Unwritten Rules

by Eliah Greenwood

  “Come on, the neck rubbing? You can’t seriously expect me to fall for that.”

  “You know her?” Haze raises his eyebrows, apparently finding this moment very amusing.

  Kendrick sighs. “She’s my cousin.”

  “Is she now?” Haze says. “Bring her over.”

  He motions to the gigantic man holding me against my will. Donkey Kong obeys. Of course the gorilla-sized guy couldn’t be on Kendrick’s side.

  “Haze, please, don’t hurt her.” Kendrick raises his voice. “God, she’s just… so freaking stubborn.”

  “Believe me, I know.” Haze smirks, obviously referring to our charming meeting in the hall. “She looked me in the eyes and called me a… what was it?” He pauses, looking up as if he’s trying to remember. “A jackass.”

  Kendrick gasps. “Tell me you didn’t.”

  Here we go again.

  “Oh, for God’s sake. Yes, I did. I looked him in the eyes.” I can’t stop myself. “What’s the big deal? Do they throw lasers?”

  Then, against all expectations, Haze tries to suppress a laugh, biting his lower lip roughly to keep a straight face.

  “Now what? Are you going to hurt her?”

  “Hurt her?” Haze scoffs, taking in every single bit of my features. “Of course not. She entertains me.”

  What am I? A freaking amusement park?

  “Well, it sucks to be you, then, because I’m not going to let you anywhere near her.” Kendrick takes a step forward, his eyes darkening by the second.

  Haze doesn’t answer, examining me like he’s never seen a girl before. I can’t possibly tell what he’s thinking.

  “I’ll make a deal with you.” His words sound more like an order than a proposition. “You want the next fight to be memorable. Let’s make sure it is,” he says. “If you win the fight, I’ll stay away from her. But if you lose…” He pauses for what seems to be an eternity. “The girl is mine for a month.”

  Time stops.

  “What? No, you can’t do that,” I blurt.

  “Let’s make something clear, gorgeous.” He steps closer until his face is so close to mine my breath gets lodged in my throat. Kendrick clenches his fists.

  Bringing me back to the day we met, the proximity between us sends shivers down my spine. Then he finally speaks.

  “You have no idea what I can do.”

  “And if I refuse?” Kendrick dares.

  Haze brings his attention back to my very angry cousin.

  “Can you imagine if word got out that you have someone to protect? Kendrick, the powerful fighter of the East Side, weakened by love? How awful would that be? I mean, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, would we?” He glances at the other fighters behind him. They nod in agreement.

  My cousin doesn’t say a word, his eyes shifting back and forth between Haze and me. The hesitant look on his face says it all. He is actually considering this. He can’t be serious.

  “Then, what? You let her go? She’s free. Just like that? I don’t buy it,” Kendrick says with scorn lacing his tone.

  “Trust me. When I’m done with her…” A cocky smile takes residency on Haze’s face as he observes me intently. “She won’t want to come back.”

  This can’t be happening.

  Kendrick frowns. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

  “The same way I know you’ll keep yours.” Haze pauses. “We both fight for what we want—and you know I always get what I want.”

  “And what exactly do you want?” Kendrick glares at Haze with killer eyes. The same killer eyes he gave me when I stole his pudding when we were five. He is not playing.

  Haze smirks and walks toward me until he is barely a couple of steps away from me. I find myself trembling in fear.

  “Her.”

  My heart drops.

  “I’m going to ask you one last time. Do we have a deal?”

  Kendrick doesn’t say a word, his thoughts probably going a thousand miles an hour.

  “Kendrick. Don’t,” I beg.

  Haze scoffs. “He doesn’t really have a choice, you see?”

  I quiver, my breathing unsteady. It feels like the ground is about to collapse under my feet. I look at him, shaking my head in disapproval. Then he says it. The one word I wish I could forget. The word that’s going to change everything.

  “Deal.”

