"You're welcome." His eyes locked on mine, and we gazed at each other for a few moments.
"Why would you do that for me?" I finally asked.
He continued to hold my hand with his right hand, but his left moved reflexively to the tattoo at the side of his neck. "Remember my tattoo?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Do you remember asking me what it meant?"
"Yeah. And you said it meant you were Irish." Derek gave me a lopsided grin. "But then you told me it actually meant you were lucky," I said.
Derek's grin waned slightly. "I am lucky."
"How so?"
He rubbed his tattoo. "My stepdad was a lot like your mom."
I laughed nervously and tried to pull my hand out of his. "Skinny and addicted to Facebook?"
The fingers of his hand tightened around mine, refusing to let me go. "No. Abusive."
I absorbed myself in the leaves on the ground. "She hasn't hit me in a long time. I mean, she almost did the other day, but mostly she just ignores me." I could practically feel Derek's gaze blistering a hole in my forehead, but I still couldn't look at him. "It doesn't bother me anymore."
I sniffed and tried to wipe my eyes with my shoulder, but it didn't work out so well. Derek let go of my hand and I swiped it across my face.
"She doesn't have to hit you to be abusive. I knew what was going on the minute I walked into your house tonight. I knew it because I've been there. I handled her the same way I learned to handle my stepdad when I was a kid."
"How's that?" I asked, my voice ragged.
"Treat the asshole like they're the most important person in the world. Make them feel like everything else in the universe is simply an irritation designed to get in the way of the only thing you want in your life. You know, them."
"It obviously worked. I can't believe you got her to make Monica clean up the dog pen."
"It was so easy, it was laughable. Of course, it helps that your mother was sober."
"She's not much of a drinker," I said.
Derek's eyes widened. "You're lucky. My stepdad was a mean drunk. Nothing I did worked when he was wasted."
Now I was the one who reached out to take his hands in mine. "I thought you were supposed to be the lucky one." I reached up to touch the tattoo on the left side of his neck with my right hand.
Derek stretched his neck so that my hand moved a little, almost like a cat looking to be stroked. "Remember I said I used to live near here when I was ten?"
I nodded, my eyes locked with his.
"We moved right after my stepdad died."
I sucked in my breath. "I'm sorry," I said softly.
"No, don't be. No one's laid a hand on me or my mom since the day he was buried."
"He hit you guys? But…your mom's a guidance counselor. How could she let that happen?"
Derek's mouth twisted up in a wry smile. "Yeah, she's great at telling other people how to live their lives. Unfortunately she's way more fucked up than anyone at our school. I love her, she's my mom, but she's got issues."
"She loves you though, right?"
Derek nodded. "Yeah, she does," he said quietly.
I tapped my neck, pretending to have a tattoo where Derek did. "Then you are lucky."
Derek smiled, but his face quickly grew serious again. "Yeah. I am. I'm lucky to be alive." He paused. "The day my stepdad died, I was supposed to be with him."
My mouth dropped open in surprise and my hand fell away from my neck. "What happened?"
A breeze tumbled the branches above us and it looked like the moonbeams were dancing inside our little haven. Derek shook his hair out of his eyes. "I was in Pee Wee football and it had started to snow, so practice got out early. My stepdad was picking me up but he was late. One of the other moms asked if I wanted a ride. I knew he'd probably kick my ass for it when he got home, but it was cold out." His eyes took on a distant look. "I don't know. Something just told me to take the ride, you know?"
I nodded but didn't say anything, and Derek continued. "My stepdad never came home. The cops say he slid on some ice, missed a corner, and wound up in the lake. My step-brother Tim was in the truck with him, but he doesn't remember anything. He doesn't even remember how he got out of the truck, he just 'woke up' on the side of the road, soaking wet. He flagged a car down and the cops came and, well, you know the rest."
I swallowed hard. "So do you think, like, God was watching out for you or something?"
