Those whispers follow me through the hall to Ethics, where Mike tries to talk to me but I shut her down. At lunch I skip the cafeteria, opting instead to hide in the library, but I encounter pockets of students who seem horrified to see me. They aren’t celebrating my fall from grace—they’re still afraid of me. These are kids I’ve treated horribly, and now I’m trying to hide among them.
I mumble a “sorry” and wander the halls until my next class.
*****
Nothing I own is appropriate for picking up trash on the side of a highway. After tossing aside countless jeans and sweatshirts, I settle on the one pair of grungy jeans Mom’s allowed me to keep “because you never know when you’ll need them,” and an old sweatshirt with the Snow Bunnies emblem over my favorite pink fitted T-shirt. No one else can see the T-shirt, but it feels like a shield as I head into the unknown.
A shudder passes through me when I park in the half-empty lot next to the non-descript brick building that matches the address in my GPS. It’s like they purposely make government buildings as unwelcoming as possible. My eyes close as I take a deep breath.
You got yourself into this mess.
After another cleansing breath that does nothing for the knot in my belly, I face my fate. One of those short buses you rent for parties idles near the building, and a few kids my age wait near the entrance. A pixie-ish girl with brown skin and long dark curls that overwhelm her small frame is smoking a cigarette and laughing at whatever the blond Amazon next to her is saying. They glance my way, but go back to their conversation when I don’t get out of the car.
My hands tighten around the steering wheel.
I can’t do this.
More cars park around me, depositing the strangest mix of kids I’ve ever seen. An Asian girl with perfect skin, half her head shaved, and a tiny stud in her nose heads straight for Pixie and Amazon, but walks away after bumming a cigarette. A boy and girl who look like they could be siblings park next to each other and start talking the second they get out of their cars. They both have mousy brown hair and wear Army-green jackets over ripped jeans. The girl talks with her hands and he doesn’t take his eyes off her, even when Shaved Head Girl joins them. Two jocks who look like they play football get out of a souped-up pick-up truck. They seem the most like me, but they keep to themselves and don’t acknowledge the others.
What universe have I stumbled into where I am in the same group with these… these… losers isn’t the right word, but it’s close. They may look like kids from my school, but that doesn’t mean I want to be friends with them. We have nothing in common—and yes, I realize I’m judging them entirely on their appearances, but so far it’s proven to be a fairly reliable system. Besides, people project the image they want others to perceive, so I’m just following the rules of the game.
Then the biggest black man I’ve ever seen strides out of the building, the clipboard he’s holding dwarfed in his hand. He scans the group like he’s taking attendance, then glances around the parking lot like he’s looking for someone else.
Me.
Our eyes lock through the windshield but he doesn’t smile. He just stares at me until I feel like I’m going to vomit all over the dashboard.
Pixie stomps out her cigarette with a purple Chuck as the others file into the bus. It’s now or never. I climb out, the crisp air cooling my face, and Clipboard Man watches me.
Edge Rule #3: Face your challenges head-on.
“You must be Brianna Vines.” His deep voice booms over the parking lot and I instinctively look around to make sure no one heard him. He must see the embarrassment on my face because he cracks a smile, revealing a dimple that makes him almost pleasant. “You best get over that now. Everyone’s equal here.”
“Except me, right Bruno?” Pixie smiles up at him as she passes. She barely comes up to his chest but doesn’t seem intimidated by him. She gives me a quick once-over and smiles before boarding the bus.
“You’re always the exception, Drea.” He returns his attention to me. “So, Miss Vines?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He pulls a folded paper from his back pocket and hands me the clipboard. “I’m Mr. Shapiro, but call me Bruno. I take care of you kids while we’re out.” He crosses his arms and his neck disappears into his head. “I need you to fill this out before we go. We’re only waiting on one more, so make it quick.”
