But I don’t care.
I’m standing up for myself. Against Kali. Against the Havoc Boys. Against the world.
Unaware that she’s being stalked, Kali saunters down the hall like she’s queen, greeting Billie briefly and talking long enough that the other students clear out before she heads for the east hall. For the dark zone.
I slip out from behind the lockers as soon as Billie’s disappeared into the bathroom. I walk quickly but quietly, my boots gliding across the scratched and stained tiles that have lined these halls since my grandparents went to this stupid school.
As soon as I turn the corner and spot Kali, I start to run.
She turns around to look, tucking some hair behind her ear in the process.
“The hell?” That’s all she manages to get out before my fingers are digging into the back of her head, nails gouging her scalp as she gasps and reaches up to pry my hand away. “I’m pregnant,” she gushes suddenly, a truly cowardly move meant to save her own skin. Guarantee you the second I let go, she’d attack me instead.
“Oh, I already know that,” I purr, channeling Vic, channeling Oscar, channeling the pure emotional malevolence that is Havoc. Leaning in, I put my lips against Kali’s cheek, kissing her and staining her skin with my bloodred lipstick. “But as a friend once said, your face isn’t pregnant.”
I shove Kali forward and slam her face into the front of one of the lockers. She chokes on blood as hot red liquid streams from her nose and over her lips. I know she’s working to become a model. This incident might not change her life, but she won’t be pretty for a while, that’s for sure.
“You can thank Billie for this,” I hiss at her as my own face throbs. I cleaned it again last night, reapplied some butterfly bandages. The whole time, all I could think about were Oscar’s long, tattooed fingers caressing my cheek and arm. “Consider it an eye for an eye.”
Kali struggles, but my grip on her is too good. I shove her into the locker a second time, and she tries to scream. Too bad for her, I know exactly how to hold a bitch’s head back so that it’s hard to make a sound. With her neck curved the way it is, the best she can do is gasp and whimper.
My mind flickers back to Halloween night, to Kali sitting all cuddled up next to the Thing.
She could be a victim of his, too. I know that, and yet … nobody made her call Havoc.
She did that all on her own.
“You fucking whore,” she gasps out, but then I shove her forward again. Too hard maybe. Her knees buckle and she flags to the floor. There’s blood everywhere, but my vision is colored red, too, so it’s hard for me to tell.
Danny Ensbrook lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. Penelope screaming beneath the Thing. Kali laughing as she slipped into my stolen homecoming dress.
I think if gentle hands hadn’t grabbed me from behind, I might’ve killed her then.
“That’s enough, Bernadette,” a dark voice whispers in my ear, and then I’m overwhelmed with the smell of Callum’s aftershave. It’s a hard scent to describe, like private exchanges behind closed doors and pillow talk on a rainy morning.
I gasp like I’m coming to, releasing Kali’s hair as he hauls me backward, enveloping me in those strong arms of his.
“I’ve got you, Bernie,” Cal whispers, squeezing me tight, his head bent over mine, the hood of his sweatshirt hiding us from the world. “I’ve got you.” He holds me tighter than I’d ever imagine to be comfortable, but there’s something soothing about it. I feel my rage melting away, logic trickling back into my clouded vision.
Kali is on the ground, covered in blood and groaning.
Callum leaves her there, taking me by the hand and pulling me down the hall to the boys’ bathroom. He sits me down on the closed lid of the toilet and gathers up a wad of paper towels, letting the water in the old sinks run hot before he gets them damp.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” I say, my voice colored with dark wonder. Cal crouches in front of me, smiling tightly as he reaches out and takes my hand in his, carefully brushing aside Kali’s blood spatters.
“I can,” he says, voice gravelly and broken, but beautiful anyway, like a shattered tombstone on a sunny day. It’s a little sad, but the sun is warm, and the view is right. “Because I’ve been there. Remember how I told you that I almost killed the boys that did this to me?” He points to the scars on his neck. “You’re drowning in your own pain, Bernadette.” Callum swipes the wet paper towels across my face, and they come away red with blood. I must’ve gotten Kali even worse than I thought. “You need to learn to swim before you try to push someone else’s head under.”
