Broken

CH.1

         I was a complete pushover. A people-pleaser with the inability to say no. My whole life was surrounded by others needs and wants. It was sort of weird, seeing as how I was seventeen years old teenager and had no selfish bone in my body. Okay, is that ironic in some warped way? I couldn't stand it anymore, the way I had spent most of my adolescence appeasing my parents and friends. The idea of saying yes to one more thing was going to make me go insane. One more, someone ask me one more favor and I was going to go Rambo on their ass.



         “Derek, your going to wear your tan suit with the blue tie, yes? I went through all the trouble to iron it last night.” My mother's shrewd voice rang through the halls into my room the moment I had opened it.



         Hands ruffled through my bed hair as I furrowed my brows, trying to ignore her request. With the instinct to lay the Rambo on her, the flame steadily died as I realized I couldn't bare denying my mother her request. Did I even earn the right to balls sometimes? I loathed that tan suit – it made me look like a car sales men. Rolling my eyes, I moaned as her lithe frame came into focus.



         “Derek? Did you hear me?”



         “Mom, yeah. I got it. Tan suit, blue tie.”



         “Good. And hurry, we've got twenty minutes before heading to the chapel.” She gleamed, pivoted, and headed back into the kitchen that was a good distance from my bedroom.



         Sunday mornings were the worse. The fact that I didn't earn the right to sleep-in two days out of the week was infuriating. Why did I need to wake up so early when half the teens in America got to sleep till noon? Church was a nuisance, and so was the fact that I've had to attend every Sunday, Wednesday afternoon and some holidays there. Waste of my time, and my energy.



         Dear God, you'll be fine with the fact that once I move out I'm never attending church ever again, right? He wouldn't mind. I devoted enough time.



         I rolled out of my bed after dazing at my clock on the window seal. 7:00. Shoot me. A look of disgust targeted my tan suit as I began to slip it on. Adjusting it against my built frame, I shifted in front of the mirror to get a good look. I was handsome, or so the majority of people would say. I couldn't see it, nor did I ever devote my time to the upkeep of my appearance. Picking up my brush, I hastily combed through the short strands enough to wear they laid flat on my head. A dab of cologne slapped under my jawline as I added the finishing touch to my getting ready and then I headed into the kitchen where my mom was.



         Smelt like waffles, which perked up my agitated mood. The only perk to Sunday mornings were my mom's amazing strawberry drizzled waffles. Licking my lips as she placed the plate in front of me. I grabbed for the fork and started to dig in before she stopped me with a loud disapproving huff. Clenching my eyes closed, I sighed and then peered up at her.



         “Where are your manners? Pray. To think you haven't built that into your noggin by now.” Her arms crossed in disapproval as she waited for me to bow my head.



         This woman's going to kill me. “Amen.” A quick fake prayer, as I gave my mom a smile before finally cutting a piece of the waffle and ate it.



         “Your dad said he'd meet us there. I swear that man...” Not finishing her thought, she wandered out of the kitchen.



         My dad. My dad that didn't live with us anymore. My dad who after fifteen years of marriage, decided that it would be okay to all of a sudden have an affair with no consequences. He did a shitty job of hiding it also. Didn't take much investigative skills when the woman would call the home phone, leave messages and show up unannounced. Idiot.



         At least my mother had enough sense to kick the stupid bastard out. It was either she did that, or I would have killed him myself. My mother was simple, caring, and had all the makings of a perfect wife. Why he wanted something more, I couldn't see. But then again, she was my mother, and I loved her so of course I sided with her. Did I love him? Once upon a time.



         I hated the fact that he found enough courage to show up at church with us. See, my mother had a reputation to uphold. So although they hadn't finalized the divorce yet, and he didn't live with us, they still had to keep up the appearance that they were a loving wholesome couple. Me on the other hand, wasn't the greatest actor when it came to me showing people I still gave a damn about him. But, for my mom, I tolerated it. To live in a town of only about five thousand, the worst thing that could happen to my mom was a tarnished status and rumors galore. She had a fragile enough heart as it was.



         Church was buzzing as usual. Mostly everyone in town wouldn't dare miss a seminar with good ol' Pastor Johnson. The man was sixty years old and had the voice of nails on a chalkboard. No, I wasn't exaggerating. Every time he talked I had to try my hardest to block it out and think about something else.



          My dad stood next to me, as we took our usual spot in the fourth row. He knew I was an angry guy, and usually didn't say much to me except a hello every now and then. Hands by my side soon curled into furious fists as nails dug into my skin. I couldn't even tolerate being around him. Soon enough though I got the excuse to leave when someone tapped my shoulder. Turning, my eyes rested on a familiar beautiful face.



         “Come sit by me and my family today. Your parents won't mind, right?” A sweet angelic voice poured from Jenna Hillsong, the girl I had been with and loved for about a year now.



         Her long brunette tresses were curled today, and she wore an amazing Sunday dress, which suited the occasion. Blue eyes stung me every time they manged my way, and I couldn't say no to anything she proposed. Remember? People-pleaser.



         “Uh yeah, of course.” I replied sheepishly. A look to my mom, who shook her head yes, and I followed after Jenna. The Hillsongs smiled as they saw me and greeted me once I sat down alongside Jenna.



          “How was your Saturday?” She curiously asked as she picked up our Church's song book.



         “It was okay. I mostly just sat at home, watched TV.” A shrug.



         “That sounds boring. You should have called me, we could have hung out.” Brows rose as she swiveled her gaze to mine.



