by E. M. Moore
My jaw locks. That fucking name needs to die. Instead of blowing up, I smile sweetly at Oscar. “I told Brawler it was a misunderstanding.”
Oscar’s arm drops down to his side. He peeks over my shoulder at Brawler then back at me. “Whether it was or wasn’t, doesn’t change anything.”
The look in his eyes is cold. A familiarity seeps through me. I recognize some of myself in him.
“You can fix this, man,” Brawler says. “Look at her,” he says, motioning toward me, “She’s going to get seriously hurt. She doesn’t belong here.”
I guess no one has ever told these guys that appearances aren’t everything. Wasn’t that something we should’ve learned a long time ago? Don’t judge a book by its cover and all that jazz? These guys are going to have a rude awakening when I step into that ring.
Oscar laughs. The sound chills me. He’s perfected the art of not giving a fuck. I suspect a lot of the people here have—except Brawler. I still can’t figure out why he’s even giving me the time of day. “Why would I do that? I said she was going to last two days, today’s the second day. She’ll probably run home tonight after the threat of violence and beg her parents to take her the hell away from here.”
“I don’t have parents,” I say
Brawler talks over me. “This one’s on you then, man. Remember that.”
“Isn’t everything on me?”
Brawler and Oscar stare at one another. Unspoken words pass between them. Their eyes flare, their muscles bunch. They’re having a battle of wills I’m not privy to, but I can taste the testosterone they exert on my tongue. It smells like bad decisions and musk.
My heart flutters.
I don’t dare speak or move while they eye one another. It’s Oscar who moves first. He holds his arm out to me. “Lunch?”
I stare at his offered hand and then up to him. “Um, what?”
“Sit with me at lunch.”
“Isn’t that just going to piss Nevaeh off more?”
“Yes, but I suspect it’s also going to piss someone else off.” His eyes flick behind me. “Which makes it that much more exciting.”
I look over my shoulder to find Brawler shaking his head. He walks away, his long strides taking him away far quicker than if I were to hurry off the same way.
A grin teases Oscar’s lips. “I swear I’m a nicer guy than Brawler makes me out to be.”
“Didn’t you just say that I was only going to last two days and you were okay with that?”
“That’s just years of experience talking.” He drops his voice, murmuring into the now empty hall. “There’s no shame in running away.” Even though he offers it with a grin, I’m not meant to take him up on it.
Despite myself, I’m more curious than ever about these two. Oscar seems lost, and I never would’ve guessed that the guy who puts on the Crew fights has a conscience. He’s worried for me, and if I had to take a stab at what he was doing this morning on our way to school, I’d bet he was watching me to make sure I made it okay.
Oscar leans over as we start walking down the hallway. “Do me a favor. If Nevaeh calls you out, make sure you kick her ass for me.”
He keeps his head facing forward, but I turn to look at his profile. His eyes are dark, clouded over with a mixture of anger, self-loathing, and something much fiercer.
There’s definitely something more to these guys than I originally thought.
Like this morning, Oscar drops my arm like he never even wanted it in the first place. I stop just outside the lunchroom as he walks in, greeted by a myriad of other students. In there, there’s no trace of the guy who wants revenge on the girl who wronged him. In there, people fall all over him because of who he is.
Back in my old school, the only ones who were treated like that were the ultra-rich. Here, Oscar’s three rungs from the top on the gang life pyramid, which makes him a damn hero. Those who don’t like him still tolerate him because they know what he has at his disposal.
An arm moves around my shoulders, dropping there like it belongs. I immediately jump and stiffen when I see who it is. The guy’s eyes widen with recognition. “Ahh, you get around, don’t you?” His snicker makes me want to vomit. “I see you’ve met Oscar, probably in more ways than one already. No wonder why I hear Nevaeh’s gunning for you.”
