“Brayshaw!” the coach yells, but Royce ignores him.
I cut a quick glance at Maddoc and Captain, but they stay back, letting him do his thing.
“Man, let’s go. We’ve got a game to win,” a guy from the other team boldly – or stupidly – shouts and Royce whips around, the wild ass look in his eyes caught from here.
Within seconds he’s shoving the dude in the chest, hard enough where the guy falls back against his teammates and I sit up straight, ready for a fucking brawl, but this is Bray’s house, Brayshaw’s town – nobody dares move closer. Nobody except Royce.
“Get in my face again, motherfucker, and you’ll be eatin’ metal.”
The ref throws his hands out, a cautious look in his eyes as he officially ejects Royce from the game.
He flips him off with both hands and stomps over to the bench. He grabs his hoodie and water bottle, throwing it at the other team’s coach, then slams his way through the gym door leading to their locker room.
Bass catches my eye and narrows his, but I dismiss him.
He can blame me all he wants for this shit show, he’s just as guilty and he knows it. All he had to do was go to them with the news about the video, but he came to me instead.
I mean, I appreciate it, but I won’t take his judgmental bullshit when he can right his wrong any time he wants. My guess, though, is he’s not bold enough to know that he already held back information from the three who trust him with their dealings and money flow.
Maybe they shouldn’t.
I find Maddoc on the court, who happens to look over right as I do, but he quickly cuts his eyes back, sliding into position before the ball is in motion again.
The way they’re playing is completely my fault, I know that. I stressed them out, kept them up for almost two days now – doubt any of them slept last night. I know I didn’t.
Maybe they’re having a bad game today, but at least they got to play in it, right? I mean, if the video of the four of us getting frisky while also breaking into the Graven cabin was released, they could have been dropped from the team or be in juvenile hall or something.
There was no need to risk those outcomes when I was able to prevent it.
I’m realistic enough to understand my place in the world, and maybe it wouldn’t have happened today or tomorrow, but the end game is never the girl from the ghetto ending up in a mansion to stay. I know that, and I accept it.
I’ll admit though, I didn’t expect the distance to sting so quick.
Maddoc hasn’t spoken a word to me all day, Royce or Captain either, and they still have no clue what’s in motion.
I can’t even begin to imagine what happens from here, but the damage is done, and I’d do it again if I had to.
I shake off my thoughts and focus back on the game.
Asshole Leo makes a basket and everyone cheers. With a new shot of energy now flowing through the room, all eyes trail the Brayshaw Wolves as they follow the other team down the court.
One of our guys leaps up, blocking the shot attempt, and the ball falls into our hands. The Brayshaw player heads toward their basket, faking a throw down court only to toss it back to Maddoc, who shoots and makes a solid three-pointer.
The crowd jumps to their feet in excitement.
Elbows are thrown around, rougher than should be allowed, but after Royce’s blow up, the referees seem not to want to call fouls on either team.
With Maddoc’s new lead, the Wolves are fighting back.
There are seventeen seconds on the clock – a lifetime in basketball.
Come on, Big Man.
I lift my chin to see over the teammates who hop to their feet in front of me, jerking my head to the side when Principal Perkins plants himself directly at my side.
“Hello, Raven.”
Unease washes over me, but I force my eyes back to the court, and sure as shit, amongst the crazy, Maddoc and Captain both spotted the piece of shit move my way.
“What do you want, Perkins?”
“I got a very interesting transfer slip on my desk this morning, Ms. Carver.”
I freeze, and I’m pretty sure my eyes widen, because Maddoc’s frown deepens, but he takes off, the ball now in his hand and I shift to see him better.
In the same second, Perkins lays his hand on my arm, and I spin, yanking away from him.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I spit through clenched teeth and a mocking laugh leaves him.
The crowd groans and when my eyes flash back to the court, Maddoc’s hands are swiping down his face in frustration, the ball now with the opposing team as the final buzzer sounds.
“Thanks for all your help, Ms. Carver.”
“Don’t get it twisted,” I force through clenched teeth. “I’d never do a damn thing to purposely help you.”
He steps down, turning back to face me as he does. “You have a good night. Can’t wait for the next game.” He smirks and walks away.
I wish I could tackle his ass to the ground.
I look to the scoreboard.
There goes Brayshaw High’s Varsity Basketball team’s perfect record. The last chance the boys had at a seamless high school season.
Everyone will assume they simply couldn’t pull it off, they’ll say they were bound to have an off game at some point during the season.
Nobody around knows about the events of this weekend.
I had more than a few curious glances in school today, caught several staring at the cut on my lip and bruise on the side of my face that started to show even more the longer the day went on. The concealer I have is cheap, so I couldn’t keep it covered all day. When you mix my appearance with the way the four of us sat staring into space at lunch today, the crazy of tonight’s game, and Perkins’ fake friendly smiles just now, I guarantee the rumor ring’s firing on all cylinders right now. Not to mention how the three are known to tune out the world when on the court in uniform and were seen paying more mind to me than the game tonight. Yeah, people are gonna talk.
