Mayhem at Prescott High

by Stunich, C. M.

  Cal is the first to respond, and I immediately put him on speakerphone.

  “I’m at the convenience store,” he says, reminding me that Aaron pointed it out as a rendezvous point the night we went mudding. “I don’t see Aaron yet; I didn’t see him in the woods either.”

  “He could be hiding, or playing it safe,” Victor muses, glancing back at me, as if he can see Callum by looking at Hael’s phone in my hands. “What about Aaron’s phone? Do you see it in the car?”

  There’s a minute of what sounds like Cal rummaging around inside the Camaro, and then a curse.

  “Yep. Here it is. Fuck.” Cal sighs, like he’s frustrated by the whole situation. “I found it.”

  My heart feels like it’s being stabbed with thousands of tiny needles; I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all.

  “Cal, take the Camaro to the garage and park it. We’ll wait at the convenience store for as long as I feel it’s safe, and then we’ll get you. If Aaron isn’t back by then, we’ll start canvassing the woods once their crew clears out.” Victor exhales sharply and digs his fingers into his hair. In this moment, I both love him fiercely and respect the hell out of him. His job sucks.

  “Got it,” Callum says, hanging up shortly after.

  The car remains silent as we drive to the convenience store and park around back, waiting in the parking lot for a while before Vic slips out to head inside. He comes back in just a few minutes, shaking his head and cursing.

  For nearly forty minutes, we wait, but Aaron doesn’t show up.

  After that, Hael takes us around the immediate area, checking all sorts of strange places that I wouldn’t expect to look—a public restroom, a treehouse in the backyard of a foreclosure, the old movie theater that’s been closed for years, but whose ticket booth is unlocked and probably makes for an awesome hiding spot.

  Nothing.

  “Vic,” I start, breaking out into a cold sweat. If something happens to Aaron, I will fucking die. It will break all the last happy, pretty parts of me, and I will become nothing. I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true. “Where the fuck is he?”

  “I don’t know, Bernie,” Vic says, glancing over his shoulder at me as Oscar texts various crew members on his iPad. “But we’ll find him. Or die trying. That much, at least, I promise you.”

  We head to the garage to grab Callum, but instead of just picking him up, the boys boot me out of the car.

  “What the hell?” I snarl as Cal stands outside the open passenger door, waiting for me to climb out. Oscar is on the other side, looking impatient and annoyed. It’s very clearly a mask though; he’s terrified for his friend. Nobody has to tell me how bad this situation is; I can see it for myself. “I’m not staying here; I want to look for him with you.”

  “Bernadette, I will not ask you again,” Vic growls, turning around in the front passenger seat to look at me. His eyes blaze with dark fury. “Get out of the car or I will drag you out myself.” Hael says nothing, watching the interaction with a deep-set frown. “Bernie,” Victor starts again, closing his eyes and trying to gain control of his temper. He’s good at it, as always, so when he next turns his gaze on me, it’s much calmer. “My mother is going to try to kill you. She is very good at what she does; there’s a reason I’m as ruthless as I am. Now, please get the fuck out of the Mercedes, stay with Oscar, and go home in case Aaron shows up there. We have a dozen guys on the house; it’ll be safe.”

  “Vic …” I start, but I know he’s right. With a violent slew of curses, I throw my boots down on the pavement and climb out of the car, slamming the door behind me. The boys are pulling out of the driveway before I even get a chance to turn around, watching them peel out and disappear down the street.

  I glance over at Oscar’s pinched expression.

  “Please tell me he’s coming back,” I whisper, but it takes Oscar far longer than it should to look over at me and nod.

  “He’ll come back,” he says, but he doesn’t sound entirely convinced by his own words.

  I close my eyes as he moves up the drive, heading into the office to grab some keys. When he comes back, I open them again and watch as he unlocks the doors to a mustard yellow Chevelle. Without a word, I head over, climb into the passenger seat, and lean my head back.

  There is only one thought playing out inside my mind.

  Where is Aaron? Where is Aaron? Where the fuck is Aaron?!