My lips move without saying anything. The skin he just touched crawls with confusion. It’s repulsion, yet warmth at the same time. Stomach rolling, I attempt to get myself together. “I’m new.” I swallow, hoping I sound authentic. “I just met Oscar yesterday, if you can call it meeting at all. He thinks I’m only going to last two days in this school.”
Rocket looks me up and down, his perusal slow, steady, and unnerving. “He was generous.” I can’t help the annoyance that flits across my face. It makes Rocket laugh. “I can see why he’s all up in your business though. Oscar’s always liked shiny things. He likes to chase better tail, and we can tell you’re not from around here from a mile away.”
No kidding. Having an admin go down on someone in the main office who isn’t even a student never would’ve happened in my old school. Hell, it shouldn’t be happening in this school either.
“I wonder how jealous I can make Oscar…”
Rocket reaches out, but I move out of the way. “I don’t know Oscar. I don’t even know you.”
“You remember we met yesterday though, right?”
“Was that a meeting? From what I could see, you were busy.”
Rocket’s eyes dance. On the surface, they’re a similar color to Brawler’s, but Rocket’s are lighter like swimming in the Caribbean Sea. “I’m Rocket,” he says, inclining his head.
“Kyla,” I tell him. My fingers clench and unclench. I know he didn’t kill my parents. He didn’t pull the trigger, but he comes from the deranged man who did, and it’s hard to separate the two. I’ve seen blurry pictures of both. Their bone structure is similar, but Big Daddy K, leader of the Heights Crew, has thirty pounds on his son and thirty years. Neither is in the positive column.
I’m trying to accept the fact that Johnny Rocket is good looking. My brain tells me that. My eyes tell me that. But I can’t help but wonder if his soul is as dark as his father’s.
“Good to know,” Johnny says. He rakes his gaze down me, making me want to take these clothes off and burn them. He’s having entirely too much fun trying to see under them.
“What year are you in?” I ask because that sounds like a reasonable question for someone you’ve just met who’s standing in a school, even though I know he shouldn’t be. “I don’t think we have any classes together.”
The corners of his lips tip up. “Oh, we won’t be having any classes together. I graduated two years ago. I just like to stop by to check on my guys.”
“Your guys?”
“Friends,” he tells me, shrugging off the question. It looks like even he isn’t arrogant enough to spill that he’s a part of the Crew even though everyone knows it. Hell, he’s second tier. He’s runner-up to his father. In the years to come, he’ll be groomed to take his father’s place. He’ll reign supreme over all this. The school, the city, the people. There’s not a single person around that won’t be out of his reach.
Johnny Rocket is everything. And he knows it.
6
Seeing Johnny Rocket unnerves me for the rest of the day. Brawler follows me home, the whispers of Nevaeh and I fighting still thick in the air around us. I should be happy about this because this is what I wanted. I needed an in to fight. I have one. I’m not worried about fighting Nevaeh at all, I just didn’t think I’d see Johnny the first day I got to the Heights—or the second.
What if his father is around, too? Like a fly on the wall? Or the boogie man in the shadows? What if he’s around, and I just don’t know it?
The thought follows me all the way home, and even though Brawler stomps up the steps behind me since we live in the same hall, I go right to my apartment, lock all my locks, and walk right into the sma
ll bedroom to lie down, dropping my book bag on the carpet in the process. I feather a breath out, staring up at the ceiling, but not seeing it. Instead, I’m imagining everything that’s gone down in the years since my parents were taken from me. That’s how I get through times like this. Times when I wonder what I’m doing this for. I mean, I want the outcome. I want to have Big Daddy K’s life in my hands at the end but getting there is the problem. Every little step makes everything I’ve worked for and trained for all that much more real. The path is opening ahead of me like I thought it would, and I can’t help but second-guess things.
One Kyle and An-na. Two Kyle and An-na. These words are my calming motto. My reminder I have more to live for.
I fall asleep thinking about all of this, but I’m awakened later by hard knocks on the door. My eyes flit toward the hidden compartment below the shelf, wondering if I should grab the gun there.
