How the fuck did things come to this?

I found myself asking this question over and over again in my head. Had I really become that much of a burden to my mother that she had to ship me out to another state to go live with my brother?

Don't get me wrong, I loved my brother Logan dearly, but did he really need to deal with a clinically depressed teenager when he had problems of his own to handle?

My life before this use to be somewhat fulfilling. I lived in a shitty little border town in Texas, excited about starting my senior year of high school. I stood out because the good majority of the people of that town were tan due to their Mexican descent. Logan always told me that we were pale because of our dad's Scandinavian heritage. Can't say I knew him personally. He was a crab fisherman and his boat was tarnished during a really bad storm, washing everyone in that boat out to sea. I was only a few months old then, so it's not like I can say I was too shaken up by it.

My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on my bedroom door.

"Come in."

Logan peeked his head into my room, his shoulder length ebony hair was tied into a ponytail, signaling that he was almost ready for work.

"Hey Cole. You ready?"

I sighed and replied," As ready as I'll ever be."

The drive to school was long and silent. I just wasn't in a chit-chat kind of mood. I was pissed about having to start over in a new school in some Hick town in Colorado, a state I had yet to adjust to.

"It'll be fine, Cole. I'm sure you'll have a set group of friends by the end of the day. ," Logan said trying to break the silence.

My let a frustrated groan escape my throat and rested my head against the window, looking out to see the never changing scenery of snow and pine trees. I shivered. I hated the cold, but living so close to Mexico I had never really been exposed to snow. It's pretty much one extreme to another.

"Do you really think that, Logan?"

"Um, yeah. Sure do, kiddo. ," his tone said otherwise.

"Thank you brother dearest!"

"Don't be such a drama queen. I mean it. I'm gonna have to be beating the boys of you with sticks! Do you think this is a good excuse to buy a shotgun, now? ," he asked jokingly.

I cracked a smile and nudged him slightly.

I entered the main entrance of the foreign high school. The heating system was on, causing a shiver to run down my back due to the contrast of temperature. I unzipped my leather jacket, immediately feeling relief. My schedule said that my homeroom was in room 2622- Mr. Cook.

Great. Now to find it.

As I passed the endless number of students, I heard fragments of remarks made like "Who picked out her wardrobe, Beavis and Butt-head?" or "Who let Elvira in?"

I looked down at my attire. Megadeth t-shirt under a black motorcycle jacket, dark skinny jeans tucked into black combat boots.

I can see how I stood out just a bit.

"If you need help getting by, you can come to us."

I glanced up from my boots to see a group of Goth kids standing before me. They reeked of cigarettes and coffee roast.

"Excuse me? ," I asked.

"These narrow-minded dipshits won't accept you. You can always hangout with us if you need a clique to fall into. You kinda fit the part, except for the shirt. Megadeth is pretty lame. ," the skinny long haired male, I'm guessing their leader, said.

I balled my fists up and took in a deep breath.

"I'd rather be lonely than have to take that kinda shit from a bunch of suedo-Goth kids. Nobody fucking disses Megadeth like that to my face!"

I stormed off. How the fuck could they mistake me for one of them. I don't even wear that much eyeliner!

I managed to push my way through a crowd of Malibu Barbie clones. They looked down on me, probably because I wasn't as tall, blonde, or well endowed as they were. How the hell did they even get so orange anyways?

"Look girls, I think she might actually be an A-Cup. Last time I saw that, we were in the 4th grade. ," their leader sneered. There was always that one blonde bimbo that was just a tad bit smarter than the rest of the girls in her group.

"Check your eyes, doll, they're a B, as in bitch, as in you. ," I snapped.

"Bet you're so clever you came up with that all on your own, you little cunt!," she sneered, inching closer to me.

"Actually, you're giving me way too much leeway to keep 'em coming."

"If you're as smart as you think you are, new girl, you should probably know at this point that we're more than likely gonna make the rest of your stay at SPH a very unpleasant experience.," one of the lackees stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

"As much as I enjoy a good catfight, I can't help but call out a few snarky bitches when I see them."

I looked to my side and there stood, I guess you can say my savior at the moment.

He towered a good foot over me, I would say probably 6 feet flat,a good 10 inches more than tiny ol' me. He had unruly blonde hair, and was dressed somewhat like Kurt Cobain in what looked like a hand-me-down flannel shirt, and holey jeans.

"Don't tell on us, Kenny. ," their leader said coyly.

"I wouldn't bother wasting my time. After all, this high school runs clockwork because of you all. Keep up the good fucking work. ," he said sarcastically placing his hand on my back and leading me away from the group of the Paris Hilton carbon copies.

"First day and you already found trouble," the boy, I assumed to be Kenny, said jokingly.

"Trouble found me."

"Well, lucky for you, I'll be around to make sure it doesn't find you again. I'm Kenny McCormick."

