by Tijan
“Yeah,” one of the guys grunted.
I shot Jordan a look.
He had covered his mouth. He kept silently laughing as the teacher stood to start the lesson. The two guys turned around, but I punched Jordan in the arm.
A girl gasped.
I knew people were watching.
Jordan still had his head down, and I leaned close to him. “Thanks for that.”
He sat up, wiping a hand over his mouth. His laughter had subsided, slightly.
“Come on. They like you. It’s cute.”
Cute. I winced.
I did angry. I did hostile, violent. I did fucked-up.
I didn’t do cute.
I was sitting at a table in the library for study hall when Cross walked in. He pulled his hood down over his face.
Oh yeah. He was still hung over.
“Mr. Shaw.” Mr. Penski’s voice boomed across the library. “What are you doing in here?”
Cross slowed, raising his head so Penski could see his face better. A slight cocky swagger came out, and he held up a piece of paper. “I’m transferring seventh period, Mr. Penski.”
“Uh-huh.” A scoff of disbelief. Mr. Penski took the piece of paper. His frown moved from Cross to me. “If there’s trouble…”
He let the threat go unsaid, but Cross nodded and headed my way.
He sat across from me, glancing over his shoulder.
Mr. Penski and the librarian were both watching.
I understood why.
If something happened to one of us, the other would jump in to help. It could get messy, and it had at times. The recent brawl at Manny’s was evidence of that, but this was study hall. And we were in the library. Chances of anything happening were slim to none.
“You switched?” I asked. He’d come to school fifth period, showing up during lunch.
“Ryerson’s been cocking off in Latin this week. Getting worse than it was before. Figured it was better if I wasn’t in there.”
“Really?”
He surveyed the room and saw the Ryerson cousin. His top lip curved. “I didn’t know this one was in here.”
Race had been watching us, but hearing Cross, he picked up his stuff and came over to our table. He sat next to me, facing Cross.
“You talking about me?”
Cross shot back, “Yeah.” His hazel eyes darkened; they almost looked brown.
The chances of something happening were going up, and judging by the others watching, they knew it too. I caught the same looks I saw every time a crew scuffle broke out. People should start carrying popcorn with them.
“Say it to my face then.”
I had to give props to Race. He wasn’t flinching.
Cross seemed pissed, and this side of him was scary, dangerously scary.
“Your cousin is getting a big fucking mouth, and I’m not enjoying it.” Cross leaned back, raising his chin. “We going to have the same problem with you?”
Race’s lips pressed together. “When are you going to get it?” He glanced at me. “Anyway I thought he was being fine. He’s been good all week.”
Cross narrowed his eyes.
“Cross,” I started, dropping my voice. Too many people were trying to eavesdrop. “I—”
“We can talk later,” he said to Race. “Your cousin was going on about how his crew is the biggest and baddest. You seem to have put yourself in the middle for whatever reason, but if Alex keeps saying the shit he’s saying, there’s going to be a crew war. You ready for that?”
Race’s mouth opened an inch. He was surprised, but I wasn’t. Sadly.
This was Alex being Alex.
Yes, he’d apologized after the one fight, but his head had been swelling steadily since then. I wasn’t surprised to hear any of this.
Normal Alex was cocky all the time.
He liked to start fights.
He seemed to have developed amnesia after his apology. He’d stayed away from me, but the guy who’d seemed like a leader was nowhere to be found now.
“Is there a problem here?”
Mr. Penski had materialized at our table.
Cross leaned back. He kicked his feet out and shook his head. “Nah. We’re fine.” He and Race shared a look. “Just getting on the same page, that’s all.”
Mr. Penski swung his gaze to Alex’s cousin.
“Yeah.” He gestured to Cross. “What he said. Same page. We’re besties now.”
“Mmmm-hmmm. I’m sure you are.” Our teacher held his pen in the air. “I won’t tolerate any crew business—not this year, not anymore. This is a zero-violence area.” He ambled back to the librarian’s desk, his hands out like he was talking to himself.