It could be Nevaeh.
It could be Johnny.
It could be Big Daddy K, and somehow, they’ve put it all together and know what I’m here to do.
The banging persists, so I get up, tiptoeing my way to the door while straightening my clothes.
I’m about to peek through the peephole when a gruff voice says, “I know you’re in there, New Girl!”
I close my eyes briefly. Brawler’s on the other side of the door. I recognize the annoyance in his voice. Out of everyone it could be, he’s the safest to open the door for. In his way, he’s tried to protect me. Just to be sure it’s him, I check the peephole and then go through the process of unlocking all the locks when I recognize the tribal tattoos flowing up his arms. I pull the door open. “I hope you aren’t dropping off more cookies. I threw the last ones away.”
His gaze narrows at me, but then moves behind me, once again looking into my empty apartment. “No guardians again?”
“They work a lot.”
“They must have shit jobs.”
“Doesn’t everyone around here have shit jobs?”
His lips purse. Instead of responding, he pushes past me like he owns the place.
“What the fuck?” I growl.
He turns toward me, pushing the door closed to enclose us in this space. He checks the locks before turning a calculating gaze on me. “We have a problem.”
I try to keep still. I hope this is it. My chance to get into the depths with them, but in the Heights, who knows what this could be about? He could be pissed I said his mom’s cookies were shit. I don’t know. “You and I have a problem?”
“No, you have the problem.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Is this about Nevaeh because I really don’t think that’s going to be an issue,” I lie. My skin tingles at the prospect. Please. For the love of God, let me fight her.
“It was about Nevaeh, but it’s not anymore.” Brawler does a once-over as he shakes his head.
Well, fuck. I try not to look put out.
“There’s some shit you don’t understand about your new school. Even if you heard people whisper about it, you still don’t know shit. Trust me.”
I just stare, waiting for him to keep going, trying not to look at the ink on his forearms.
“In Rawley Heights, we have the Heights Crew. For lack of a better term, it’s a gang.”
“Okay…”
His jaw clamps shut. I can’t help that I find Brawler intriguing. I totally had him pegged wrong. Here I thought he was going to be a badass fighter, which I’m sure he is, but he’s more than that, too. Or maybe I’ve just done my part well, looking like a pathetic scared kitten, and he feels like he needs to warn me about the dangerous side of the Heights.
Still, it doesn’t add up. I’ve seen him around the other people in school. I’ve even watched him interact when I was gathering information about the Crew. He barely talks. He’s talked more to me than I’ve seen him talk to anyone.
Passing his thumb over his lip, he says, “Nevaeh took her beef with you to Johnny Rocket. Remember when I told you that if you got called out, you have to fight?” He waits for my nod, then continues. “After she took it to him, he agreed you’re fighting, but not with Nevaeh.”
This time, the look of concern that passes across my face is real. If not Nevaeh, then who? “And…?”
“Cherry.”
I rack my brain, trying to remember if I’ve come across the name Cherry, but I come up with nothing. “Does she go to our school?” I ask.
Brawler shakes his head. “Used to. Not anymore.” He runs his hands over his blond hair. “Fuck. I was hoping I’d have more time to introduce you to all of this, but for some fucking reason, you stick out to everybody.”
“Introduce me to what?”
“The fight ring,” he says, gaze meeting mine. The struggle in his blue depths is real.
“You already told me if people get called out, they have to fight,” I tell him, spilling out everything I’m supposed to know.
A low chuckle spills from his mouth, and for the first time since I’ve laid eyes on Brawler, his eyes are practically dancing. “It’s a lot more than that, Princess.”
“Stop calling me that,” I snap. I hate that we’re talking about fighting and I’m being called Princess in the same damn sentence.
