by E. M. Moore
Before I know it, we’re walking side-by-side on the way to school. Actually, he’s even dropped back a few steps to the same position he was in before I stopped to tie my shoes. I clench my jaw. He must be playing at something. He must be paying just as much attention to me as I am to him, or how would we have ended up there again?
Worry seeps into me. Kids from the Heights are cutthroat. This could be about anything. Brawler could be setting me up. Sure, he didn’t seem all that bad yesterday when he delivered his mother’s terrible fucking cookies to my apartment, but that was outside of school, outside the crew. Family shit doesn’t have anything to do with gangs. They’re two separate entities. A gang banger could do a drive-by and then go home to his kids, reading to them before bed. Does that make him less of a killer?
No.
“Your neck’s all red,” a gruff voice remarks.
The tenor makes my joints lock up. “I’m hot,” I lie. It spews from my mouth on its own accord. I sigh, wanting to take it back. Right now, I’m supposed to be scared Kyla. I should’ve told Brawler the second day at Rawley Heights doesn’t sound appealing to me, but instead, my real personality came out.
He casts me a sideways glance but looks straight ahead again. With the look on his face, I would think he’d be going back to ignoring me, but that’s not the case at all. Brawler’s like a silent killer. Unless he’s in full-on fight mode, of course. When he’s out of the ring, he’s more like me. He’s aware of his situation. He doesn’t boast or talk just to hear the shit that comes out of his mouth. People know he’s a threat because of his past actions, not because of the threats that pour out of his mouth over every little thing. It’s people like Brawler you need to watch out for.
Brawler walks just behind me until we get to the metal detectors in front of the school. There’s a back up this morning, and I realize I’ve gotten here a little later than I wanted. I might not have enough time to switch my lock out before first period.
When it’s my turn, I drop my bag on the table. It thunks, and the security guard raises his eyebrows at me. “What the fuck are you packing?”
I don’t answer, preferring to let him look through my bag himself.
He smirks as he pulls out the head of the bolt cutters. He shakes his head while turning his gaze to me. “No weapons in school.”
“It’s not a weapon. It’s to cut off the broken lock on my locker.”
He makes a humorless noise in the back of his throat, clearly telling me he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. Without uttering another word, he pulls the bolt cutters out and starts to chuck them in the trashcan next to him.
I stare him down. There’s no way I thought they’d give me trouble for these. It’s not like I’m packing a knife or a crude shiv. “Look,” I say. “It’s not a weapon.”
“Sorry, Princess.” The guard winks at me.
My hands turn to fists. I glare at him as he moves the bolt cutters over the trash. He looks to Brawler with a smirk, like he should get extra points for this, but instead, his lips thin. My body tenses as the large expanse of Brawler’s chest crowds me. “Those are fine,” he says.
The guard looks from the bolt cutters to Brawler again. “You trust this chick with these? I heard she gave Nevaeh a hard time.”
“Nevaeh shouldn’t start fights if she’s worried about someone stopping them.”
The guard shrugs like he could give a fuck and places the cutters back in my bag slowly, deliberately, like he’s doing what Brawler told him to do, but he’s not very happy about it. When he’s done, I snatch my bag out of his hands and walk away. My skin’s flushed. My mind is whirring. Why would Brawler follow me to school and then vouch for me over the bolt cutters? He has no idea what I’m going to do with these, and now that I think about it, hitting Nevaeh upside the head with these is a really good fucking idea. It would teach her not to attack from behind.
Footsteps thud behind me. They stay there until I get to my locker and stop when I stop. I spin on my heel, facing Brawler. I’m about to open my mouth to tell him to back off, but he’s already ripped and roaring to go, effectively shutting me up. “The Heights isn’t like wherever you came from.”
“Shit, really?” I feign surprise. “My bad.”
When I cross my arms, his jaw ticks. He reaches out, snatching my bag off my shoulder and unzips the main pocket. He pulls out the cutters, makes quick work of the broken lock on my locker, and turns to leave before the broken lock can even hit the floor.