I take the paper and pen and prop the clipboard against my stomach to write. It’s all generic information until the line above my signature that asks why I was arrested. The pen hovers over the page, and I imagine having to fill out job applications and confessing that I was arrested for stealing. How could I be so stupid? Tears burn my eyes as the future I’d always envisioned evaporates like the smoke from Pixie’s—Drea’s—cigarette.
A car rumbles into the lot and parks next to my 4Runner. Bruno smiles. “’Bout time. You done Miss Vines?”
My hand shakes as I scribble the word shoplifting, sign my name, and give it back to him. “All set.”
“Good. Climb aboard. The Good Ship Lollipop leaves in two minutes.”
I take a deep breath. Each step onto the bus feels like I’m moving farther away from the person I thought I was, like I’m losing a grip on myself.
A flutter of panic makes me pause at the top and I fight the urge to jump off the bus and never look back.
There are six rows of seats on each side with room for two in each, but several kids are sitting together. Drea and Amazon are in the back, the Army-jacket duo are across from them, then the others are spread out toward the front. Their eyes flick to me in unison, but only the Jocks’ stares last more than a second. For once I’m grateful to not be the center of attention.
I take a seat across from one of the Jocks and stare out the window to deter any attempt at conversation.
“Hey, guys,” a male voice says at the front of the bus. This must be the last person. I look up and my adrenaline jumps another level. His jet black hair’s a little shaggy, there’s a tiny silver hoop in each ear, and when his gaze lands on mine I feel like he looks right through me. His white waffle shirt is pushed up to his elbows, revealing a black tattoo that snakes down his arm. He smiles at the other kids, nods at the Jocks, then rests his hand on the back of my seat as he slides in behind me.
My senses hum. I can’t remember the last time I was this aware of a boy—especially one I’ve never spoken to and who couldn’t have seemed less interested in me.
The bus rocks as Bruno steps on. “Happy Tuesday.” His voice fills the bus, commanding everyone’s attention. “We’re hitting Route 36 today. As always, you must buddy up. We’ve got a new addition today—Brianna,” he nods in my direction, “which means one group will have three.”
“Threesome,” the Jock next to me whispers. His friend high-fives him and I make a note to avoid them at all costs.
“You know the drill. Remain seated until we stop. No smoking on the bus. And no funny business.” His gaze lands on the couple in the back and I wonder what they’ve been busted doing. Bruno buckles himself into the driver’s seat and we pull away from the building.
The group chats like they’ve been together for a long time, and I sink lower in my seat. Making new friends isn’t my strength—alienating them is. Need to instill fear in someone, I’m your girl, but throw me in with people I have absolutely nothing in common with and I’m at a loss where to begin. From what Bruno said, I’ll be paired up with at least one person, possibly two, so at least I won’t be stuck wandering the highway alone.
Drea’s laughter carries to me and I hate the part of me that wants to know what they’re talking about. These aren’t people I’ll ever be friends with. I strain to hear the boy behind me but he isn’t talking. I turn away from the window in the hopes that I’ll catch a glimpse of him, but all I catch is Jock #1 staring at me like he’s been waiting for me to look up.
A smile lights up his reasonably attractive face and he leans over the aisle. “Whaddaya
say you, me, and Tommy partner up? There’s slim pickings in this crowd.” He throws a look at the back of the bus, clearing differentiating himself from the others—and including me with him.
I bristle, even though I’d classified them as the closest to my equal. I may be the queen of assumptions but I don’t like it when others do the same to me.
Yes, I’m a hypocrite.
He’s still watching me, waiting for a reply, so I shrug. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
He lowers his lids in what I guess he thinks is a sexy, bedroom-eyes look. “Well, start thinking.”
Does this boy think I’m going to screw him on the side of the highway?
“Leave her alone, Toby.” A low voice from behind me wipes the creepily seductive look off Toby’s face and he leans back in his seat.
My pulse quickens. Was it Mystery Boy? I twist around to catch his eye but he’s staring at his phone, so I turn my back to Toby and stare out the window for the rest of the ride.
A few minutes later, the bus slows and Bruno parks on the shoulder of the road. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but we’re literally on the side of the highway. What if we have to pee?