"No," Derek said matter-of-factly, "I don't believe in God. I believe in my instincts. Ever since that day, if my brain tells me to do something, I don't second-guess it. I figure subliminally I must know something that my conscious mind can't see. Typically it results in what other people call luck. But I think I make my own luck."
I felt a smile curl across my face. "You didn't make me pull you into that janitor's closet with me. That was all me, and no offense, but I wasn't trying to get lucky. It was more of a panic-induced reaction."
"But I wouldn't have even known you if I hadn't followed my instincts the first day I met you. You know, I lied to you about my middle name. It's not really Ken."
I dropped my face into my hands, rubbed my eyes and slowly shook my head from side to side, before meeting his eyes again. "Oh yeah? Well guess what? My name's not really Barbie."
"I figured that out when your mother came to the door and didn't know who Barbie was. Is your name really Tawny?"
I let out an undignified burst of laughter. "God no."
"What is your real name?"
"I'm still working on that." I stared at the ground again. "My parents never got around to naming me. My actual real name, right now, is Baby Girl Anderson."
Derek reached out and gently tipped my chin up. "That's what you were talking about with Kaia on the bleachers the day I met you, isn't it? You have the exact same look on your face right now."
I nodded. "Yeah. I'd just found out the day before when I got my learner's permit."
He cupped my jaw gently in his hand. "That's why I came over, you know, and said my name was Ken. There was something about that look on your face. Until then, I figured you were just like Kaia."
"Hey," I jerked my head away from his fingertips. "Kaia's my best friend. And my cousin. If someone said I was like her, I'd take it as a compliment, not an insult."
Angry, I stood up and backed away towards the drooping branches. "I should go."
"No, wait." Derek scrambled to his feet. "That's not what I meant. Kaia's great. And she's beautiful. You look just like her, except hotter." He flashed his white teeth at me in a nervous grin. "But she drinks…a lot."
I folded my arms across my chest. His comment about my hotness had earned him a couple minutes reprieve, but I was still pissed about the Kaia remark. "I've never seen her drunk."
Derek's eyebrows shot up. "How long have you actually been hanging out with her?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Just this summer. Our families don't get along."
Derek looked thoughtful. "Well, maybe she quit drinking." He smiled. "I hope so. I meant what I said. She's great. Funny, fun to be around. But I lived with my stepdad's drinking for eight years. I'm not attracted to people who drink. I never will be. And that's what I thought when I first saw you. You looked so much like her, and you were funny like her, and I just kind of figured you drank like she did. But then I saw that look on your face, sitting up in the bleachers, and something told me you were different. Something told me I needed to know you."
He put his arms around me, and pulled me to him. It wasn't like the times he'd held me before, where we practically attacked each other. I felt…safe. My lips met his, and my body melted against his hard muscles. His arms circled me, but they didn't slide down to grab my ass like before, he just wrapped me like a cocoon. Our kiss grew longer and sweeter, before the hunger began to creep back in.
Derek was the one who finally pulled his mouth from mine, though he didn't let me out of his embrace. "God, you're amazing," he groaned
. "I need to take you home."
That was the last thing I expected him to say. "But we haven't charted the position of Orion yet," I said breathlessly. "What about the science project?"
Derek laughed. "Are you even taking science this quarter?"
I snuggled my head against the crook of his neck. "It was that or history. Sometimes you've gotta make the tough choices. But I don't want to go home yet. I want to stay here with you." I pulled my head back and my eyes bored into his. "All night if you want."
He shook his head. "No. It would be wrong."
"Why?" I asked.
"I kind of saved you tonight. I don't want you to think I did all that to take advantage of you."
"Things went a lot further than this in the wrestling room this afternoon and you didn't seem to mind it then."
Derek's body stiffened, and he groaned again. "You're killing me, do you understand? Killing. Me. I'm trying to be a gentleman here."
"Fine," I said, sticking my lower lip out in a mock pout. "I would've been okay though. I mean, I'm glad, really glad, that you were there when I got home tonight, but I didn't need saving. I would have survived."