  T H R E E

  Run Away

  “Are you mad?” I ask Kendrick as soon as we enter the kitchen. He hasn’t said a single word to me since we left the alley. He insisted on driving me for “safety reasons” and asked Will to drive Kassidy’s car back. The house is completely silent. I know for a fact Maria is working a night shift again while Kass is probably sleeping like a baby.

  “Mad? Why would I be mad? You just became a target to my enemies. No big deal.”

  “Are you seriously blaming me right now? How the heck was I supposed to know about any of this? I had no idea you were going to some creepy meeting with Haze Adams.”

  “Yes. I am blaming you for this, Winter. None of this would’ve happened if you had just stayed home. What were you thinking?”

  “Maria was right. They are bad influences,” I spit.

  “Don’t you get it? I’m the leader. Me. Not Will, Blake, or Alex. They’re not bad influences, I am,” he yells.

  “Fine. Congratulations. You’re a troubled kid. I still can’t believe you did that to me. Why in the world did you agree to this deal?”

  He grows irritated. “Do you really think I would’ve said yes if I had a choice? That’s Haze Adams we’re talking about. You don’t know him like I do. That sneaky bastard.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You heard him. If word gets out…” He pauses midsentence. “Let’s just say if anyone finds out about you, terrible things could happen. In the street fighter world, love is weakness.” He covers his face with his hand, sighing. My blood turns cold.

  “What about Kass and Maria? If that’s true, don’t you have to protect them, too?”

  “No. Because unlike someone, they never followed me. Nobody knows about them. Or at least, for now.”

  “How did you even get yourself in that situation in the first place, Kendrick? What happened to you? How the hell did you become a street fighter?”

  He doesn’t answer, staring blankly ahead of him. He reaches for a chair and sits down at the kitchen table, then motions for me to do the same. I obey, uncertain. The tension in the atmosphere is so thick it’s hard to breathe.

  He doesn’t speak for a while, obviously wondering if he should tell me everything. Then, after a long and unbearable pause, he breaks the silence.

  “It started two years ago.”

  I immediately know what time he’s referring to. We thought we’d lost him back then. When his father left, something changed in Kendrick. Something broke. And when he eventually made it through and went back to being the goofy guy he used to be, we thought it was a miracle. Truth is, we never understood the reason behind his sudden recovery. God only knows how anyone could ever recover from what his dad did. I know I wouldn’t.

  “I was so angry at my father. There was this rage inside of me all the damn time. I was ditching school, failing classes. I didn’t care about anything anymore. My mom was so desperate to help me, but I refused to let her in. I had anger management issues. I just… I hated him so much.” He looks down, the topic clearly stirring up old and buried feelings.

  “Then I met Blake, Will, and Alex. Blake was new in town and clearly had a lot of anger of his own. Will was angry about his mother using again, and he’d been kicked out of his house by his dick of a step-father. Alex, on the contrary, literally had everything. A great family, a bright future, money. But he still felt empty. Like he needed more. We all bonded over our misery. Then, Blake told us he’d found a way to release his anger, and he thought maybe it could help us, too. That’s whe
n he took me to my first fight.”

  “Your first fight?”

  “Illegal street fights. Top secret and really hard to find unless you have someone on the inside. They constantly change location. Blake knew a guy. It had been going on everywhere across town under the authorities’ noses for a couple of years already. Anyone could fight. As long as they were aware of the risks.”

  “Risks?” I ask.

  “Dying, breaking every bone in your body—you know, the usual,” he jokes, but I can’t bring myself to laugh. “There are rules, of course. But you have to be willing to surrender. If you don’t, your opponent has the right to finish you off. Not exactly rainbows and unicorns, is it?”

  I squirm.

  “We started training intensely. We could make money and fight to release our rage. We thought we were in heaven.”

  “Were you?” I nervously fidget with the fabric of my shirt.