I scowl at him, turning my head to look at the graffiti scratched across the walls of the bathroom stall. There are things written there that I’d never dare repeat. Boys are fucking gross sometimes. I wonder how many times my name has been scribbled across these walls? Looking now, I see nothing, and I just know deep down that Havoc had something to do with that.
“What happened to the boys that gave you your scars?” I ask mildly, because while Callum said Vic saved him, taught him how to seek revenge the right way … what is the right way? Castrating someone and carving the word Rapist into their face?
“They’ll never walk again,” Cal says, nodding his chin briefly before standing up. “They took my dreams away from me, so I took theirs, too.” He smiles again, and the sight of it gives me the chills.
“About the other day …” I start, because we can’t just forget that we almost had sex at the studio. I certainly can’t forget that out of all the boys, I chose to run to him. What the fuck does that even mean?
“It either means nothing,” Cal starts, shaking his head slightly. He reaches up to push his hood back, revealing that pretty blond hair of his. “Or it means everything. We don’t have to talk about it. Just decide what it is that you want.”
Callum turns away, flushes the paper towels down the toilet in the next stall over—likely to hide the evidence—and then disappears out the door.
I stay in the boys’ bathroom, crouched on the seat of the toilet in a locked stall, until lunch rolls around.
Nobody bothers me, and that’s just the way I like it.
There's not a goddamn student at Prescott High who isn't aware of our little war with the Charter Crew. I can feel their eyes following me as I walk down the halls, and it would be impossible to miss all of the money changing hands as students place their bets.
I just hope everyone who bets against us knows they’re placing their eggs in the wrong basket.
“This is not the senior year I signed up for,” Hael says, leaning back on the front steps as Callum sips a Pepsi, his hood flipped up over his blond hair again. The conversation stops as soon as I come out the door, taking a seat next to Oscar because, let's be honest, knowing that he hates me means we have the easiest relationship out of everyone here. We know what we want—and don't want—from one another.
He stares at me like I’m some sort of diseased slag, and I curl my lip his direction.
“This isn't the senior year I was expecting either,” I quip, giving Vic a sideways look. He laughs at me, making me bristle. How fucking dare he. After what he said to me the other night, I oughta dump his entire soda on his head and then curb stomp his balls. “My question is: what are we going to do about it? Vaughn is here, like nothing happened. That's as much a slap to our authority as Mitch and his buddies.”
I glance briefly at Callum, but he isn’t looking at me, and it’s quite clear from Victor’s lack of violent rage that he doesn’t know about Kali yet. Surprisingly enough, she hasn’t narked on me either. Likely, she won’t. It’d put her new crew at too much risk. The shitty part for me is, I will have to tell Vic at some point.
Just … maybe not right this second.
“So it's our authority, now is it?” Vic asks, and Aaron throws him a goddamn death glare.
“Lay off of her,” he growls, and the tension—and the testosterone—ramps up to dang
erous levels. I probably shouldn't have gone after Aaron the way I did. It's turned an already messy situation into a filthy one. “Bernadette deserves better than that, after the way we've treated her.”
“After the way we've treated her?” Oscar echoes, the lenses of his glasses flashing as he lifts his gaze up from the surface of his iPad. Apparently, nobody's going to mention the one that I threw against the wall. “How, exactly, are we treating her, Aaron?”
“You know what I mean,” Aaron says, not looking at me. He's just staring across the street at the row of modest suburban houses. You can tell by the aged siding and the sagging roofs that even the homeowners who do care about their homes are limited by funds. Makes me think of the assholes in the Oak Park neighborhood with their luxury cars and soaring mansions, and I scowl. “The video. The thing with Kali. Everything.”
Aaron turns to look at me, his green-gold gaze cutting right through me as he furrows his brow. Are we going to talk about what happened on the couch? Are we going to talk about the fact that I said I still loved him? Looking at him right now, my heart breaks all over again, and I feel a lump forming in my throat. The day he broke up with me, I thought I would die. I truly and utterly believed that my broken heart would kill me. Somehow, I managed to patch it together and keep going, but the patchwork quilt of my soul is not the same as it was then. Aaron isn't the same either, not even remotely. I'm not even sure if it's possible for us to bridge the gap between us.