“Hey, those are mine,” I shout after him.
I don’t expect a response, and I don’t get one either. A girl walking by kicks my book bag down the hall. She crows in laughter when I hurry to retrieve it, grabbing it just as the bell rings.
“Shit,” I grumble, hurrying back to my locker and fishing through my bag to put the new lock on it.
I just slide it through the hole when a voice behind me says, “Second day, Princess.” I look over my shoulder to find the asshole who coined the nickname for me. I still owe him a nut shot for that and for manhandling me. Oscar’s next to him though, his dark eyes boring holes into me. His friend asks him, “You still stand by your assessment, Drego?”
I watch Oscar carefully as he answers. He’s the loud one. He’s the one who talks fear into people. I’m not saying he can’t back it up because I’m sure he can, but it’s harder to understand who he is because talking is a front. It’s our show to the world.
It’s even harder to make him out because he was forced to join the Heights Crew so he wouldn’t keep getting his ass kicked. Despite that, he seems to have taken the role seriously.
Before he can answer, a girl wraps her arms around him, draping herself over him like she’s his blanket. “Hey, Baby,” she coos.
I turn. There’s no reason for me to watch this show. Plus, I’m finding it difficult to hide how interested I am in them. They can’t know how badly I need them to accept me because they’ll turn on me in an instant. What I’ve experienced so far will be nothing. It’ll be a cake walk compared to what they’ll have in store for me.
“What are you—? Oh,” the girl says. Her displeasure makes me think she’s spotted me.
“Hey, Nevaeh,” douchebag says. His voice is low, flirty. It’s like he can’t even see she has a lady boner for Oscar. Or maybe she just has a lady boner for anyone who has power in this school. “I was just asking Drego if he still gives new girl two days.”
“Well?” Nevaeh asks like I’m not standing right there. I hurry, throwing shit in my locker, locking it up, and then starting to walk away, but douchebag gets in my way.
“We’re talking about you,” he says, eyes glistening. “Don’t move.”
I tentatively look toward Oscar. He’s assessing me. Not in a humiliating way. He’s not undressing me with his eyes he’s just watching, waiting. It’s like he’s content to sit back and see how this plays out.
“Actually, she needs to get the hell out of our way,” Nevaeh says. “She looks like shit warmed over.” Her sneer at my oversized shirt tells me exactly what she thinks about my choice of clothes. She’s wearing a short, black skirt, a body conforming white tank and a gold necklace dipping into her cleavage, so it’s easy to see why she thinks my clothing choices leave everything to be desired. “Oscar doesn’t need to look at this fugly chick.”
Oscar licks his lips. He leans away from Nevaeh like she suddenly smells bad. “Jealousy looks like shit on you,” he says, his voice even and sure.
Nevaeh’s jaw drops. She pulls out of his grip, wobbling a little in her tall heels. “What’s that supposed to mean? She may as well be wearing a paper bag.”
“This isn’t about her,” Oscar says, turning his full attention toward Nevaeh. “This is about you trying to claim me when I know who you’ve been spending time with.”
There’s something in Oscar’s eyes. It’s not just anger. He looks pained. A pain he seems to hate himself for feeling.
Nevaeh has the sense to look demur
e. She’s definitely not dumb. She’s smart. She knows who she needs to suck up to in order to survive this place. But I don’t just want to survive. “It was a mistake.”
Oscar laughs, loudly. “Once is a mistake. Twice could be an accident. But ten times? That’s with intent.”
I want to roll my eyes at his assessment of cheating, if that’s what this even is. He probably just wants her to hang off him and only him. To be there when he deems it necessary to show her affection. I can’t help but feel bad for her. In places like the Heights, the girls have to be as bad as the guys or they have to be someone’s someone. The one person they’ll crawl through fire for. The girl they’ll take a bullet for.