He tilted his head back and looked at me appraisingly. "I'd still feel like an opportunist. How about tomorrow night, all bets are off?"
I stretched on my tiptoes and pecked him on the lips. "You got it."
He kissed me back, and put his finger lightly on my jaw line. "This was always my place, the place I went when shit was bad, when I couldn't deal. When I just needed to be left alone. But…it feels right, you being here. This is our place now, cool?"
I nodded and closed my eyes, not sure if I could trust myself to speak without a hitch in my voice.
Derek stroked my jaw and I opened my eyes. "You ever need me, this is where I'll be," he said. He swept back the curtain of branches and I stepped out into the full moonlight. It was so bright by comparison, it practically felt like daytime. Our fingers laced together, and we walked through the forest at a leisurely pace.
After a while, I was ready to break the comfortable silence. "Something you said was kind of funny to me," I said.
"What's that?"
"When I asked you if you thought God was watching out for you, you just came out and said you didn't believe in God. You didn't dance around it at all. Not very many people do that."
"Does it bother you?"
I shook my head. "No. You just surprised me, that's all."
"My family's not religious. My step-brother got really into church for a couple months after the accident, but Tim never sticks with anything for very long."
Our arms swung together, hands clasped. "What happened to him, after his dad died?" I asked.
"My mom never adopted him or anything, but she'd raised him since he was six. Tim didn't have any other family, at least none that would take him in, so he still lives with us. He graduated last year."
Oh God, no. I knew a guy named Tim…who had graduated last year. Tim Brewer. My legs kept moving, but it felt like they'd turned to wood. In the back of my mind I heard a woman's voice. 'Wait a minute Mottola, not so fast,' the counselor had said. Then Ted Lawson's voice filled my brain. 'You must be Lori Brewer's other kid.' Tim…Oh my god, Tim Brewer was Derek's step-brother. Tim Brewer—my sister Rachel's boyfriend.
Sweat broke out all over my body and I felt like my stomach was turning inside out. I snatched my hand out of Derek's and took off at a sprint. Fueled by adrenaline, there was no way Derek could keep up.
"Wait!" Derek called from somewhere behind me.
I didn't look back.
ELEVEN
I snuck into the house using the silent door method. I could hear my mom tapping on her keyboard in the kitchen area, but the living room was empty. I felt sick. I hoped Phoebe would be asleep when I entered our room, but clearly I didn't make my own luck the way Derek did. Phoebe was perched on the edge of her bed, leaning over and painting her toenails banana yellow. She looked up when I came in, her long hair hanging in blonde strings around her face.
"Mom's in love with your lab partner."
Great. Now I was really going to throw up. "Gross."
"Seriously, she wouldn't shut up about him. I finally had to come in here." She screwed the nail polish brush back into the bottle and fanned her toes a little with her hand. "He was pretty cute though. You think you might hang out with him some more?"
"Definitely not," I said. I lay down on my bed fully dressed in my cheerleading uniform. I had nothing to change into. I rolled onto my side to face the wall, but Phoebe didn't want to give up so easily.
"Is he the same age as you?"
"Yeah."
"So he can't drive yet, right?"
"Yeah." Why can't she just leave me alone?
"That's a bummer. He was really cute. Do you think he'll ever want to hang out with you again? I mean, not for a project?"
I pulled the thin cover over my head. "He won't be back, Phoebe." My voice was only slightly muffled through the fabric.
"Yeah, he didn't seem all that interested in you. I guess you're not really all that. I wouldn't be surprised if he showed up again though. We kind of had a connection."
I threw the covers off myself and sat bolt upright. "Jesus, Phoebe, you're twenty-three. That's disgusting. And probably illegal. Can you please not say anything like that, ever again? I already feel sick to my stomach."
Phoebe's eyes narrowed into tiny little slits. "Fuck you, Baby. I'll send you right back to Rachel's room so you can go back on window duty. Oh yeah." Her mouth pursed into a little button. "I know all about it."