  “No. We couldn’t have been more wrong. They don’t call them illegal street fights for nothing, Winter. It’s not just fights. People gather from everywhere across the country to see the show. It’s drug dealers browsing the crowds before the fight to get people hooked. Fighters owing money and having to kill their opponents to pay their debts. It’s criminals betting huge amounts on the fights and refusing to pay when they lose. All sort of shady things. It got out of hand so fast. Let’s just say things went south, and by the time we understood what we’d gotten ourselves into, it was too late.”

  “Why didn’t you just leave?” I look up at him and become aware that asking him why he stayed is like asking a woman in an abusive relationship why she didn’t just leave. It’s not that easy. It never is.

  “You don’t understand. These fights aren’t something you can just leave behind when you feel like it, Winter. You can get in. But you can’t get out.”

  The fear takes over a lot quicker than I thought possible. I think back to Maria and how she knew better than to ask questions. She knows her son’s doing way more than casually smoking weed in a park with his friends. Why did I have to see for myself? Why couldn’t I trust her instinct?

  “Street fighter groups quickly formed. We call ourselves gangs, although we’re not what you see in the movies. It didn’t take long for us to know we needed alliances to make it through. We needed backup, people that we could trust. That’s how the East Side was born. Each gangs are from different parts of town, so we picked our names according to where we come from. We managed to stay under the radar for a while until recently—” He pauses. “—when we started winning all of our fights. Back then, we were just a bunch of teenagers who wanted to make money. Now, we have more enemies than we can count.”

  I don’t say a word, eager to hear the rest of the story.

  “Haze is the ultimate fighter, and his brother is next in line. I know he’s young, but trust me, no one wants to mess with him. No one’s ever won more fights than him. That’s why he leads the West side.”

  My racing thoughts stop on the word “brother.” Damn it, you mean to tell me there’s more than just one Adams?

  “I mean, until me.”

  “You beat him?”

  “No. Or at least, not physically. I beat his record. When I did, people started to question Haze’s title as the most powerful fighter. Needless to say, he didn’t like that. He challenged me to a one-on-one fight to regain his status. And well, here we are.” He sighs. “You know what they say. If you go looking for trouble, you might just find it.”

  “When’s the fight?” I try to hide how terrified I am.

  “About a month from now.”

  I am positive he can see the panic in my eyes in that moment. All this time, the reason for Kendrick’s miraculous recovery was his involvement in illegal activities. He seemed to have found a new purpose back then. Now I know he fell into a trap without meaning to. Kind of like what I did.

  Expect I didn’t get caught in the crossfire.

  I literally jumped in it.

  “Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay,” he tries to comfort me. “I’ll win the fight. No one’s going to know about you. I promise.”

  I get up, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “You’ll have to stick with us at school. It’ll stop him from getting to you. Understood?”

  I nod and exit the room, heading toward the staircase. Kendrick’s words are deeply anchored within me. He says hanging with the East Side will stop Haze from getting to me.

  I wish his words made me feel better. A part of me desperately wants to believe him. But the other knows that it would be foolish of me. If Haze wants to talk to me, he’ll find a way. After all, he said it himself. Haze Adams always gets what he wants.

  I WALK TOWARD MY FOURTH CLASS of the day and sigh in anticipation. English class is already making me suffer, and I haven’t even stepped inside the classroom yet. It’s been around a week since my life got turned upside down. To think that barely a couple of days ago, my only worries were getting lost in my gigantic new school and not making friends. I have been hanging out with Kendrick, Alex, Will, and Blake since school started, afraid I’ll run into Haze at every corner.

  Just like I expected, he hasn’t been in class. I know that I share English and science class with him from the way the teachers say his name during the attendance only to end up not writing down that he’s absent. Kassidy was right. He disappears whenever he feels like it, and no one dares to ask why.

  Must be nice.

  His absence has reassured Kendrick and made him think that maybe he forgot about me. I sure hope so.