Bruno stands and faces us, hands on hips. “Pinnies are in the box on the front seat. This is your only reminder that you may not remove it until you’re back on the bus. No exceptions.”
I follow the Jocks and grab a neon green mesh thing from the box on the front seat before stepping outside. The others join us on the grass that stretches twenty feet wide and as far along the highway as I can see and pull the green things on over their jackets. As I slip it over my head, trying not to breathe in, I can’t help but wonder how on earth I ended up here.
It’s like being the new kid on the first day of school—anxious and awkward—and I don’t like it. The others pair off the way they were when we were waiting for the bus. Mystery Boy and Shaved Head stand together but are both on their phones—not that I care if they talk to each other—and I’m stuck next to the bus in a horrid green shirt that smells like smoke and sweat and old food. There’s a reason I never permitted neon green as a Snow Bunny color. The only saving grace is we’re miles from town and cars are going so fast no one should recognize me.
Bruno steps off the bus carrying long wooden sticks with a metal spike on the end and two small boxes tucked under his arm.
The Amazon and Drea each grab a stick, a trash bag, and what turns out to be those thin rubber gloves people wear at fast food restaurants. Thank god.
Drea smiles at me. “The first day is the worst,” she says. She points at the blond girl. “I’m Drea. This is Heidi.”
Instead of the carefully calculated response I normally give—a cool smile with a raised eyebrow—I smile at them.
And the world doesn’t explode.
“I’m Brianna.”
“Welcome to the Chain Gang.” Drea laughs, and she and Heidi walk away.
“Take one of each,” Bruno says from behind me. “Then pair up with someone.”
Part of me hoped he would tell me where to go. Getting rejected from this crowd would be a new low. There’s always the Jocks, but the way they keep watching me, I get the feeling I might need my stick for more than just picking up trash.
The only people who haven’t wandered away are the army-green couple. I take a deep breath, then move closer and give them my most charming smile. “Can I join you?”
Up close they’re even more similar. Same brown eyes. Wavy hair tucked behind their ears. They seem to weigh their options with an exchanged look, and the girl nods. “Sure, whatever.”
I fall in step behind them, letting them choose where to go. “I-I’m Brianna.”
“You don’t want to hang with Toby and Tommy?” the boy asks.
A laugh escapes me. “I’m not really in the mood to fend off creepers.”
The girl snorts, but neither of them tell me their names.
They lead me in the opposite direction of the Jocks, not far from Mystery Boy. I follow their example, stabbing wrappers and cigarette butts, then using the edge of the trash bag to slide them off. Bottles and cans have to be picked up by hand, and they seem to have an agreement that he does all the bending.
“I can’t believe people just throw all this out here.”
“People are assholes,” she says.
Is that what they think of me? Usually I wouldn’t care, but I’m forced to interact with them. It’s not like I’m trying to be friends. My frustration grows the longer they ignore me, and after half an hour I’m biting my tongue to keep from unleashing a torrent of insults. Who do these two think they are, anyway? I was polite—I even tried to be nice—so why do they refuse to acknowledge me?
Doesn’t feel good, does it? the little voice inside my head asks. She doesn’t show up often, but when she does, she always calls me out for being a jerk.
“What’s with the bunny?” the boy asks.
At first I think he’s asking his girlfriend, but he’s looking at me. I look around, expecting to see a small woodland creature at the edge of the trees, but his eyes are focused on my shirt. “Oh.” I touch the emblem, and for the first time I feel a pinprick of embarrassment over the logo I helped design. I shrug. “It’s just a thing my friends and I made.”
Former friends.
He smiles, but it’s not particularly friendly. “Life goals, huh?”
It’s not the first time someone has compared the Snow Bunnies logo to the Playboy Bunnies—I’m not a complete idiot and know they look similar—but hearing it from this... this… nobody in a neon-green pinnie on the side of the fricking highway after everything else that’s happened in the past week is about all I can take. My face warms and I’m sure I look like a whacked out Christmas display.