He paused, holding out his hand for me to shake. As I returned the gesture, I took a good look at his face. He had a shocking pair of cerulean eyes I had ever seen…ever!

"I'm Nicole Ivarrson. Cole for short."

"Having trouble finding your homeroom?," he asked.

"Yeah, would you happen to know a Mr. Cook?"

The corners of his mouth contorted into a grin.

"Yes ma'am. He's my homeroom teacher."

Upon hearing this news, I could honestly say, this was the best thing I probably heard all morning.

"Great! So you wouldn't mind escorting me?"

"Not at all, it would actually be a privilege."

He led the way, and I followed closely at my rescuer's side.

"So, just giving you a heads up, Mr. Cook might come off to you a tad bit alarming?"

"Why's that, Mr. McCormick?"

And there was that grin again. I think he enjoyed me addressing him by that.

"Oh you'll see. You can sit next to me and we'll pass notes and do all that BFF crap. ," he joked.

"Oh goody! Can we even get those heart necklaces also that split in half?" I beamed up at him.

"Fuck that! We're classy, we'll get lockets instead."

I liked this kid. Can't say I had met many of my fellow peers at this point, but after those run-ins with the Goth kids and the Clone Troopers, Kenny seemed like a fucking blessing!

Not to mention that he was pretty easy on the eyes.

"And here comes the moment of truth. ," he said as we came to a halt outside our classroom.

I opened at door and I was given the first few words to associate with my new teacher.

"Nice of you to show up, Kenny, you fucking douchebag!"

"Hey Dane!" Kenny waved back with fake enthusiasm.

Holy cow!

"Dane Cook is our homeroom teacher?"

"I know, I'd be scared too.," Kenny chuckled.

"Shut the fuck up, McCormick and go take your seat behind your butt buddy, Stan," Dane retorted.

"Shut the fuck up, Dane!," A boy with shoulder length jet black hair exclaimed from his seat.

Kenny gave me a sly wink and took his seat behind the boy that just had the outburst.

"Ok, so you're the new girl, Nicole, right?," Dane asked eyeing me up and down, failing to be the slightest bit discreet.

"Sure, let's go with that. ," I replied.

"You 18 yet?"

"No."

"Take a seat next to McCormick.," he dismissed me and went back to reading Hustler.

I never liked his stand-up anyways!

I walked over and plopped down in the empty desk next to Kenny's.

"Explain.," I demanded turning my head to him.

Stan turned around to face us, something telling me that he would beat Kenny into bad mouthing Dane Cook.

"His career as a comedian and an actor failed so bad, the only job he could get was as an English teacher in bum-fuck South Park.," Stan said enthusiastically.

"Pretty much what he said.," Kenny smiled.

So I hit it off pretty well with Kenny and Stan. Apparently they've been friends since they were wee lads. They brought up 2 of their other friends, Kyle and Cartman. They gave me a heads up; I would get along great with Kyle and fucking hate Cartman upon first meeting him.

Lovely.

"So where are you from, Cole? Not very fair that Stan and I practically spilled to you our life's story, but we know nothing about you yet. ," Kenny said.

Well, I might to omit a few things.

"I'm from a border town in Texas. My mom is Hispanic, my dad was Swedish and Finnish. I moved in with my older brother, Logan. He works at an office supply company, but he's also a musician. He's a pretty sick bassist, and his band plays the occasional gig every now and then. We have a puppy named Han, my lucky number is 13, my favorite color is any shade of blue, and I like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain."

"You're so mysterious. I dig that in girls. ," Kenny winked.

"It's not so appealing once you get to know me."

"I'd like to get to know you. ," he replied sincerely.

I don't think anyone ever told me that before. It shocked me a bit, but not in a bad way. Kenny came off as a smooth talker at times, but there was something he eyes said that his words couldn't. They looked like the eyes of a person that dealt with a lot of demons. Eyes like mine.

"I'd like to get to know you too, Kenny."

I managed to find my way to my other classes fine. It would have been cool if I had the option of taking an elective like all the other kids, but I had to go to these group therapy sessions in the counselor's office instead.

Did I fail to mention that I'm not normal?

The guidance counselor was a man with a huge head compared to his slim body, and had thinning hair.

"Oh you must be Nicole. I'm Mr. Mackey, and I'm the head counselor here, m'kay. From what I understand, you've been suffering from extreme night terrors for about-"

"12 years now.," I cut him off.

"And these therapy sessions are a way for you to vent to others who are in the same boat as you're in, m'kay. There are 4 other kids in the group, and we don't judge here, m'kay. We want to help you make progress, m'kay."

When we entered the therapy room, I almost ran back out. There in one of the seats that consisted of the therapy group was Kenny. He glanced up at me, taken back at first, but gave me a reassuring smile.