  As I make my way through the crowded halls, I let my mind wander to my friends back in Canada. I miss Allie, my best friend, more than words. I’ve been meaning to talk to her. I repeatedly scroll down to her number and almost call her only to end up talking myself out of it every time. I want to tell her about the deal and the craziness that now comes with my life, but I can’t. I can’t involve her in Kendrick’s mess.

  I step into the already packed classroom and sit down at the first desk I see.

  “Are you going to Bianca’s party?” I overhear a brunette ask her friend. This party is literally all everybody’s been talking about recently. I think back to the warning Kassidy uttered in her car on my first day. Bianca Reed and her minions. Definitely don’t give them a reason to hate you. I don’t think I’ve met Bianca, the so-called mean girl of Riverside High, yet.

  The bell rings as Ms. Jenkins, my English teacher, walks into the room, going off about the previous week’s homework.

  I look at the forty-year-old woman standing in front of the class. Dark circles under her eyes give away that she’s exhausted. All I see is her lips moving, but I’m unable to listen to a word she says. I’ve always had trouble paying attention in class, but luckily for me, I was blessed with a photographic memory that gets me amazing grades without having to listen to a word the teacher says.

  No, I’m just kidding. I had to get extra tutoring during my early high school years because I couldn’t bring myself to listen in class. Call it a learning problem, a complete incapacity to focus on something that doesn’t interest me, or an amazing ability to get distracted by literally everything and anything. I call it the “look, a butterfly” syndrome. My mom called it her own personal nightmare.

  My thoughts hold me hostage as I look out the window next to me. The sound of the door opening startles me. Ms. Jenkins stops talking abruptly, and whispers rise in the back of the class.

  My eyes jump to the person who walked into the room and interrupted the class with no shame.

  Haze Adams.

  His entrance is enough for the oxygen in my lungs to say “Oh hell no. I’m out.” Looks like he finally decided to bless Riverside High with his presence. He’s wearing a white shirt, the tight fabric defining his perfectly sculpted body and muscled torso. For God’s sake. How is this even legal? There should be a limit of beauty allowed for one person and a
fine to pay for being too attractive.

  The sleeve of tattoos on his left arm immediately catches my eyes. How many tattoos does he have? I’ve always wanted to get one but never had the guts. I remember asking my mother if I could get a tattoo when I turned sixteen. She called it auto-mutilation and threatened to kick me out if I ever did.

  Great woman, my mother.

  “Mr. Adams. You’re late.” Ms. Jenkins tries to sound as credible as she can, but we both know she’s completely helpless against him. If the rumors are true, his parents pretty much own the school.

  “Sorry. I had to find my dog.” He snickers, not even bothering to look at her.

  “Last time, you said your dog died.” She raises an eyebrow.

  “Must be why I didn’t find him.”

  The entire class bursts out laughing at his remark. Ms. Jenkins rolls her eyes and proceeds with whatever it was she was talking about.

  As he walks toward one of the last desks available, I find myself holding my breath. Being in the same room as him again isn’t as scary as I thought it would be. It’s worse.

  I look down, hoping he won’t notice me. Then, like he’s reading my mind, his eyes stop on me.

  Of course they do.

  I can feel the weight of his stare on my shoulder as he stops in his path. What is he waiting for? I look up to see him glancing at something.

  And that something…

  Is the empty desk next to me.

  He wouldn’t dare.

  When he sits down by my side, I curse under my breath. I look straight ahead, acting like Ms. Jenkins’s class is the most interesting thing I’ve ever witnessed. I can still feel the weight of his eyes on me. Is he trying to look at me to death? One thing is certain: the whole don’t-look-people-in-the-eyes thing doesn’t apply to him.

  I let out a breath when he gets his phone out of his pocket. Finally. He must have gotten bored. Or maybe he finally learned to take a hint. I try to focus on what the teacher’s saying, but my phone silently vibrating in the pocket of my hoodie stops me from it.