Fuck them.
I don’t even consider moving from my seat as the team exits and the crowd disperses.
As I expected, Bass attempts to talk to me, but I shake my head and look away. He knows damn well I’m not interested in his backward worries – too little too late.
The guys take longer than normal in the locker room this time, likely getting reamed by their coach, and when they do come out, they’re the only ones to step through the double doors.
All three sets of eyes zone in on me, making sure I’m still where they left me.
They slow their steps enough for me to catch up and together we head for Captain’s Denali.
Once we’re all seated, they take a few deep breaths before turning the engine over.
My stomach turns as anxiousness begins to grow inside me.
Any time now they’ll start in, demanding answers, and no matter how many times I’ve played out the conversation in my head, preparing myself for possible questions and coming up with preplanned answers, none of them are believable.
I’m not even sure I could flat out lie to their faces when it came down to it.
Thankfully, they seem just as damn done with the day as me.
Captain heads straight for the house, dinner is skipped, and everyone moves for their own rooms. They lock themselves inside, so I do the same.
I throw myself back on the mattress, sucking in a lung full of air.
Perkins said he got a transfer form on his desk today. That happened so much faster than I anticipated.
My time with them is almost up.
After an hour of sitting on the couch, waiting for at least one of the boys to come down, it’s clear not one of them plans on going to school today, all three are likely burnt out after the last few days with little to no chill time. And I sure as shit couldn’t care less about going, so I head into the kitchen to try and find some kind of food I can make on my own.
I scan through all their fresh ingredients and weird
worded foreign shit I’ve never even seen before, let alone tried, digging out an old pack of Eggos. I’m pretty sure they’re covered in freezer burn, but I go for it anyway. It’s not like I’ve never eaten old or expired food that people claim is still good.
Nothing in my house ever lasted long enough to get old, but everything that came from the church was a solid week or more past the ‘best by’ or expiration date. The only thing that didn’t come expired was the milk, when we were lucky enough to get it.
I was always the one to have to go down on donation days. Being a kid all alone in a line full of mostly adults, their bleeding hearts felt bad and they’d give me more than the others, something they thought would brighten my eyes a little. It did. The one extra box of semi-stale cereal or a jar of canned jelly to go with the cheap Peter Pan peanut butter would honestly make my day, and sometimes my month when a spoonful of each was what held me over at home until the school days where I’d eat free meals in the cafeteria.
I stopped going to the donation centers though when I saw one of the other moms from my trailer park, who was there with her youngest kid, get turned away for lack of goods.
I’d heard my mom try to turn her out once, but she wasn’t one to run tricks to buy her drugs like my mom. No, she chose to sell her food stamps instead. So, without the church’s food, her kids simply didn’t eat. She was never hungry since her drug of choice was meth, so I doubt she even noticed all the times her kids would make their way to other neighbors’ houses hoping for an invite to stay and eat that didn’t always come.
They were only five and seven. I was nine.
I left my box on their steps that day.
I think that was the moment I realized other people had it worse than me.
If I could go back there and pull all those kids from their homes, I would.
People think CPS steps in and saves little kids, but that can only happen if someone cares enough to call. Unfortunately, most around us don’t. Their situations are usually shitty in some way too, and they don’t want anyone in their business, so mouths stay shut when maybe they shouldn’t.
I only remember ever seeing one kid getting removed from his home, and that was only because his dad overdosed, and the dad’s girlfriend didn’t want him there. Sucked when he left. He would sit outside with me at night sometimes, waiting for the louder clients of my mom’s to leave.
With my plate of slightly soggy waffles in hand, I tiptoe back to my room. I drop onto the bed and take my time eating, then grab my stash from the drawer and roll a joint. It’s a pinner, all I have left is the shake from the bottom of the bag, but it’ll get the job done.
I grab the old water bottle from the bedside table to ash in and drop in the chair next to the window. I unlatch it and push it open ... and a piercing ring hits my ears making me cringe.
I slam it shut, but it keeps going.
I growl, jumping when my door is thrown open and Maddoc appears.
He pushes a button on his phone and the earsplitting alarm – that they must have had installed or activated today – stops.
He stands there a minute with hair the perfect kind of fucked-up, puffy lips and sleepy eyes. Shirtless and in nothing but tight briefs, his morning wood still very much present, and suddenly I’m hot in all the right places.
But he gets me in the gut when fire doesn’t fill his eyes, and instead they slowly drop to my doorknob before purposefully lifting back to mine and holding.
Anger and cageyness stare back but he blinks them away, a mask now slipped in their place. He walks away without a word.
I jerk forward, ready to go after him but I force my feet still, reminding myself the shift in the house is my fault and the way I’m reacting to it isn’t who I am.
I’m not a frail girl affected by the actions of a broody boy.
So I locked him out twice now, so what?
With a sigh, I toss the weak ass joint to the carpet and drop back on the mattress where I stay for the remainder of the day.
Yeah, I’m not even fooling myself.
This is gonna suck.
