Chapter Six

The Friends

After Chloe combusted during their last training session, Derek avoided her like the plague. Instead of running with her, he holed up in his room. Simon liked to bother him, though, so he started avoiding the house too. He'd would sit in random parks, earbuds in, and just watch the sun climb higher and higher.

"Derek?" a voice asked.

He opened his eyes to find a redheaded girl with neon dreadlocks leaning over him. She didn't look familiar at all, so he figured she wasn't talking to him, but when he closed his eyes again, a tiny hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

"What the hell do you want?" he snapped, sitting up as the hand left his shoulder and his earbuds were ripped out.

"Where's Chloe?" the redhead demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

That made him sit up. "Who's asking?" he spat, eyeballing the girl.

She was short and muscular, with brown skin and dark freckles. Her hair was an obnoxious shade of red that undoubtedly came from a box, and her braids, neon purples, blues, greens, yellows and oranges, drew his attention away from her face, which was flushed with what he thought was sunburn or anger.

"Kari! Now, you giant asshole, tell me what you did with Chloe! Or…or…" She was right in his face, and he could see she had glitter on her face.

"I didn't do anything to her," he hissed flatly, feeling his face heat up at the implications. "She's at her house. Now fucking leave me alone." Ignoring the smug expression on her face, he took his earbuds from her, tucked them back in, and headed out of the park.

"Dude, you're Derek Souza, aren't you?" she yelled after him, making heads turn in his direction.

He waved her off over his shoulder and walked out of the entrance. Busy with his phone, eyes on the screen, he navigated down the street without once looking up. He really should've because he didn't see the girl headed straight for him until they crashed into each other. His phone went flying out of his hand and landed somewhere behind him; his earbuds were ripped out of his ears, lying tangled around his neck.

"What were the fuck you're going!" he spat, getting to his feet without offering the girl a hand up. Instead, like the complete ass he was, he pushed himself to his feet, brushed the concrete dust off his jeans and the back of his t-shirt, and scooped his phone up. "Jesus Christ, what are you? Blind?" He had to take some deep breathes so he wouldn't combust.

"Um, actually, yes," she said, and his head snapped up. She looked about his age, maybe older, with big, milky eyes and long dark hair that spilled around her shoulders and framed her round face. In her hand was a walking stick.

He really felt like an ass and offered her his hand instead of apologizing. Despite his attitude with Chloe, where his rough treatment would toughen her up, he still had manners. She took his head. It was so easy to lift her up, despite outweighing him by fifty pounds, and she struggled to get her balance. Knowing she couldn't see the nervous tic that gave him away, he ran both hands through his hair.

She laughed, an easy, quiet sound that he almost missed. "You won't believe how many people say things like that."

"It wasn't like I meant to," he said, bending down and picking up a pair of sunglasses. "Here."

She held out her hand expectantly and curled her fingers around the glasses the minute they touched her palm. "Thanks." Tucking her hair behind her ears, she gave him a wry smile. "You really should work on your temper. Being so angry only leads to a fulfilled promise of pain."

He ground his teeth into dust. Time and time again, he'd been to control his temper. That he couldn't go around snapping at people like a grumpy toddler. Forbidden memories crawled up from the blackest parts of his memory, the feeling of his knuckles splitting apart, the cold metal of the butt of a gun hitting his temple, hot blood running into his eyes.

"Hey! Miranda!" a shrill voice screamed right beside him and he watched in amazement as Kari threw herself at the dark-haired blind girl, and she caught the redhead seamlessly.

Kari looked up at Derek then. "Oh, you've meet Derek?" she said, wrapping both arms around the blind girl's neck, hanging off it like a monkey. "He's a total asshat, isn't he?"

Miranda tapped Derek's sneaker, up his knee, and the cold rubber end pressed against his skin uncomfortably. Once the stick was pressed against him, she stepped closer and closer until she was right in his face and lifted her hands up. "Maybe not," she murmured as she pressed her thumbs against his cheeks.

He twitched away, frowning at her. "Don't fucking touch me."

She just stared at him with those huge eyes, her milky irises watching him.

He turned and walked away as fast as he could without breaking into a sprint. He could hear Kari's high-pitched voice speaking rapid-fire to Miranda. Once he got to the crosswalk, the numbers counting down from thirteen, he glanced back to find Miranda's eyes still on him, even as Kari tugged at her arm and stomped her feet like a little kid.

Derek put his head down, plugged in his earbuds, and ran across the white lines with the sign dropping into single-digits. He ran, despite wearing jeans and a t-shirt, people giving him weird looks, but he didn't stop until he was in his neighborhood. Outside the mouth of his street, he just stood there, catching his breath and inhaling the aroma of someone's grill. Sweat poured down his face, dampened his shirt, and he wiped his forehead with the collar of his t-shirt.

"Yo, bro!" The screen door banged as Simon came running out, wearing only a pair of neon orange shorts. "Dad's been looking everywhere for you. Go for a run?" he asked once he noticed the sweat on Derek's skin.

"Something like that," Derek muttered as he brushed passed Simon.

"Dude, you reek!" the blond complained.