Nevaeh’s definitely not it for Oscar. She’s better off trying with douchebag here and then hope he actually makes it into the Crew.
A hand smacks me in the chest. “What are you looking at, Skank?”
I fly back into my locker. I take a moment to breathe before glancing at Nevaeh. Her red-rimmed eyes are glassy. It’s obvious she’s taken what Oscar said hard, and now she’s taking it out on me.
I shrug, then try to move around them, catching Oscar’s eye as I do. He’s looking on with interest—and possibly a smirk—as Nevaeh uses me as a play to get him back.
“Don’t you dare look at him. You should be kissing his fucking feet.”
Her hand slams down on my shoulder and pushes. She succeeds in making me stumble, but it doesn’t take me to my knees like she wants. I try to shrug her off. “I’m just trying to get to class,” I say, even though I’m twitching to retaliate.
“You can go to class as soon as you kiss Oscar’s shoes,” Nevaeh says loudly enough for everyone to hear.
The douchebag laughs like he’s never had this much fun before first period. I’d wish for the bell to ring, but I don’t think any of these guys give a shit whether they show up to class at all, let alone care if they make it on time.
Nevaeh tries to force me down again, this time buckling my knees for a second. I pop right back up, turning toward her. I draw the line at kissing fucking feet. I won’t be humiliated like that. Oscar reaches out for me, and everyone pauses. The laughter slows and then dies. Nevaeh stares open-mouthed at his gesture. He takes my arm, sliding his around mine.
Nevaeh gasps behind us. “Oscar…”
“Who knows,” Oscar says. “Maybe Princess knows how to treat a man.”
We walk around the corner, leaving the scene behind us. As soon as we’re out of sight, Oscar immediately lets me go. He walks off like he didn’t just make me enemy number one in Nevaeh’s eyes, but that wasn’t what his goal was. He was doing this for him. He was showing her he doesn’t give a fuck. That he can move on to the next girl because she means nothing to him. But I suspect the opposite is true. I suspect he actually really, really cares that he was runner up to someone else.
Who doesn’t? We all want to be number one. A long time ago, I was.
I grip the side of the locker and stare after Oscar. Cement hardens my veins, strengthening my purpose. I want revenge on the person who took the people who thought I was number one away from me. He deserves it.
5
You know that feeling when people keep looking at you and you’re afraid they know something you don’t? I get that for the entire day. In class, the other students blatantly watch me, most of them snickering, some just with looks of disinterest.
In the halls when I change classes, I get the same treatment. I don’t ever think of myself as someone who fears a lot of things. I’ve already been through the worst parts of my life, but today? Today, I’m worried about what the hell kind of shit is about to go down.
Right before lunch, I stop at my locker to drop off my book bag. It crashes to the bottom with a metallic clank. School seems like such a waste at the moment. Not only do the classes suck, but it’s basically impossible to learn anything. Plus, school isn’t the most important thing going on in my life right now. I’m only paying attention in class to wonder why everyone keeps watching me. I’m basically just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
A tickle of awareness cascades down my shoulders. I turn, slowly, so it doesn’t look like I’m afraid, but when I finally do see who’s behind me, my stomach bottoms out.
“The fuck are you doing?” Brawler seethes.
He grips my wrist, shuts and locks my locker with his other hand, and pulls me behind him to the stairwell at the end of the hall. It smells like a mixture of must and lingering smoke in this corner. Dust bunnies scatter along the walls. There are so many of them it looks as if they haven’t swept back here in a year. I yank my wrist out of his grip, certain I’m only able to because he let me. “What the fuck?” I growl back.
Brawler leans over me, his blue eyes blazing. He’s effectively cut me off from escaping. My back’s to the wall as he fills the gap between the wall and stairs. Voices linger in the hallway, but not enough that I would feel safe if I called out. Not to mention that would be a stupid idea, anyway. No one’s helping me here. I’m on my own. It’s Heights Crew territory, and I’m no one.
“Are you insane? Or just plain stupid?”