Cross shook his head. “They talk like we ran the school before. It was never like that.”
“The cameras are new,” I pointed out.
He glanced over. “Still, though. We could never fight in a class. Why are they so anti-crew this year? It’s like it’s their new theme.”
“Maybe it is,” Race said.
We turned to him.
He held his hands up like he was surrendering. “My stupid cousin aside, maybe Principal Neeon went to a summer seminar? Bullying is a big deal now. He could’ve gotten that twisted so he thinks crews are the bullies. Or they’re treating you like you’re gangs.”
Cross snorted. “We’re not gangs. There’s no blood in and blood out bullshit. The most illegal crap we do is drinking. We protect our own above anything else—that’s the only similarity. That’s what a crew does.” His gaze went to a table were a few jocks were sitting. I recognized one as the football player who’d been talking to Jordan in class before. “If anyone’s going to bully, it’s them.”
“You’re stereotyping.” Race grinned.
Cross shrugged. “I stand by what I said. We’re not the bullies.” He nodded to me. “Can you imagine the target that’d be on our backs if we were?” Then his smile fell away. “But Alex is starting to shoot his mouth off. He could be a problem for all crews if he doesn’t rein it in.”
“You don’t think he can handle being their leader?” I looked at Race, but spoke to Cross, “You think maybe he could talk to Drake?”
“About what?” Race asked. “I’m not crew. He won’t talk to me about that, not unless I join theirs.”
Cross narrowed his eyes, tilting his head toward me. “Jordan will push you on this. Do you want to talk to Drake? The guy’s right.” He nodded at Race. “Drake won’t talk to him unless he’s in the crew.”
I wanted to growl. Cross had gentled his tone because he knew this was the only course of action. If Alex kept popping off, I might have to reach out.
I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to deal with Drake again.
But I nodded. “If I have to, I will.”
Race nudged my arm with the back of his hand. “I could go with you.”
I didn’t respond, but shared a look with Cross. He knew I wouldn’t want him there. If I wanted anyone with me, it’d be Cross. But it was a moot point. Drake wouldn’t talk if Race was there. If anyone should go, it should be my brother. Channing could scare Drake into talking, but that meant I’d have to spend more time than I already was with the new brother-extraordinaire persona.
Thumbs down to that.
I lifted a shoulder in response to Race’s suggestion.
After that we got down to business—we actually studied. For all the trouble we caused, we weren’t bad students. Usually. Or Cross wasn’t. And judging by Race’s notes, he seemed like a good student too. And it wasn’t that I was a bad student, just not super motivated. Twenty minutes in, they were both reading, and I was watching the other students—the good ones according to the school’s staff and administration. I wasn’t a part of the normal universe, but from where I sat, I had a feeling they were just like us. Maybe worse in some ways too.
Cross was right. My gaze switched to the jock table. I remembered walking to a basketball game and seeing some of those guys stuff tw
o freshman into lockers.
If my crew had done that, there would’ve been a reason. And it wouldn’t have been those two guys that got stuffed. They’d been the nerd types. I had a hard time imagining either of them doing anything that would cause us to go after them.
“You okay?” Cross had been watching me.
Race lifted his head too.
At Cross’ question, Sunday and Monica looked over. I saw the envy flash in their eyes and sighed.
No. I’d never trade places.
If that’s what it meant to be normal or a good student, I didn’t want it. They didn’t have the loyalty I got every day.
When Cross asked if I was okay, he meant it. He wasn’t asking so he could mock me later—something I’d heard Sunday do plenty of times.
I nodded to Cross. “We should hang out with your sister more often.”
His head moved back an inch. “Where’d that come from?”
Race looked over to where my attention had been focused.
“She asked for my help,” I told him. “I think I might actually do it.”
I watched Sunday and Monica again. They bent their heads together, whispering.