Like a prisoner walking towards death row, I made my way over towards the chair besides Kenny's. Like earlier when he was defending me from the blondes, he placed a hand my back.

I just made friends with him, I wasn't sure if I wanted him to know about my dirty laundry just yet.

"Alright kids, how about we go one by one and talk about anything you feel like you needa get off your chest, m'kay. How about we start with Stu and move our way on to Nicole for last."

Stu then proceeded how he had been having these reoccurring dreams that he was Tinkerbell and it was really starting to worry him. His parents went as far as to almost buy out a CVS to just get a hold of something to suppress his dreams.

Kenny rolled his eyes. I could tell that whatever Stu was dealing with, didn't even come close to what Kenny must have been dealing with.

So that's what happened. We listened to everyone's progress or lack of it. Finally, it came down to Kenny. He sighed and looked over towards me, almost sad that he had to share this with me.

"I had another episode again. This time I got shot in the chest with a double barrel shotgun. Everything felt so real, like it always does. I was trying to stop this cocksucker from stealing this lady's purse. He shot me at point blank and the last thing I remember seeing before walking towards the light was that the cops cuffed him and stuffed him in the back of the squad car. When I tuned into the local news this morning, the same woman was on thanking the boy that gave his life to help her. They said he was unidentified. It never gets better. I die, I go to heaven, hell, or purgatory for a bit, but always wake up in my bed safe and sound, and no one ever remembers me dying."

My heart was shattering at this moment. I had to speak up.

"You're not alone. I've experienced my death more than I can count throughout the years. I've never found an answer for it."

"M'kay, Nicole would you mind discussing this further in depth with the group?"

I looked at Kenny one last time, and nodded in response to Mackey's question.

"Ever since I was a little kid, I died almost every other day of my life or at least I dream up my death according to my mom. Throughout the years, it's gotten a little less frequent. One time I got pneumonia three times in a row. It was pretty painful. I remember following this beam of light, kinda like in Star Trek, and being in this forest with bright fruit growing on all the trees. I think I've met God on several occasions. One time God was a hedgehog, another time he was George Clooney. We would usually shoot the shit for awhile, then he'd say it was time for me to wake up and I would be in my bed at home again."

Everyone looked at me like I was some sort of freak. Even Mackey!

The only person that seemed didn't give me a scrutinizing look was Kenny. He just listened while occasionally running his hand through his messy golden mane.

"I met Satan a few times also. He told me I didn't belong there, but was nice to give me a tour of all nine levels of Hell. Sometimes I would just end up in a big open field. It would never end. Can't say that I hated that place, can't say I really liked it. Mom tried to help me, but after awhile, I just became a huge liability to her. She'd wake up to me screaming in my room after I had just woken up. She'd usually work 12 hour shifts , and just couldn't handle the sleepless nights anymore."

Just then the bell for lunch rang, and Mr. Mackey was the first one up.

"M'kay, good first day, Nicole. I see that you have potential to overcome this problem, m'kay. See you all tomorrow."

"He said the exact same thing to me after my first session. Can't say that I've made much process. ," Kenny whispered to me once we were outside of the office.

"I stop trying to figure it out. Sure it's a horrible feeling knowing that I can't die, but I can't stop the inevitable. ," I said playing around with my mid-neck length raven colored hair.

He stopped and pulled me over to a narrow corner.

"I hated it so much. Having to deal with death, and have none of my friends or family even remember what happened to me. That's why I need to ask if you can do me a favor?"

"Sure, what's up, Kenny?"

"If I die and tell you that I did, will you try to remember or at least try to believe me that it happened?"

I searched his eyes. I found a connection with them, and for once, I wasn't alone. All the pain, fear, and anger that I felt, Kenny felt as well. I wasn't alone anymore.

"Only if you do the same for me. ," I answered beaming up at him.

His lips formed a smile, and he reached in and hugged me. I smiled, because I made a friend under the weirdest circumstances, but he was a friend none the less. Someone that could finally understand what had been ailing me for the good majority of my existence.

"I got an idea!"

He slung his backpack off his shoulders and reached into it, pulling out a notepad and a pen. He proceeded to scribbling down something, tearing it out, and pressing the piece of paper into the palm of my hand.

"It's my address and cell number. Give me yours. In case one of us dies before the other, we know where to get a hold of each other. ," he said.

I scribbled down my address in his notebook. He looked down at it and back up at me.

"You live in the same subdivision as Stan. That's pretty sweet, I live a few blocks away from there so we're all relatively close. Even Kyle and Cartman live pretty close to us too."

I smiled. I had to. I wasn't expecting my first day here to turn out this great. I already made 2 friends who were also my neighbors. That's 2 more than what I had before!

"Kenny, where have you been all my life?," I exclaimed and gave him a quick hug.

He held me away from him at arm's length, probably mirroring the same smile I had on.

"Right here waiting for you, Cole."