  Aaron Fadler

  When I come to, it’s dark out and I’m lying on my side. Everything fucking hurts. Everything. For a second there, I have no idea where I am or what the fuck is going on. When I try to sit up, I bang my head on something and feel the very first edges of panic start to take over me.

  Don’t do that, Aaron, I tell myself, trying to stay calm. The thing is, I’ve got pretty bad claustrophobia, so no matter how logical I try to be with myself, I’m still going to panic. I have no idea where the phobia came from; I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. Dying the way Neil Pence did … that’s like, my worst nightmare. Am in a coffin? I wonder suddenly, feeling around inside the small area where I’m trapped.

  But no.

  It’s not the right shape, and there’s a pair of jumper cables next to me.

  Ah.

  A trunk then.

  I’m inside of somebody’s fucking trunk.

  “What the hell?” I murmur, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest. Don’t do it, Aaron. Don’t panic, man. You got this. You got this. You fucking got this. I squeeze my eyes shut. Not like it matters, since it’s dark as pitch in here, but it helps somehow. Like, it’s supposed to be dark when you close your eyes. It’s not dark because I’m trapped, right?

  I take a second with my eyes closed, trying to control my breathing as I adjust my body and then hiss in pain. My right hand goes to my leg and pieces of scattered memories flicker behind my closed lids. Getting pulled out of the Camaro, fists and boots and fighting, blood from someone’s head. I remember getting up and running as fast as I could toward the woods, as per our plan. Get into the woods, get away, meet at the nearest rendezvous point six blocks away.

  When I try to remember what happens next, my leg throbs in response and I groan.

  That’s right.

  Someone hit me with their fucking car.

  I remember pain exploding in my leg, but then nothing after that.

  I lean my head against the inside of the trunk, the throbbing in my leg increasing as I take note of it. Either I’m still in shock or the injury isn’t too terrible. I move to adjust my legs and end up crying out in pain. Holy fuck. The agony is sharp when I move, but dull if I stay still. I’ve had enough broken bones to figure that could very well be what’s wrong. I don’t feel any wet blood when I touch my leg at least.

  Nah, most of the blood is on my sore and swollen face.

  Jesus.

  The car I’m in seems to be sitting still. When I strain my ears, I hear nothing but crickets outside. Very likely, we’re in the woods somewhere. There’s no traffic, no distant laughter, no voices.

  This isn’t looking good for me.

  My mind strays to my girls. All of them, including Heather and … Bernadette.

  “Bernie,” I murmur, rubbing at my face. She’s probably freaking all the way out right now as she looks for me. The idea makes me want to panic. If she goes gallivanting around the city in search of me, she could end up getting herself killed. It’s clear that Ophelia is intent on getting Vic’s inheritance, regardless of what she has to do to earn it. “Hello?” I call out, but of course nobody answers me. “Who the fuck are you?” I shout next. It can’t hurt, right? Either I’m in the middle of nowhere, or else somebody’s bound to hear me.

  I run my hands around the inside of the trunk, looking for the spot where the taillights should be. Theoretically, if I punch and kick them, they’re supposed to pop out. I find what I’m looking for but decide to wait until we start moving before I give that idea a try. No need to let my captor know I’ve got a tric
k up my sleeve.

  There are two other options for getting out of a trunk. The first is the trunk release cable, but not all cars have that. Likely this is an older car, I think, wetting my dry lips. Probably something vintage, probably belonging to the Charter Crew.

  Goddamn it. How did I let myself get so fucked?

  I decide to try the last method, turning my body in the narrow space as panic threatens to overtake me. Don’t do it, Aaron. Don’t let your irrational phobia keep you from getting back to Bernadette. She’ll be so worried about you; she might get into trouble if you don’t hurry your ass up.

  Whoever put me in here, they were clearly in a hurry because they didn’t bother to tie me up. Big mistake. Even though my right leg is fucking killing me, I put my feet together and kick at the backseat of the car with every ounce of strength I have in me.

  Holy. Shit.