         “Yeah. Sorry. I will next time. Just thought you'd be too busy.” Which was true, she was always so busy. The girl seriously never had a chance to just relax.



         “Well I wasn't. Are you ready for school tomorrow? I can't believe we're going to be Seniors.” Excitement filled her tone as she laid a hand on mine.



         Oh yeah. School was starting tomorrow. Summer had flown by so fast. Too fast for my taste. No wonder today had started out so roughly – my body knew it was the beginning of hell. I shared the same sentiment for school as I did church. I couldn't wait for it to be over.



         “School's school. I'd rather not go back at all.” I said in an honest manner.



         “Don't be such a downer. I still have so much to do before we have our first student council meeting.” She looked as if she was articulating some sort of plans in her head at that very moment.



         “How? How can you have so much to do when you've been President for the last three years, Jenna?” Bewildered as everyone stood up the moment Pastor Johnson took the podium.



         “Shh. Its a big responsibility. You have no right to ask me that, have you ever been President? No. So don't even start.” She moved her hand away from mine.



         Oh god, I had hit a nerve. Usually when I went out of line, it left us in bad terms for the day. Jenna was a bit too serious when it came to her extra-curricular activities. All the time she had devoted to polish that resume and application for the universities was one of her most important priorities. Sometimes I felt it was a bigger priority than I was. I didn't like the idea of coming second to someone. Especially if we were exclusive. But then again, Jenna was always the overachiever. And I just had to deal with it.



         “You look pretty today.” Trying to gain back some gravy points, with a small plea in my voice.



         “Whatever.”



         “Jenna. Don't be mad.” I hissed at her. “I didn't even mean that in a mean way.”



         “Yes you did. You always get pissy when I talk about stuff that I do.” She harshly whispered back.



         “Okay, I'm sorry.” I'd give up easily, I was used too it. She was too important to me to not give in and let her have her way.



         “It's fine. I forgive you.” Her mouth crept a smile as her hand linked with mine.



         Church lasted too long – almost felt like a life time. But soon enough it had ended and I was way too relieved. Jenna and I decided to meet up after getting home and having lunch at the local diner on main street. Before we left, she gave a peck on my cheek and a small hug. Our “PDA” was always minimal because of her. I wouldn't call her uptight, but the fact that the only thing we've done is make-out once, and a boob grab (which didn't go over smoothly) in a year was making me go insane. The girl was gorgeous, and I couldn't help it if I wanted to be intimate. Did I mention it was a year already? She seriously had to give me something. Still. I never bugged her, never once brought it up. I figured she'd let me when she allowed it. And I would make her think I was absolutely okay with it. Mom always told me the best way to a woman's heart is respect. Or something.



         I met Jenna at Dillon's Family Restaurant, the popular place for most of the kids our age to hang out. She was sitting at a corner booth all by herself, menu in hand as she flipped through her cell phone. Most of the old men at the diner's bar kept glancing at her and made suggestive comments to themselves. Dirty assholes. Jealousy raged as I walked over to the booth and slid in across from her.



         “You know those scumbags are staring at you and saying stuff right?” The anger rose in my voice as my eyes wandered back at them.



         “So? They're harmless. You really think they're going to hurt me in broad daylight? Let them have their fun.” A reasonable response as she slipped me another smile.



         “You're right.” I agreed. Which she always was. Or wanted to be. God damn, it was annoying. I picked a menu, but already knew was I was going to get. “What're you going to get?”



         “Hmmmm.” Her blue eyes squinted at a few of the items, as if the process of finding something to eat was almost difficult to do. But then she perked right up, menu slid from her fingers to the table. “ A salad, probably.” The only thing she ordered every time she came here.



         “What a surprise.” I jested, eyes starting to wander to the others occupying the place



         I knew most of them, the families, their kids, and some of the teen groups. But on the other end of the restaurant, up by the cash register, I was unfamiliar with one individual. A girl, young, looked about my age, tall, straight dirty blonde hair that was longer than Jenna's. Olive skin, dressed in basic clothing, not like most girls wore with their trendy brands. Black converse, jean-tight capri's, white tee with a light blue hoodie over it. Although I was seeing her from profile, I could already feel my heart racing.



         “Derek?” I could hear Jenna's voice, but everything seemed like it was in slow motion as the girl began to turn towards me. It was weird that just in those small moments you notice every single detail of a person. Her face was flawless, and it didn't hurt that her eyes were the most exotic green I had ever seen and were looking right at me. My whole body shivered, and I seriously needed to catch my breath. Were there even such a thing as a perfect woman? And even more prettier than models, and those actresses in the magazines?



         Her gaze felt like it was forever on me, but her face was stern and rigid, not soft like it had been a moment ago when she was talking to the waitress taking her cash. The look she gave me was as if I was the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. Eyes glared, brows rose as her head tilted up a bit, snooty and smug. Then she had turned, and soon exited Dillon's. Was I seriously just bitch-faced by a girl I didn't even know? What the hell was her problem? Who the hell was she?



         “Derek. Are you listening?” Jenna's voice snapped me into reality as a finger rattled against the table.



         Eyes instantly turned to her. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” But my head was still reeling with the image of the girl. “Who was that?” Wondering if Jenna had just witnessed the same thing.



         “Oh. Must be the new girl who moved into Mr. Right's old place over on Gerald street. I guess Tara tried to befriend her, and the girl totally told her to.. you know.. go “f” herself.” Jenna was horrified with the prospect of someone saying fuck aloud to another human being.



         I tried to look out the window to get another glimpse, but she had vanished.



         “Are you ready to order, or what?”