I rub my wrist for something to do. He didn’t really hurt me all that much, which makes me wonder what he’s playing at. I sit back on my heels and stare into the inky depths of his eyes. I want them to tell me all of Brawler’s secrets, but I keep coming up with nothing. “What are you talking about?”
He lets out a breath. “Nevaeh is what I’m talking about. She wants to challenge you to a fight.”
My heart starts to pound. This is what I wanted. This is my in. Go to the Heights. Act like a doormat. Find a back door into the underground ring. “A-a fight?” I stammer out, and the tension is real, not faked. I’m not worried Nevaeh will beat me. She’s straight up amateur, but the fact that on my second day at school, what I needed to have happen is already happening is fantastic. It just needs to play out the way I want—no, need—it to.
“Yes,” he all but growls. He runs a hand through his hair. “I know you’re fucking new here but listen up. If you get challenged to a fight, you have to fight. You don’t show your face after passing on a fight. You won’t fucking last. They’ll make sure of it.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Brawler’s concern warms my insides. A fleck of fear for me passes in our heated gaze. I wouldn’t have pegged Brawler as a weak link. Not that concern should make you weak, but he’s the one who puts on the fights for crying out loud. You would think he’d want to see this. “Why would she want to fight me?”
Brawler’s wide shoulders relax in defeat. He checks over his shoulder. “Oscar. Did he pick you over her or something? What went down?”
I pretend to think, drawing it out, which only makes Brawler more and more agitated. “He accused Nevaeh of cheating on him, then he did walk me down the hall a little way. I didn’t think that meant we were…”
I trail off, but Brawler doesn’t waste any time. “Nevaeh’s been going after Oscar since he got back. Her older brother’s in the Crew, and she wants in too. She’ll only be able to get in if she wifes up.”
“Wifes up?”
Brawler sighs. “Just forget it. Can you just please stay the fuck out of her way? When you see her coming down the hallway, move. If she’s in one of your classes, skip. If she comes at you, fucking run.”
I run a hand through my hair. Brawler watches the movement as I wonder what he’s playing at. I must’ve missed something important. I didn’t think any of these important players would be trying to help me. I can’t let Brawler get close. I have to make sure I fight. “Why do you care?”
Brawler snaps his mouth shut. His eyes shutter. There’s some definite emotion there for a split second before he shields himself, cutting me off from his real emotions.
“I’m a big girl. Brawler, right? That’s what they call you?” I don’t wait for an answer, and he’s not forthcoming with one, anyway. “This is just ridiculous,” I laugh. “She doesn’t want to fig
ht me. I didn’t do anything to her. Oscar did this. I’m sure he’ll fix it.”
Brawler’s head snaps toward me. “If you think Oscar gives a fuck about anyone but himself, you’re mistaken.”
“Again,” I say, losing patience. I can’t have Brawler interfering in this. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Don’t be dumb, New Girl.”
“My name’s Kyla, and I’ll be sticking around, so you might as well learn it.”
I try to push past him, but he’s like an immovable wall of muscle. His muscles flex as soon as I graze them. “Don’t do anything stupid. Take my advice.”
He gives me space to move out of the way, and I push through only to stop short when I see who’s standing only a few feet away. Oscar’s leaning back against a locker, looking much like I saw him on the first day of school. He kicks off the row of metal as soon as we spot one another. “What’s this?” he asks, looking between Brawler and me.
The heat from Brawler’s torso warms my back as soon as he steps behind me. When he speaks, his voice sounds gruffer. “I was warning her to stay away from Nevaeh.”
A cocky grin stretches Oscar’s lips. “Yeah, I guess she really didn’t like what happened earlier, huh?”
Brawler nods. “That’s the word being passed around.”
Oscar reaches out to play with the short hair around my temple that’s escaped from my ponytail. “I guess I should’ve seen that coming. Nevaeh doesn’t like being taken down a peg or two. Even when she’s in the wrong.”
“She wants to fight Princess here.”