I lay down on my side and faced the wall again, pulling the blanket back over my head. I tried to breathe evenly, but my body trembled. After a good ten minutes, Phoebe finally flicked off the light, because the room went dark. I heard her climb into her bed, the ancient springs squeaking and protesting, even though she wasn't very heavy.
"Fucking cunt," she whispered into the darkness, after the bed had finally quieted down. I didn't respond. Before too much longer, her breathing deepened and she began to snore lightly.
I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about Tim Brewer. How could Derek be related to him?
Derek had said that his step-brother never stuck with anything for very long. But he'd been with Rachel since the summer between my eighth and ninth grade years, so apparently some things lasted longer than others.
For Tim, it was the summer between his sophomore and junior years. It would have been for Rachel too, but she'd dropped out of tenth grade the previous October, literally the day she turned sixteen. She met him at the mall, where she spent most of her time. At first I hadn't paid any attention to them. Tim would show up around midnight, and Rachel would go out the window. Sometimes I'd wake up when Rachel came back in, she wasn't always careful about where she put her fake Uggs when she climbed over me. Most of the time though, I didn't notice when she returned.
Then one night in July, Rachel poked her head back in the window just a couple minutes after she'd left. "Hey," she said.
I'd been reading a book. I'd really gotten into it and I didn't want to put it down because I knew it would vanish the instant I took my eyes off it. But I looked up into her olive-skinned face. "Yeah?"
"Wanna come with me tonight?"
I looked around the room, as though she could have possibly been talking to anyone else. I probably looked pretty stupid. "Me?" I said, cementing the air of idiocy.
"Yeah you. Want to come with us?"
I didn't even think about it. I guess I was just shocked that one of my sisters wanted to hang out with me. I laid the book down—it was gone by morning—and followed her out the window.
Tim was waiting at the edge of our yard. His eyes lit up when he saw me. "Oh, good," he said to Rachel. "I was worried you were going to bring the fat ass."
I looked from him to Rachel. Rachel's eyes narrowed and she put her hands on her hips. "What do you care?"
Tim shrugged and cocke
d his head to the side a little, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "I don't. Rory's just gonna be glad to meet her, that's all."
I wasn't stupid, but I was naïve. "Who's Rory?" I said.
"My friend."
"You'll like him," Rachel said. "He's got a car."
Because owning a car automatically means you're going to have a stellar personality. The thing was, he did seem fun. And pretty cute.
I found out a few things about him on the drive up to the waterfront. He was seventeen and was going to be a senior. He was a wrestler, and a member of the nine hundred plus club, which he seemed really proud of.
"What's the nine hundred plus club?" I asked. I sat in the front seat while Rachel and Tim made out in the back. Rory put his hand on the gear shift, even though we were already in fifth, and from there his hand slid over to my leg, where it rested on the inside of my left knee. I looked at it, probably pretty strangely. I certainly felt strange. But for some reason I didn't try to move away.
"It means I can bench press, clean, and squat a combined total of more than nine hundred pounds," he said.
I looked at his wide shoulders and his muscled, ham-sized upper arms. I doubted he was lying. "That's cool."
"Only two other guys made nine hundred plus last year. I bet I make it to 1K senior year. If I stay on as a fifth year senior I'll definitely make it. I dunno if I'll do that though. They might not let me wrestle because of my grades. If they don't there's no point in staying in school."
"Other than maybe graduating," I said. He turned his head sharply and his nostrils flared, but when his eyes fixed somewhere in the vicinity of my collarbone, his expression relaxed and his hand inched up to mid-thigh. It was a hot night, one of the few really sweltering ones we'd get, and I was wearing shorts. Rachel had her perma-tan, of course, she stayed brown year round, but I'd actually put on some color as well in the last few days, and Rory's hand stood out whitely against my skin in the glow of the dashboard lights.
We talked about music and movies, and he talked a lot about wrestling. Unfortunately he didn't ask me anything about myself. We might have avoided a whole lot of trouble if he had.
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