  Pain explodes behind my eyelids, and I clench my teeth together against a scream. I don’t need my captor knowing I’m in so much goddamn pain. Sucking in a deep breath, I ready myself to kick the backseat again when I hear footsteps from outside along with a pair of voices.

  I turn around, putting my feet towards the trunk. Depending on how many people are out there, I may be able to fight my way out of this. Or die trying, at the very least.

  There’s the sound of a key in a lock, and then the trunk is opening and I’m left staring up at Kali Rose-Kennedy, Ophelia Mars, and Tom Muller with a shotgun in his hand.

  “Aaron Fadler,” Ophelia murmurs, cocking her head to one side like a wolf observing its prey. It’s disturbing, how much like her Victor looks. Unlike Victor however, she has no heart and no soul. None at all. Looking into her dark eyes is like looking into a black hole, ready to crush you into a meaningless pulp and wipe you from existence.

  She scares the fuck out of me.

  “Ophelia,” I reply, as coolly and calmly as I can. This is not a good situation, but at least I’m out of the trunk, right? It’s dark out, so either I conked out for an entire day and into the next night, or it hasn’t been all that long since I was taken. “Fancy seeing you here.” My eyes swing over to Tom, wondering if I might be able to kick the shotgun from his hands before he shoots me. The thing is, I bet Ophelia and Kali both have weapons on them, too.

  “Why did you bring him here?” Ophelia asks, turning to Kali. She’s staring down at me with mud-brown eyes and a lazy smile. I’ve never liked her. Never. We’ve been going to school with her almost as long as we’ve been going with Bernadette. I know for a fact that Kali’s had a hard life, that her dad was an alcoholic who beat her and her mom. Still, she’s a shitty, petty person whose trauma has manifested into something wicked. I just straight up don’t fucking like her.

  “We can use him,” Kali explains, and it occurs to me then that she could very well be the person who hit me with their car, loaded me in the trunk, and brought me out here … wherever here is. There was a lot going on at the race; it’s possible that she was able to sneak away while I was having my ass kicked. Cal was too busy shooting people to pay attention. “Victor cares about him, just as much as he does Bernadette.” Kali scowls, the sound of my girl’s name like poison on her lips. “Mitch has definitely outlasted his usefulness, don’t you think? This will work much better.”

  Ophelia just stares down at me with crow-black eyes, contemplating. The way she studies me, it seems like it never occurred to her that I—or any of the other boys—could be valuable in her fight against Victor. The reason she thinks that is because she doesn’t care about anyone or anything; she probably assumed her son didn’t either.

  “He’s just a school friend; you should’ve killed him,” Ophelia says, and Tom scoots a bit closer, licking his lips, like he’s excited by the prospect of being able to blow my brains out with the shotgun.

  “No, it’s not like that with them,” Kali whines, and there’s just something in her voice that tells me she’d do anything to be a part of us, to become a Havoc Girl herself. We should never have indulged her price with Bernadette. Even though it goes against everything we stand for, we should’ve just spirited her away in the woods and buried her.

  I adjust my position and cringe; my entire body hurts. Seriously, there’s not a fucking part on me that doesn’t ache. My fingers subconsciously seek out the bullet wound on my shoulder that still isn’t healed all the way. It feels extra tender and sore right now.

  “How do you mean?” Ophelia asks, clearly losing her patience with Kali. She glances over at the girl, her makeup refined and elegant, her hair coiffed. It looks like she might’ve been on her way out the door to dinner or something. Ophelia, I mean, obviously. Kali looks like any random southside girl, her makeup too thick, her hoop earrings too big, tits hanging out, shorts up her ass crack. I mean, Bernie dresses like that sometimes, too, but it’s cute as fuck when she does it.

  Kali looks down at me, and there’s something in her expression that scares the fuck out of me.

  There’s a twisted, unearned, and unwanted sense of affection.

  “He’s not just a school friend to Victor,” Kali says with a sigh, reaching out to touch the side of my face. I jerk back from her and scowl, but I don’t say a word. Not a goddamn word. Ophelia and I do not have a good history together. Despite the fact that I held a knife to her throat at the beach house not all that long ago—I should’ve seriously killed her when I had the chance—we’ve had verbal brawls for years. “They’re like brothers. If we tell Vic that we have Aaron, he’ll do whatever you want.”

