by Tijan
I was bringing him down. I was holding him back.
I was spiraling.
Cursing, Cross reached in front of me to open a closet door, and he pushed me inside. It was dark, and he didn’t bother turning the light on.
This was perfect. The darkness. His mouth was on mine two seconds after he pushed me up against the door.
Oomph!
I had one second of notice, and then I was slammed with lust. It scorched me, doubling what it’d been moments ago. I felt like I was going to explode as I kissed him back.
“Cross,” I moaned.
He only kissed me. He didn’t stop, and I couldn’t do anything except go along for the ride.
It felt so good, all of it. The way he held the side of my face. The way his lips pressed against mine, his chest against mine. How I felt his strength, his power, his determination as he drew in a breath. His lips never left mine.
“Whatever you’re thinking—” He ripped his mouth away, but only to take a ragged breath before he moved back for more. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to feel the ramifications, but I know you’re slipping away.”
I closed my eyes, though it didn’t matter. There was darkness all around.
He was talking to that voice inside of me, and he was right. She was there. She reared her head again. She was the firefly coming to me in the dark. She beckoned, wanting me to follow her, and that was a different seduction altogether.
I could stop it. I could stop her, but sometimes it was hard. Sometimes she was the only one with me over the years, she’d been all I had at times.
“Cross.” My hands found his waist. I could feel his stomach trembling under my touch.
“Bren.” My name was a whisper. He kissed a trail down my jawline, over my throat, lingering where my shirt met my chest. I’d worn a tank top today, and I was thankful for how low the cleavage dipped.
It was now my favorite shirt.
I ran my hands up his chest, skimming over his arms, and slipped them under his sleeves. His biceps moved, shifting under my touch, like I had awakened them.
His hand slid to the back of my neck and he held me. He straightened. I could feel his lips against my forehead, but he waited.
God.
I didn’t want to.
I liked her. Whenever she showed up, I was protected. I was shielded. She protected me from the pain, the hurt. I didn’t want to give that up.
“Bren, please.” Cross’ lips dipped back down to mine. I felt his breath. “Don’t go.”
Don’t go.
His words repeated in my head.
I felt a strength I didn’t know I had, bolstered from somewhere, flowing through me. And like an unconscious flip of a switch, the firefly was leaving again.
He’d pushed her away.
I missed her as soon as I felt her go, because I was raw once again. I was exposed.
I dropped my head to his chest. Cross wrapped his arms around me and rocked me back and forth, his hand sweeping up and down my back.
“Thank you.”
When we left that closet, we didn’t hold hands.
We walked straight and tall to the office together.
“You want me to do what?”
The new principal, Ken Brohgers, stared back at me from across his desk. They made Cross go back to class. He’d glanced to me, and I nodded, thinking it’d be fine. They said I wasn’t in trouble. That was the only reason I was okay with Cross going. There’d been too much bad shit associated with it in the past. They said I wasn’t in trouble, and this meeting was “absolutely necessary.” Only good things would come of it.
What a crock of bullshit.
Principal Brohgers was almost as opposite of Neeon as possible. Mr. N was tall, six- three, and Brohgers barely topped five three. That wasn’t true. He just looked like that sitting behind his desk. He was probably five-five when he stood up, with a head full of frizzy hair that was losing its reddish tint so it was half white at the same time. His face started off as round, then finished with a long and pointed chin. He had thick bushy eyebrows that jutted out over his eyes, which were wide-set and narrow. In his older fifties, Ken Brohgers was a thin rail of a man.
Superintendent Miller sat next to him, and they shared a look.
“Your father’s lawyer reached out to the school because he’s a part of a mentoring program,” Principal Brohgers said again. “They would like to include our school, but there are stipulations since you’re a student here. Normally you would be someone we’d ask to have included in the program—”
“No!” My decision was made before he finished.
I knew these programs. Convicts were supposed to mentor troubled kids until they went straight. It wasn’t happening. I didn’t give a rat’s ass if my father’s lawyer or anyone else thought I was troubled. That was the pot calling the kettle black.
“You guys need my brother’s permission to even be asking me this.”
“Well…” They looked at each other again.
The superintendent leaned forward this time. “That’s the purpose of this meeting. We’d like to approach your brother about the program itself.”
“Why? I already said I’m not going to do it.”
“No, no.” Principal Brohgers cleared his throat. He scooted even closer to his desk and placed his arms on top. “We’d like to work with the crews, get all of them integrated with this program.”
Horror lodged in my throat—one big ball I couldn’t swallow or spit out. I had to suffer it.
“Are you kidding me?” That was a horrible idea.
“It’s not a bad program—”
“Let me guess,” I managed, still reeling inside. “You want to fix the crews, work with the older members and have them encourage younger members to go to this prison, get mentored by a convict, and learn how to be nice. Right? No more bad crews?”
They just stared at me.
I couldn’t have been far off, so I stood up. If I didn’t get out of here, I was going to say things that would get me suspended again. Or worse.
“I have to go.” I started for the door.