Cross narrowed his eyes. “Are you serious? The Badger thing?”
“Yeah.”
Fuck. I’d end up in jail. Somehow.
“My dad can be one of the sponsors,” Race offered.
I was headed to the parking lot after study hall, and he had fallen in step with me.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“My dad’s kinda wealthy. He owns a Harley-Davidson store, and it does well. It does really well.”
“How do you even know about the sponsorship stuff, though?”
He ducked his head, a little sheepishly. “One of the girls already asked me. I’m assuming Alex told someone about my dad. He and my mom are divorcing. That’s why we’re here, and there’s an underground fighting ring here. I wanted to get involved with that.”
His dad was rich. That meant he was rich, and he was going to fight like my brother?
I shouldn’t like this guy, but for some ungodly reason, he was starting to grow on me. Like an annoying itch.
I stopped in the middle of the parking lot. “Are you offering your help because you want to get to my brother?”
“Wha-what?”
“Channing Monroe. He’s a big fighter—”
“No, I know.” He shook his head, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “No. No, not at all. I just—I don’t know. I wanted to help. Besides, when Cross’ twin sister asks a crew girl for help with her charity event, word spreads fast.” His eyes slid to the right as we passed some of Sunday’s friends. “They sit behind me in chemistry, and trust me, they’re not quiet. Just tell me the amount you need, and I’ll email him.” He added, “He’ll do anything I want. He thinks I can talk my mom into going back to him.”
“Yo!”
Jordan was moving fast behind us. He swooped in, and before Race could look behind him, Jordan’s arm was around his shoulders, pulling him forward. He forced Race to move with him.
Zellman and Cross trailed behind him, and both sliding me looks as they passed.
Jordan had a bug up his ass. I didn’t know what was going on, but I sighed and fell in line.
Jordan half-walked, half-dragged Race to the opposite end of the lot. Once we were tucked on the other side of his truck, he let him go.
Race shoved him away, scooting backward. Alarm filtered over his face, his eyebrows pinching together. “What’s going on?”
Jordan bent down a little, so he was almost looking Race in the eye. He wagged his finger between Race and me, making a tsking sound. “Is this a thing? The two of you?”
I flung my arms in the air. “Again?!”
“Yes, again.” Jordan’s smile had an edge to it. His arm went around Race’s neck before he could move out of the way. Race struggled, so Jordan tightened his arm. If he’d bent over again, it would’ve been a chokehold. “I called him out on Tuesday, and he didn’t deny it. You did, Bren, but not him. He never denied a thing, and now he’s sniffing around your pants again.” He turned to Race, jostling him a little. “I’d really like to know why.” He cast a look at Cross, adding, “I don’t think I’m the only one.”
Cross met my gaze, but his eyes were shielded. He wasn’t letting me in.
I gritted my teeth.
I wasn’t some helpless, hapless little girl. I didn’t need this big-brother act Jordan was doing. He could watch Race. He could be suspicious of him, and hell, he could even give him crap. One time. Not a second time. And not when we were almost in front of an audience. We were hidden by his big truck, but people always watched us. People would’ve noticed Jordan’s fast walk over here, how he’d had his arm around Race.
I was betting we had five minutes before Alex showed up.
Cross stepped up next to me, his arm brushing against mine. He lowered his head, but his eyes were locked on Race. “Jordan, you know why Race is in town? Why he’s here in the first place?”
Fuck.
I recognized that tone. It was low and chilling. It was the same he’d been using in the library, and I realized now he’d just checked his attitude. He’d been waiting for this. And that fucker, he must’ve planned this during that time.
Jordan frowned, becoming still. “No. Why?”
I waited, wondering how he knew about the divorce.
Race started to smirk.
Jordan saw his reaction and looked back at Cross. His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head.
Cross gestured to Race. “He’s here for the underground fighting ring.”
Jordan went a whole new level of still.