“I don't see the problem; you were shown the video. Is your problem then that you just weren't shown it sooner?” Oscar asks, his voice a derisive slight that I do my best to ignore. Kneeing him in the balls and wrapping my hands around his throat at Vic's house is one thing, but I can't do it here, especially not with things the way they are.
I lean back on the steps, basking in the sun like a snake. I don’t belong in the daylight, but every now and again I need to absorb a little light to keep me warm.
“You know,” I start, tilting my head to one side as I watch students shrink and cower past us. They might bet against us, but they know better than to show open defiance. Unless they’re willing to join the Charter Crew and fight the war, they’re nothing but peons. “Once Victor and I are married—”
“Oh, so you have decided to grace me with your hand in marriage then? After the other night, I wasn’t sure you were still interested.” Vic’s dark voice reeks of butthurt, but you know, it’s not my fault if he feels emotionally raped by my words. I offered him an olive branch, and he essentially spit in my face.
I ignore him.
“Once we’re married,” I start again, raising my voice and turning my attention on Oscar. “You aren’t going to speak to me like that anymore.”
“How so?” Oscar asks, carefully setting the iPad aside and leveling his gray gaze on me. He obviously isn’t afraid of me. Either he can learn to respect me, or I’ll show him the true meaning of fear. “You think marrying Victor gives you some sort of status upgrade? Don’t fool yourself.”
I laugh, letting my head fall back, sunshine caressing my throat. I’ve bared it to this group of dangerous assholes, like a wolf who isn’t afraid to let her inferiors sniff her neck. I’m not afraid. Let them try to bite me and see what happens.
“Marrying Victor does give me a status upgrade,” I say, turning to look at the man in question. It’s impossible not to look at Aaron, too, seeing as he’s sitting on Vic’s other side, looking at me in just such a way that I wonder if today he might actually speak up, fight for me the way I’ve been craving since moment one. But, I guess not today, Satan. “Doesn’t it, Vic?” I ask, quirking a brow. He shifts uncomfortably on the step for a moment, turning his obsidian gaze to the street and narrowing his eyes.
I have his balls in a vise, and he doesn’t even know it.
Actually, the only reason that I know that is because he has my heart in one. I want to please him so badly and yet, I hate myself for it. I’m sure Victor feels the same way about me. That, at least, levels the playing field.
“You might be king of Havoc, but if you think I’m going to marry you and keep this crappy omega status you’ve granted me, you have another thing coming.”
Hael grins and offers me up a high five. I hesitate for a second, but decide to slap my palm against his in solidarity. He ends up yanking me down the steps and into his lap instead, putting his lips up against my ear.
“If Vic doesn’t want you to be his queen, I might have an opening you could fill?” Hael pauses for a second, frowning, and then flashes a shit-eating smile that makes my stomach flip. “Actually, it’s the other way around, isn’t it? You’re the one with an opening that needs filling.”
“Knock that shit off,” Vic snaps, watching us together. His dark eyes take me and Hael in with no small amount of jealousy. While it’s obvious that Victor doesn’t like what happened between me and Aaron yesterday either, it’s clear that finding Hael watching us pissed him off even more. And yet another thing I have to tell him: me and Cal at the studio. Fantastic. I’m sure that’ll go over about as well as a hurricane in Florida. “I’m not having this conversation here. We can talk about it later.” Victor lights up a cigarette, saluting one of the on-campus police officers who turns a blind eye to his disobedience, leaving me with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. How many cops does Havoc own? More or less than Neil?
I turn in Hael’s lap, straddling him and weaving my hands together behind his neck, his red hair tickling my fingers. It’s bloodred, so clearly a dye job, but after seeing his mother, it’s likely that he really is a ginger underneath.