“Wait!” Principal Brohgers stood as well, his hand extended as if he could physically stop me. “Don’t go. Please. We want to work with you guys. We don’t want to continue down this path.”
I stopped and turned around. “What do you mean by ‘this path’?”
Superintendent Miller scratched behind his ear, looking everywhere except at me.
“Bren.”
I heard the appeasing voice that adults used when they were about to promise you daisies, yet hand you rotten weeds.
I wasn’t going to like this, whatever it was.
He tugged at his collar. “Uh…we realize the crew system began because there was a need to uproot a power alliance at this school. While we can understand the attraction crews have for certain students, you have to understand our concern with them.”
My mouth was dry. The flame was there, a small flicker.
“Certain students?” I echoed their words.
“Troubled students.”
The flicker burst into a full-fledged fire. It was heating me up. I knew who they meant—kids like me, who had violent tendencies, who had no futures, who were going nowhere in life. Prison or six feet under. Those kids.
“That’s who you think joins crews?” I asked. “Those kind of kids.”
“Well, yeah.” The principal gave me a blank look. He had no idea how wrong that statement was.
“I see.”
The firefly returned. She flew in, bringing the darkness with her. I felt it rising, coating my insides, blanketing me. It molded with the fire. I closed my eyes a moment, letting her take over. Once she had, I couldn’t be touched. They couldn’t hurt me anymore.
I stood and began to leave.
“Bren.”
I didn’t know which one spoke. I didn’t care.
I reached for the door handle, and I left.
I
didn’t turn back.
The bell must’ve rung. A line of students started to leave their classrooms.
“Bren?”
I walked right past Taz, then Tabatha and the others as they left their room. Students slowed, casting me looks of confusion, of irritation, of concern.
I ignored every single one.
I went to my locker. I got my bag and keys, and I left. I was in the parking lot when Cross shouted my name, hurrying behind me.
I didn’t want to see him. He’d try to shake her hold on me. She protected me. He just wanted me to be open to more pain. I couldn’t.
I held up a hand. “Don’t, Cross. Not this time.”
He caught up to me. “What happened?”
I kept walking. I had ten feet to go. Only ten. It seemed the length of a football field.
“Bren! Hey!”
That was Jordan. I had no doubt Zellman was with him. My crew had come for me, but I couldn’t this time. They couldn’t protect me from this like the darkness did. The darkness, that firefly, had another name, one I’d put out of my mind.
Things were better. Channing was acting like a real brother. He loved me.
My crew was with me. I was with Cross.
I should’ve been happy. I shouldn’t have any need for her, but her hold was so strong. Her hooks were in, and they weren’t letting go, not until it was safe again to come out. I opened the door of my Jeep and got inside.
“Bren, stop!”
Cross blocked me from shutting the door.
Jordan and Zellman stood behind him. But I only shoved him back and shut the door. I put my keys into the ignition. I turned. The engine came on, and I put it in reverse.
The passenger door opened.
“Get out!” I yelled.
Cross climbed in, shutting the door and glaring. “Not a fucking chance.”
“Leave, Cross!” She cracked. She let emotion ring out in my voice. “You heard our teacher. You can be someone. You can do things. Why are you here?” I shook my head. “You shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”
“Stop it.” His jaw clenched.
“Get out.”
“No.”
“Cross!”
“No.”
He put his seatbelt on, and the doors in the back opened. Both Jordan and Zellman got inside.
Jordan leaned back. “Just drive, Bren. We’re with you whether you want us or not.”
I laughed hollowly, but I couldn’t make them leave.
I really had no option. I was easing back when someone rapped on my side window.
I braked. It was Alex. I lowered the window.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“What happened in there?”
“Walk, Ryerson.” A low warning came from Cross. He wasn’t messing around.
I began putting the window back up, but Alex clamped a hand over it. I would’ve cut his fingers if I kept going. That was tempting, but Channing had said later for Alex.
I stopped my window. “Leave me alone.”
“What happened in there?” He wasn’t moving.
“It’s none of your business—” Jordan began.
“I heard it had to do with the crews, not just yours. I want to know what it was about.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, briskly. He sounded frustrated. “Bren, you need to tell me. If it’s all crews, you have a duty.”
I felt her rallying in me. She didn’t want me to feel or think or care. She wanted me to be numb to the world.
But Alex was staring me in the face, and I was surrounded by my crew. Her hold was slipping. Feeling the darkness draw back down, I could almost see the firefly moving away.
“They want to fix us,” I said quietly.
A vein stuck out from the side of Alex’s neck. “Fix who? How?”
“Us. The troubled kids, the ones who are going to prison or underground. They want us to be better.”
“Say what?”
Cross cursed under his breath.
“What the fuck?” Jordan roared. “That’s what they said?”
“They want us to be mentored by convicts.” And the real kicker… “My dad is one of the ones in the program.”
“They want you to be in the program?” Cross asked.
“They wanted me to ask Channing to get all the crews involved.”