“I like it,” he says, shrugging. “I like it even more because you don’t.” I bite my lip at the look of fiery excitement in his eyes. He immediately drops his gaze to my mouth before continuing. “The fights are how the Heights Crew makes money. People can call people out, but you have to pay to fight. Sometimes with money. Sometimes with other things. It’s the betting that they make the big bucks on though. It’s made the Crew one of the wealthiest and most dangerous around.” He swallows. “If you’d stuck around, you would’ve figured this all out on your own. I’m giving you a crash course because you’re on the card tonight.”
“I’m what?” My eyes round. Excitement and uncertainty clash inside me.
“Unless you’re out,” he says. He looks around my empty apartment. My stomach tightens. It might be me, but I think he sees more than he should. He’s perceptive. He’s never just looking at the surface. If Brawler’s looking at you, he’s going deep.
“I can’t be out,” I tell him. “I live here now, and I don’t want to fucking move again.” The irony that I’m arguing to stay in this shithole is not lost on me. I’m probably the only one in this world who would pick this life over the other one waiting for me if I choose to go back to it.
I won’t until I get this shit done.
“Then you don’t have a choice. And when I say you don’t, I mean it. If you don’t at least show up and put up a fight, consider yourself enemy number one, Princess. We don’t play games here. You might have heard of bullying at your other schools. Maybe even witnessed it.” A dark smile stretches his face momentarily. “Ours is more like a hazing. If you survive, you can stay, and I do mean survive. There’s no PTA or administration who’s going to save you. The teachers don’t care. They’re scared, and if they’re not scared, it’s because they’re in the Crew too. There’s only two ways out of this shit you find yourself in. Fight in the fight. Or fight for your life. Both are going to suck, but at least if you show up to the fight, you have a chance of survival.”
Goosebumps spread over my body. I pass my palms over my skin, trying to calm the chills, wondering how many students at the school have been run off because of what the Heights Crew has going on here. If you think about it, it’s the perfect setup. They own the people here. The fights keep everyone in line and makes sure only the strongest survive. It gives guys like Rocket the perfect opportunity to pick the best people to join the Heights Crew ranks. Not to mention the money they make out of it all.
“So, who’s this Cherry?” I ask.
Brawler drops into my recliner and ignores the evil eye I give him. “Now that would be cheating.”
“You don’t think she’s going to know everything about me?”
“No one knows anything about you. You j
ust showed up.” He eyes me like he’s trying to look deep under my skin again. It’s unnerving.
I move to the bar separating the small kitchen from the living room and lean against it. “That happens, doesn’t it? People just move places. That’s not unheard of.”
“It doesn’t happen in the Heights. You think people want to just move here? The people who live here are stuck, and there’s more than one way to be stuck.”
He looks away. I’m burning with curiosity about all his secrets. I can’t help myself. I thought I would hate everyone here. I thought everyone who had anything to do with the Heights Crew would be outright terrible. Like I could look at them and just know their dirtiest secrets. If Brawler has dirty secrets, they’re hidden underneath his fine exterior and conflicted gaze. “Fine. I don’t get information on Cherry. How does Nevaeh feel about this? She wanted the fight, right?”
“You’re still on her shit list. You better be careful with that one. Oscar’s been at the top of her list for a while. That asshole hasn’t done you any favors.”
That’s an understatement. He basically sicced every female at the school on me on day one. Then, he used me as bait to get back at someone else. I’m beginning to think that Brawler’s assessment of Oscar only being out for himself is all too true.
“So, you said I have to pay to fight, right? I—”
Brawler waves me away. “Only the person who wants the fight has to pay up.” He stands from the armchair. “Have you ever fought before?”
He steps closer, his looming presence hovering over me.
I shrug, a smile plays over my lips. “You think I’m going to tell you?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“If I don’t get to know anything about Cherry, why would I tell you something about me? Something you could take back to her?”
He purses his lips. “Why would you think I’d do that?”
It’s hard to concentrate when he’s around. I’ve almost forgotten we’re even having a conversation. He just has this aura about him that makes me want to take him in. Inspect him without using words. “Just being cautious,” I say finally.