His honey-brown eyes look down into mine, sharp fragments of pain hidden behind those vibrant irises. He’s still shaken from the incident on Saturday, and obviously there’s still something going on between him and his father. All the smiles, the braying laughter, the flirting, it’s a front for an entire firestorm of pain.
“I won’t let Oscar treat me like shit,” I tell Hael, stroking an ebony fingernail down the side of his smooth face. He never lets his stubble get the better of him, not like Vic or Aaron. Told ya, he’s the southside version of the popular boy—vibrant, charismatic, gregarious. If only he lived a different life, Hael could be something special. “But if Vic won’t stand up for me, will you?” I ask, glancing over at Aaron.
Callum watches us from the shadows of his hood, sipping on his Pepsi. It’s not uncharacteristic for him to be so quiet, but after what happened at the Halloween party, I’m seriously worried. I’ll admit, I’m struggling with all of the revelations.
The video.
The information about my Havoc price.
The fact that Vic told me they tortured me to put distance between us.
All of that.
Hael is just so … plucky, sometimes it’s hard to remember that he’s just as culpable as the rest of them. I mean, he is the H in Havoc, isn’t he?
“You want me to whip Oscar’s ass for your honor?” Hael asks, still grinning maniacally. “I mean, I’m not opposed to it. He’s skinny as fuck; I outweigh him by like seventy pounds.”
“Bernadette …” Victor warns, leaning over and putting his elbows on his knees. The look he throws me is cold hell.
I ignore him, putting my forehead up against Hael’s. He exhales and wraps his strong arms around my waist, smelling like coconut oil and old cars.
“Fucking grease monkey,” I murmur, and then I kiss him.
It’s pure fire, that kiss. We could light up the night with it.
Hael’s tongue slips between my lips as his hands slide down my sides to cup my ass through my leather pants.
“Jesus Christ,” Vic growls, throwing his soda can on the ground. It explodes in a rush of foam as he reaches down and grabs my chin. Hael’s jaw clenches tight and his hands squeeze even tighter on my ass. “When we get married, Bernadette Savannah Blackbird, you will be mine. And I’ll treat you as such. Oscar will mind his tongue. And next time he tries to do something stupid—like sho
w you a fucking video of your sister being raped—it won’t be Hael that puts him in line, it’ll be me.”
“You can’t be serious?” Oscar asks, scowling as he puts his iPad aside. “You’re on a very short leash, Victor. Can’t you see it? This girl is going to ruin us.” Oscar gestures at me with one of his tattooed hands. His easy calm is slipping as I smirk at him, watching the repercussions of that expression ripple through his body. “She’s already creating cracks between you and Hael, you and Aaron.”
“Don’t use me as an argument against Bernadette,” Aaron says, turning away and subconsciously reaching across his chest to touch his shoulder. He grimaces slightly and grits his teeth, fingers curling in his sweatshirt. I’m surprised he even showed up to school today, everything considered. I would’ve preferred it if he’d stayed home to rest, but I guess that’s not how Havoc functions.
“Think what you want,” Victor says, scanning the street like a predator on the hunt. He doesn’t look at me again, but that’s okay. I’ve won a battle today. Maybe not a war, but definitely a skirmish. “When Bernadette is my wife, you’ll treat her like it.”
“How, might I ask, is that?” Oscar grinds out as Callum pushes his hood back, blond hair catching the sunlight. “I seem to have missed the memo. I wasn’t aware you two were soul mates; I was under the impression this was a marriage of convenience.”
“What did you mean by ‘you’ll be mine’, exactly?” Callum asks, smiling slightly. “Just clarifying.”
“All of your questions are self-explanatory,” Vic says, flicking his cigarette onto the cement and turning to head back inside. “We’re having a group meeting on Friday. We’ll hash whatever out then. For now, keep on your toes. Mitch isn’t as stupid as he looks.”
Victor heads for the double doors that lead into Prescott High, shoving through them with both palms.
“Fuck, he’s an asshole,” Hael says, closing his eyes for a brief moment. I notice, though, that he doesn’t let go of me. I’m not really sure what Hael and I are to each other right now, but … we must be something, right?
Chaos at Prescott High Page 12