“You serious? We’re all troubled kids?” Alex barked.
That was the implication, yes. I let him figure it out.
He cursed, and I swore I saw an actual red glint in his eyes before he stepped away from my Jeep.
“Where are you going?” Cross called.
Jordan and Zellman had stood up in the back of my Jeep. They were quiet, watching whatever was going to unfold, but not Cross. He hopped out of my vehicle and darted in front of Alex, forcing him to stop.
“Think, Alex. Think first.”
Alex tried to go around him.
Cross moved too, still blocking him.
“Fucking hell, Cross. Get back. I mean it.”
That was enough for the rest of us. I slammed the Jeep into park and yanked the keys out. Jordan and Zellman scrambled out, coming up behind Alex. I was there a second later.
Cross put a hand up, holding us off.
“They’re wrong, Alex,” he coaxed. “We all know they’re wrong. We’re not worthless. We’re not the bullies. All those words are attached to the word troubled. We get that. They don’t. We’re not wrong.”
“They need to learn.” Alex growled in his throat, starting around Cross again.
This time, I hurried forward to stand side by side with Cross, adding to his wall.
“Really, Bren?”
I nodded. “Listen to him. He’s smarter than all of us.”
Cross glanced at me as he continued. “Alex, they’re the uneducated ones. They’re adults who don’t see grey. They only see black and white. You go in there and do what you’re going to do, you’re confirming their assumptions. They’ll put us all in the wrong category. We’re not wrong. We’re not worthless.”
“You’re not!” Alex shot back, that vein sticking out again. “They love you. Everyone loves you. You’re lethal as hell, but you get away with it because you’re smart, and you look like a pretty boy. You don’t get stereotyped like the rest of us.”
“You think that matters to me?”
Now Cross was pissed. His eyes narrowed.
A shiver wound down my spine.
“You’re talking to me like I’m not in the trenches with you,” Cross said softly. He looked to Jordan, Zellman, and me. “Like I don’t bleed when my crew bleeds.”
“You know what I mean,” Alex huffed.
Cross got in his face, forcing him to step back toward Jordan and Zellman.
“No, I don’t,” he said with a scary quiet that promised he was about to strike. “Why don’t you spell it out for me? I want to make sure you didn’t just insult me to my face.”
Alex swallowed, taking note of his surroundings. We’d attracted a crowd as soon as I left, and now it seemed to have doubled. A new wave of awareness rippled through them. It wasn’t a student-teacher fight like before. Word would spread that the Wolves were pushing around the Ryerson crew’s leader.
“You know what I meant.” Alex looked at the ground.
Cross didn’t let up. “Then don’t fuck up the rest of our crews,” he hissed. “You want to watch something burn, you wait until we can’t get in trouble for it. Going in there, starting whatever shit you want to start—that’s going to have effects for all of us. Not just you. They’re going to blame Bren for whatever you do.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Alex didn’t have it in him to stand down. But he was keeping it together. He was a bull being told not to leave the pen while the door was wide open. He was stomping on the ground, wanting to charge.
But he was listening.
“Wait.”
One word. That’s all Cross said.
“They insulted
all of us,” he added after a moment. “They’ll be educated on their mistake. But wait until we figure it out.”
“Wait for what?”
“For me!” Cross snapped. “You wait until I tell you the plan.”
Alex nearly snarled, but he clamped his mouth shut and swung away from us. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked off.
It took a second of silence, but Cross glanced around. Everyone was staring at him.
“What?” he snarled. “What are you looking at?”
I’d always seen this side of Cross, but everyone else was seeing it now.
I looked to Jordan, and he lifted his head, pride raising his chin.
He said, “We’re staring at our leader.”
Around a bonfire pit behind Manny’s that night, we filled Channing in on everything. When I told him we needed to talk, he’d said the crowd would be less bloodthirsty in Fallen Crest than at his own bar.
“He called you troubled?” Channing asked, his nostrils flaring.
Cross, Jordan, and Zellman sat with me, and three of Channing’s own crew had come: Chad, Moose, and Congo.
I nodded. The words weren’t coming. I didn’t feel like speaking.
“They want all crews to do this program?”
I stopped interacting. It burned a hole each time I had to remember.
Cross sat on top of a picnic table beside me. “All crews. That’s what she said.”
Channing frowned, not saying anything for a moment. He shared looks with the rest of his crew before he nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Wait.” Jordan pushed up from the wall he’d been leaning against. “That’s it? Just thank you?”
Channing lifted his hands. “What do you expect? We’re not in high school anymore.”
“But…” Jordan looked at Channing’s crew. “You guys are, like, the godfathers of crews. You’re the longest-running crew there is.” He turned to my brother. “You created the system. You have to help us.”
“Look.” Channing stepped toward him. “It’s an after-school program. There’s not much we can do except maybe help you start a petition so they don’t only target crew kids. Other than that, I’ll be honest. I’m not sure it’s a bad idea. You guys would be talking to convicts. I think every teenager should go through that. The more information you get, the better.”