The family we could have had, if they hadn’t both been so screwed up.
Growing up, I
realized that I had trouble making friends. I wasn't sure why at first because I didn't think I was a mean person, but for some reason people seemed to dislike me before they even met me. It wasn't until second grade when I overheard my name as I walked past the principal's office on the first day of school that I realized what the problem was.
"You cannot put Derek Noble in the same class as Nicole Harmon. Her mother killed his mother, Edward. You cannot expect those two children to sit in the same classroom. You have to change it," a teacher was saying.
Suddenly it made a little more sense why no one wanted to sit with me at lunch, or swing with me at recess.
I was the murderer's daughter, and nobody wanted to be associated with that.
Grades one through five were very lonely for me. All I ever did was homework, and when I was done with that, I would find what sanctuary I could in my room with a book, getting lost in someone else's life.
It wasn't until I turned 14 and moved in with Alex that I seemed to get another identity. Yes, I was still the mysterious Murderer's Daughter, but now that the kids were older they weren't afraid of me or my dead mother.
The kids in the trailer park weren't afraid of me, but I still didn’t make friends easily, and it was only boys that ever wanted to hang out with me. When the first one I had ever let in my room decided to try to shove his tongue down my throat, I immediately threw him out, locked my door, and went back to my books.
Of course, being an ass, the kid told all his little buddies that much more happened than what actually did, and they believed him. After that even if I would have wanted to, it wouldn't have been safe to hang out with the boys, because I had somehow developed a bad reputation in their corner of the world. I didn't care about their corner of the world, but still, an undeserved bad reputation was no picnic.
I fell off of everyone's radar until high school, somewhat intentionally, I have to admit.
By the time I reemerged as a freshman, nobody remembered what the stupid boys at the trailer park said, and anyone who had even looked at me funny after that got an icy glare that could have frozen the sun, so hopefully it would have had no merit even if they did.
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.