  Ophelia muses on this for a moment before glancing over at Tom. They exchange a look before she turns her dark gaze back on me.

  “I have a hard time believing that,” she murmurs, cocking her head slightly to one side. “But I suppose it’s worth trying. We can always kill him later.” She smiles at me, and it is most definitely the smile of a reptile. “Alright, Aaron. Get up and let’s go. I suppose you’ll get to see how much your little gang really means to my son. Unfortunately for you, I have a feeling you’re going to get a rude awakening.”

  Tom spins the shotgun around and before I can even think up a way out of this, he’s hitting me in the head with the butt of it and I’m slumping back down into the trunk.

  The last image I see before everything goes black is Bernadette, smiling at me.

  Bernadette Blackbird

  We spend the rest of the night and all of the next day looking for Aaron.

  We find absolutely nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  I can’t sleep the following night, pacing the floor in the living room and running my hand over my face to swipe away the tears.

  “Bernie,” Callum says softly, slipping in the back door in his hoodie and shorts. He’s been out for hours, searching fruitlessly. I go stone-still, waiting for whatever information he’s brought back with him. When Cal looks away from me, my heart shatters, and my knees go weak.

  “Where is he, Cal?” I whisper, but Callum just turns back to me, his blue gaze glittering in the moonlight. Hael is asleep on the couch beside me while Oscar sits in the chair between the two sofas. Victor steps onto the porch behind Callum, face drawn, mouth in a thin, flat line. “Where is he?” I repeat, trying not to get hysterical.

  We all saw Aaron get pulled out of the car; we all saw him flee into the woods.

  So where the fuck is he? He’s not at any of the boys’ regular rendezvous points. He hasn’t called us. He isn’t coming home. This is my worst nightmare come true. Just thinking about the possibility that something happened to him …

  “I’m sorry, Bernadette,” Cal whispers, voice even huskier and more broken than usual, like glass in a graveyard. “If anyone should’ve been spirited away, it should’ve been me.” He closes his eyes and slumps against the doorframe while Vic pushes the slider open the rest of the way and stalks in.

  I don’t know how to tell Callum that I could never choose between him and Aaron. Regardless of who went missing, I would feel this way.
Then again, what do I tell the girls? I’m not sure I could ever look either of them in the face again if something were to happen to their brother, something that can’t be undone …

  “He’ll turn up,” Vic says, like he’s so fucking sure of himself. “If someone had him, we’d have heard already. He’s a pretty valuable hostage, don’t you think?”

  “We just blew up one of the Charters’ cars and exploded several of their crew member’s skulls with a rifle. If they do have Aaron, he’s probably dead.” There is no inflection in Oscar’s voice, none at all. My heart finally gives up and dies, and I crash to my knees on the floor in front of the fireplace.

  “Goddamn it, Oscar,” Victor snarls as Hael snaps to, rubbing his hand down his face.

  “Aaron back yet?” he asks, blinking around at us as we sit in the dark together. When nobody answers him, Hael curses under his breath and stands up. He musses up his hair with both hands and starts off on a tirade that’s entirely in French; I don’t even begin to try to follow it. “So what the fuck do we do now? We’ve never lost a member of Havoc before, Vic.”

  “No shit,” Victor snarls as I sit there and think about how afraid I was when Aaron was bleeding out for me. I should’ve realized it then, when he threw himself in front of a goddamn bullet for me. It was never Cal that I needed to be afraid for; it was my ex-boyfriend.

  The ex never lives to see the end of the movie, right?

  Putting my face in my hands, I try to get my shit together. I know logically that it’s safer for me to wait here, in case he shows up or we get a phone call or something, but it’s so fucking hard. All I want to do is put on some tennis shoes, head outside, and start running until I find him. Theoretically, Ophelia is trying to have me killed, but I’m not sure that I care right now.

  All that matters is Aaron.