection for her.

  Any hint of affection was unwelcome, although Andy didn't seem to realize this. But at least I knew he would never hurt me—he didn't have the ability to. He was convenient, and if he woke up one day and decided he didn't want to be with me, I would only be sad because I would no longer have a partner in chemistry or someone to sit with at lunch. Since I had lived my life as a loner, I knew I’d be fine.

  My only other friend was a pretty blonde girl named Stephanie Miller, who was friends with most of Derek's friends, so she would have been one of the last people whose friendship I might have hoped to gain.

  Circumstances threw us together when near the end of my junior year, Alex lost his job and while he looked for a new one, he asked me to find one too until he got settled into a new one. I applied everywhere in town except for Burger King, because I knew Mike had made it to assistant manager there, and I certainly couldn't work under him.

  Wendy's ended up calling me back, and coincidentally, Stephanie worked there. We started talking at work and occasionally hanging out afterwards, then she even started talking to me in school. Before long she became my best friend, and she considered me a good friend, although her best friend spot was reserved for some other girl named Kayla, also in Derek's little crowd (although if you asked him, he would completely deny having a "crowd" at all).

  That ended up being pretty much the best summer of my adolescent life. I had friends and I liked working because I liked bringing in money, and Alex ended up getting another job, so we had two incomes between us.

  Over the summer I tried to pick up more hours at Wendy's. Alex told me he would give me $100 toward getting myself a car, and I could save the rest. Personally, I had no use for a car since Andy took me everywhere, and if he couldn't I used Alex's car or walked. But I was reluctant to pass up money, so I asked if I could save the money for my post high school plans instead, whatever those turned out to be. Alex agreed, so I opened up a savings account.

  When the end of August rolled around, I wasn't excited to return to school. Going back to school for me just meant less money and more misery. At least I would be a senior, so I would never have to go back again.

  Shortly after school started, I ended up making the stupidest decision of my life.

  One day on the way to class Stephanie told me that her parents were going out of town, and she wanted to have a party since that's what you were supposed to do when your parents left you the house to yourself, but she didn't want the house to be trashed.

  "Aw, don't worry," I assured her. "We'll only invite a few of Hell's Angels, and we'll cut back to two kegs, so you know we'll be good to go."

  "Will you come?" Steph asked.

  "Of course I will, as long as you're not afraid I might scare off your other guests."

  She smiled. "If you would scare them off, I don't want them there anyway." But then she seemed to think of something, and she frowned a little. "Oh."

  "What?" I asked, glancing over at her.

  "Well... you know I would invite Kayla, of course..." she began.

  "Of course," I acknowledged, not quite seeing the problem.

  "Well, Kayla sort of just started seeing Derek, and I know she would expect me to invite him..."

  "Ah," I say with a nod, finally seeing the predicament.

  "Yeah," she said, watching me.

  "Well, we could probably manage to be in the same house for an hour or so. I don't know, honestly, he's the one you would have to ask, he's the one with the problem."

  "He may not even show," she reasoned. "He usually blows things like this off."

  "Especially once he finds out I'll be there," I added with a nod.

  Steph decided to have the party, and she told me I could invite Andy, but I knew before I asked him that he wouldn't be interested. There would be alcohol for sure, possibly even a little bit of weed, and Andy didn't go for parties like that. Honestly, he probably didn't even approve of me going, he just knew better than to say so.

  My own father was the one who agreed to get the alcohol for us as long as we gave him the money. He wasn't very parental in general, but since he had had started drinking much younger than we were, it didn't seem to bother him. In fact, he’d always found it a little strange—and I suspect he didn't actually believe me—when I claimed I had never had alcohol before. I hadn't, but Steph asked me while we were planning the party if I would have a couple drinks with her at the party since I was staying the night anyway. Since I had never tried it and it seemed safe enough, I agreed.

  The night of the party rolled around before we knew it. We were both excited as we set up bowls of chips, dips, cheese, crackers and other assorted snack foods. In an attempt to keep her house unbroken, we decided to put away anything valuable or breakable before anyone else got there, and Steph set up the guest room for me.

  Of course Derek Noble arrived with his friend rather than Kayla, and he decided to show up an hour late, because he was just that special.

  Kayla arrived on time, so as soon as Derek got there she went running over to his side, her white and silver strapless top flattering her fake-tanned skin and her dark brown hair, which fell straight down her back like a waterfall.

  I had to admit, as much as I disliked Derek—and didn't truly care much for Kayla either—they made a beautiful couple.

  By the time Derek got there I had already finished two drinks, so I was pretty happy with the world; even his presence didn't bother me. He seemed a little let down when he came over to sarcastically say, "Hi, Nikki," knowing that it annoyed me, and I simply smiled, held up my bottle and said pleasantly, "Hi, Derek. Enjoying the party?"

  He frowned at me, as if my pleasant attitude had ruined his mood, and murmured, "No, but I will be once I've had a drink."

  As the ni
ght passed by I had two more drinks, and by the time I finished those and whatever shot that last kid convinced me to try, I could barely stand up, let alone walk straight.

  Poor Andy called, but I didn't notice until I felt my phone vibrate later alerting me of a missed the call. He was definitely in bed by the time I got it, so I didn't bother calling back.

  The party started to wind down, and I told everyone with a giggle that I thought it was time for me to begin my dangerous trek up the stairs, but someone shoved a drink into my hand, telling me I hadn't finished it. I thought I had finished my last drink, but I took their word for it, taking the drink and not even realizing it was Derek who handed it to me.

  I might not have noticed anyway, because for the first time ever, he was being nice to me.

  When I finished that half empty bottle, I couldn't even make it over to the garbage can to throw the bottle away. I tried, but I fell, and luckily Derek was there to come to my rescue and pick me back up, throwing the bottle away for me and gently guiding me toward the stairs as I laughed at nothing.

  "Mm, you know, you're nice," I told him pleasantly, leaning against him so he would support some of my weight.

  "Oh yeah, I'm a regular boy scout," he responded, wrapping his arm around my waist.

  For some stupid reason, this made me giggle.

  “Watch your step,” he advised as we approached the top of the stair case.

  I thought it was awfully nice of him to walk me right to my door, and being a bold, outspoken drunk, I had no problem telling him so. I helped him find my guest bedroom, opened the door, and thanked him again for helping me up the stairs, but he just put his hand on the small of my back and prompted me to walk inside.

  "I think I can take it from here," I said with a little wink.

  The door closed behind him with a decisive click.

  After watching him lock the door, I simply flopped down on the bed and made some ridiculous remark about how limber I was when I was drunk. To demonstrate, I raised my leg up and put my foot behind my ear, then I giggled, dropping my foot, and just stared up at the ceiling, feeling absurdly happy for no apparent reason.