I’m stuffing my phone back in my pocket right as Cap walks in. “That was Leo,” I say.
“And?” Captain pushes.
“He said Coach ran into Perkins’ office and slammed the door shut.”
“The fuck?” Royce steps closer.
“I have no fucking idea.”
“We can’t even miss a fucking day anymore without shit going south.” Cap shakes his head, annoyed by all the bullshit.
Raven comes down the stairs right then and all our stares lift.
She stops in her tracks, her eyes flying between the three of us as her slow steps carry her farther down. While her features remain perfectly expressionless, I know those eyes and dread bleeds through the stormy grey.
“We leave in five.” I don’t look at anyone as I say it, and I’m in the car before they’ve even had a chance to grab their shit.
I glare at the traitorous orchards as I wait.
Until two nights ago, I liked the seclusion of the trees that surround us, blocking us from the outside world, but the dark blanket it provides helped her get out without tipping us off to what direction she went.
Where’d you go, baby, and why you pulling away?
I groan, running my hands down my face.
She’s making me a weak bitch. Maybe the distance she’s forcing is what I need to fucking detach a little.
Maybe I should tie her ass to the bed, legs spread, arms out, and show her some pretty pain to make her talk?
A grunt leaves me, and I hit the steering wheel, hiding my eyes behind my shades as the three exit the house.
They slide into their seats, and knowing something is happening with Perkins, we skip the donut shop and are pulling into the parking lot of the school in minutes.
“What’s our plan here?” Royce questions angrily.
“No plan,” I tell him. “We go in and figure out what the fuck is going on.”
Royce nods and steps ahead, Raven following behind him.
Cap trails a little slower, so I stay at his pace, meeting his stare when he looks to me. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
I frown at the building thinking the same damn thing.
“Let’s go.”
Leo meets us at the door, Royce already standing there grilling him, Raven at his side.
“Coach is out now, but they’re already in the gym getting ready for the assembly,” he tells us.
“Fuck.” I shake my head. “I forgot about that shit.”
Leo nods. “I think you should wait until after.”
“I think you should keep your thoughts to yourself,” Royce bites back with what the three of us are thinking.
Leo tenses, but quickly shakes it off, moving out of the way with a tight shrug.
I meet Cap’s stare.
“Let’s go in, we’ll pull his ass out.” Royce yanks the door open and we step through.
Soon as we’re inside, the bell rings and people rush to take a seat, but we head straight for Coach.
He quickly breaks from Perkins and rushes our way, his face etched in anger. “Sit. And stay sitting.”
“Talk, and talk now,” I demand.
He glares but does as he’s told. “Your dad called. I’ll explain, but I need you boys not to fight me on this, no matter how bad you want to.” He looks between the three of us, his eyes pausing a brief moment on Raven before he walks off only to turn back one more time. “Sit.”
Royce’s jaw clenches, but he only groans and moves for our seats – the first-row of bleachers in the center of the rest.
Captain moves next.
Coach Brail is one of the only people we trust around here when we’re forced to count on other people, but even I admit right now it’s real fucking hard to keep my cool when tension is so fucking high between us all. To say we’re on edge is an under-fucking-statement.
The office lady turns to usher Raven off
, but I stop her before she can speak on it. “She sits with us.”
The woman clamps her mouth shut and gives a tight-lipped nod.
As soon as I drop my ass down, Coach catches my eye, narrowing his own. He tips his chin.
“The fuck’s he trying to say, Madman?” Royce hisses beside me.
I shake my head slowly. “I have no fucking clue, but he wants us to stay in line.”
“Fuck him,” Royce quips and I can’t say I’m not on the same wavelength of thinking. “It’s our fucking line, he’s lucky we let his ass on it.”
The crowd dies down as Perkins pulls the microphone to his mouth.
“Good morning everyone,” he addresses the room. “It’s an exciting time, and even with our ... unexpected and disappointing loss this week, we’re going into playoffs tonight as the number one seed over Graven Prep.”
The students go fucking nuts, shouting out their excitement while Perkins looks pissed we still managed to pull ahead based on points earned and points allowed through the season.
Fuck him.
Perkins goes over some bullshit about the hype the next few weeks will bring, reminding everyone that school work comes first and other shit he doesn’t believe in but preaches to save face, and then the music starts, and he moves aside as the cheerleaders take center court.
Chloe, front and fucking center as always, makes damn sure not to cut her eyes our way while she shakes her ass or pops her tits in some sex-infused move she’s thrown in the middle of their routine.
They do some crazy acrobatic shit and people go nuts whistling and clapping.
“Now that’s some flexibility,” Mac muses a few spaces down and Royce chuckles.
He ain’t lying. The cheer squad, or dance team you could call them, has won at state the last three years, ever since Chloe started choreographing. She never lets anyone fucking forget it.
Soon as they’re done, they throw their poms at the team’s feet – not a single pair land near me – then crawl to some cheesy fucking wolf calls to retrieve them.
Captain kicks the pair near his feet away with the shake of his head.
Trouble at Brayshaw High Page 2