People from all over came to Roussou to fight, and to watch, and those who were serious about the ring were good fighters. Crew members could fight. We’d had our fair share of tussles, and we could handle ourselves, but underground ring fighting was a whole different situation.
Those guys were out for blood.
If someone fought there and stuck around, they could do serious damage outside of the ring as well. There were no official rules. They could fight outside the ring, and Jordan finally started to put two and two together.
He let go of Race and drew away from him. “You’re a fighter?”
There was dark amusement in Race’s eyes, and he nodded before skimming a look over Cross and me. His top lip curved, just a bit. “I am.”
“You good?”
There was some hesitation, but then Race nodded. “I am.”
It was almost karmic for Jordan to be nervous now, but a part of me felt for him. Jordan was pushing Race’s buttons because he was the new guy, but also because of me. Mostly, however, I think Jordan was doing it because he could.
I started to feel better about this confrontation until Cross stepped forward.
Both his hands were in his sweatshirt pockets, and his shoulders were stiff and taut. Race could fight. I’d seen enough to know it was true, but the one guy who could go toe to toe with him was Cross.
Race’s quiet confidence was nothing compared to the air that radiated off Cross.
He was dangerous.
And when Race’s chest rose and stayed, I knew he was feeling it too.
Cross was also still furious, but I hadn’t figured out the reason—that is until he started speaking.
It was quiet, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
Whether Race realized it or not, he was treading dangerous ground with Cross.
The rest of us stood back and let him talk. We’d learned to shut up when Cross had something to say, when he was in this mood. He didn’t strike, unless there was a reason. And there was always a good reason when he did.
“I’m saying that because I see you.” He took another step forward. As he did, Jordan backed out, so it was now Race facing us with only Cross in front of him. It was almost a conversation between the two of them, but knowing Cross, he did this to send another mes
sage. He didn’t need us to back him up. He didn’t need us to help him. He could stand on his own just fine and Race swallowed, seeming to get it.
His throat moving up and down. “I get it.”
“No.” Cross shook his head briskly. “You don’t get it. You’re around us, a lot. You’re around Bren, a lot. You’re putting your nose in our business. You’re standing up to your cousin for us? We didn’t ask you for that. It’s to the point now where we have to acknowledge you and the ‘help’ you’re giving us, but that’s not how we work. You want to be crew, you straight up say it. We decide then. Not you. You don’t worm your way in with us. You don’t get to try to weasel your way in.” He straightened up, but his hands remained in his sweatshirt pockets. With his hood still on, he was the image of a bad boy facing off against a threat.
Shivers snaked their way down my spine, turning into a throb in my stomach. That throb was moving lower, and I flattened my hand against my stomach. I hadn’t felt this before, with anyone.
I moved to the side so I could see Cross’ face. I almost couldn’t look away. He was entrancing, the way his chin jutted up defiantly and his nostrils flared, how he looked down his nose at Race.
He was pushing back a foe, one maybe we hadn’t seen before. Cross was right. Race had been slinking his way in, and as if feeling my thoughts, he looked my way.
He shook his head. “I didn’t—I offered to help because I want to help. There’s no agenda. I mean it.”
“Bullshit.”
Race focused on Cross again. “I mean it. I don’t want anything from you guys. My parents are divorcing. That’s the real reason we’re here. The fighting ring is a bonus. It’s a way to piss off my dad, to be completely honest. But I do like fighting, and yeah, I mean…” His eyes cast down. He rolled his shoulders back. “God. I don’t know. Maybe I did have an agenda. Drake told me to stick close to you guys if I wanted protection. I don’t want to join my cousin’s crew. They’re not the good ones. I’ve heard them. I’ve been around them. They’re turning into the bad crew.” He stopped again, licking his lips, his throat moving up and down. “Shit. You’re right. I was trying to weasel my way in.” A fleeting panic pulled at his face. “I’m sorry. I am. I know that’s how you guys are. I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking it through. Drake said you guys were the ones to be friends with.”