“I think you pushed a button,” the girl says, leaning closer to him.
I shake my head to clear it. As much as I want to rip this guy a new one, I cannot cause a scene on my first day of community service. “Why don’t you worry about yourself?” I turn away as they giggle, rage coursing through me. I lift my stick over my head and stab it into the ground as hard as I can. The metal spike sinks into the hard earth.
And stays there.
“Are you kidding me?” I mumble.
“Hit it sideways,” the girl says.
I scowl at her over my shoulder, but do as she says. It slowly loosens, and I pick it up with one hand.
“I didn’t mean to piss you off,” she says, and I turn around.
“You didn’t. He did.”
He shrugs. “You think any of us want to be here?”
My mouth drops. How stupid of me. I’ve been so worried about poor me and how I don’t belong here that it never crossed my mind that no one else wants this either. “I guess—it seems like you two don’t mind.”
She smiles. “We’re a unique story. We’ll be able to tell our grandkids we met picking trash.”
He rolls his eyes but runs his hand over her back and for the first time since we got off the bus I feel something other than anger and humiliation.
“I’m happy for you?” I smile, and for once it’s not forced.
She beams. “Thanks. I am too.” Then she holds out her hand to me. “I’m Laina, and this is Crue.”
I shake her hand. He gives me a small nod, but this small victory feels better than anything has in a long time. Of course, we still have another hour to go, but I feel like I got my foot in the door with this group. They may not be who I’d choose to hang out with—or even associate with—but like Crue said, none of us want to be here. We may as well make the most of it.
At the end of the shift, Bruno lets loose an ear-piercing whistle and we converge on the bus with half-filled bags. Drea’s already removed her pinnie and is holding it and her trash bag with equal disgust. Mystery Boy collects the sticks while Bruno puts our bags inside each other, and Shaved Head grabs a bottle of hand sanitizer from next to the driver’s seat and holds it out for the others. She pumps a generous dol
lop into their hands as they board the bus, and I give her a smile when it’s my turn.
“Thanks.”
“No one wants that nastiness on themselves any longer than necessary.” Her voice is smooth and low and I can imagine her singing jazz in a club. Despite the weird hair, her skin is smooth and her brown eyes sparkle in the late afternoon sun. No wonder Mystery Boy paired up with her.
Inside, everyone takes the same seats as on the way here. While this wasn’t as bad as I expected, I don’t know if I can do this for forty-eight more hours.
Bruno gets in and starts the bus, but doesn’t put it into drive. “Okay, whatcha got?” he asks.
I twist in my seat so I can see the others.
“Stuffed animal!” says Drea.
“Unopened can of beer,” says Mystery Boy.
Bruno’s eyes go wide. “I’ll take that, X-Man.”
X-Man?
“Already in the bag, sir.”
“Condom!” Toby shouts.
“Dude, you always find a condom,” Heidi says.
“I think he brings them himself,” says Shaved Head.
“Brianna, what about you?” Bruno asks. “What’s the most interesting thing you picked up?”
I try to think back, but I didn’t pay much attention to what I put in the bag. “It was just trash.”
“Just trash?” He places a meaty hand to his chest. “You’re breaking my heart. You’ve got to look past the fact that it’s garbage and find the story there.”
I literally cannot think of anything I found that’s worth sharing. “Sorry, it was mostly fast food cups and wrappers.”
Bruno sighs like I’m killing him, then lets me off the hook. “Laina? Crue?”
I expect Laina to speak since she was the chattier of the two—if you can call her brand of non-conversation chatty—but Crue is the one who answers.
“A doctoral thesis on the life cycle of the pigmy goat.”
Bruno’s jaw drops. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Did you read it?” Heidi asks.
Toby snorts. “Like he can read.”
I roll my eyes at him. On the ride here I probably would have laughed, but now that I’ve spent a couple hours with Crue, I realize he’s not that different from anyone else here, he just likes to keep to himself.
The Edge Rules (The Rules Series Book 3) Page 4