Southside High

by Mankin, Michelle

  Copyright © 2020 Michelle Mankin

  All rights reserved

  All rights reserved except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieval system without prior written permission from the owner/publisher of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Edited by Pam Berehulke

  Cover photo by Michelle Lancaster @lanefotograf www.michellelancaster.com

  Cover design by Michelle Preast at Indie Book Covers

  Formatting by Elaine York at Allusion Publishing

  About the Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  A Year Later

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  My best friend and I want the same girl. But Lace Lowell is mine. She was mine first. She’ll be mine forever. Sure, she was his friend when they were kids, long before I ever met her. But that’s in the past. This is now. I’m Warren Jinkins. War. My name is my battle cry. I take what I want. I don’t ask, and I want her.

  I’m in love with two men. Bryan Jackson is the guitarist in our band, and War is the lead singer. They’re sexy bad boys, the most dangerous guys in our school. All the girls at Southside High want them. But loving two guys is a problem—especially when those two guys also love each other.

  Warning: Southside High is intended for mature readers over the age of seventeen. Contains sexual situations, strong language, and drug use. It is also a two-part story. The resolution takes place in Irresistible Refrain, available as an individual title or inside The Complete Tempest Rock Star Series, Books 1–6.

  War

  “He got arrested.”

  “Again?”

  “Yeah. They threw him in that alternative school for troubled teens for a while.”

  The murmurings of fellow students followed me as I confidently strode onto school property like I owned it, which I practically did.

  The first bell was about to ring, and the patchy lawn in front of the school swarmed with disaffected youth. Irritated by the buzz my return had stirred, I considered shoving my fist in someone’s face, agitate the hornets in the nest while letting off a little steam of my own, but I decided against it.

  Arrogantly cool was always the way to go, so I kept my sunglass-shaded gaze trained straight ahead. I knew how to play the game. At Southside High, having a bad attitude was everything.

  “Fucking shit, War,” my wingman said. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back to school today?”

  Lifting his sunglasses onto his head, Bryan Jackson tossed his cigarette aside and broke away from a group of smokers by the front steps. His expression as chill as mine, he fell into pace at his rightful position beside me. We hadn’t seen each other in months, but he didn’t mention it. He knew the drill. We’d come a long way from our middle-school days when we’d had our asses handed to us.

  “Got shit to do, Bry.” Beneath the shadow of the two-story brick building, I veered to my left, following the sidewalk that led around it. “You up for dishing out a potential ass-kicking this morning?”

  “I’m up for whatever.” Bryan huffed beside me. “But slow down.” His chin held high, he let his gray-green gaze pass through other students like they were just background noise, same as mine did.

  “Been gone a while.” I slowed my steps. “Back now. Wanna get the usual bullshit over with. Reestablish my cred.” I glanced at him. “Who’s taken advantage, I mean, taken over in my absence?”

  “Kyle.” His strong jaw tightening, Bryan shook his head, unleashing long layers of his brown hair. “He’s been acting all high and mighty, hinting that you were never coming back.”

  “Fucking bastard.”

  “You know how it is. Only one can rule.” Bryan shrugged one thickly muscled shoulder.

  We both worked out. Pounding the weights had been my gym credit at the alternative school, but even so, I remained middleweight boxing class to Bryan’s heavyweight.

  “Getting ready to fix that shit right the fuck now,” I said firmly. I might be a middleweight, but I had heavyweight power behind my punches.

  We turned the corner together. Without the building to buffer it, a strong gust of wind whipped at both of us. Bryan’s shorter hair blasted back from his face. My medium-length hair escaped the red bandanna I wore around my head to contain it, preferring to be unrestrained like I did.

  With that wind, it was bite-ass cold. I wanted this done so we could go inside.

  Kyle was right where I expected to find him, in my spot next to the scraggly hedges behind the building. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. His head was down, his riotous black hair casting sinister shadows into his greedy gray eyes. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t alone. He had a client with him and a protector.

  Kyle was a dealer. I’d known him since middle school. He was always dealing.

  “Kyle, psst,” his protection hissed, his red-rimmed blue eyes narrowed on me. “Look-it. War’s here.”

  I didn’t recognize the hulk-sized dude who was his new sentry. His previous one had been shipped off to the alternative school along with me, but unlike me, he hadn’t returned.

  “Hey, asshole,” I said, curling my ringed fingers into fists and peering past the hulk to Kyle. “Your new sentry sucks.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Hulk said, but I cut him off.

  “Out of my face, asshole. I don’t have time for you.” I stared him down, pulling into play the couple of inches of height I had on him.

  Asshole’s job as a sentry wasn’t watching for teachers. Knowing what was good for them, they didn’t patrol this corner. It belonged to lowlifes like me, though the staff had their territory to defend like we all did. Classrooms, hallways, and the cafeteria were their domain. Coaches and jocks h
ad the right of way in the gym and around the football field. The Latino gang La Rasa Prima had the entire south portion of the school.

  “When’d you get out?” Kyle asked, acting all cool and shit as he looked at me.

  I glared at him. “Earlier than you expected, apparently.”

  “Don’t get your boxers in a twist.” Kyle passed the ziplock bag containing an assortment of pills to his client, then turned and strutted to me. As his client slinked away, Kyle jerked his chin up, a respectful greeting to me.

  “Don’t play around, man.” I marched straight to him, ignoring the bag of muscle who lumbered into action to stand beside him. Physically, I might not be the biggest badass here, but my reputation was. “You know why I’m pissed.”

  “Give ’im his cut, Randy,” Kyle said. He not only knew my reputation, he’d experienced it.

  “Okay.” Randy uncrossed his arms and started to reach his hand into his letterman jacket, but that start was all he got.

  My forearm to his throat, I slammed him back into the brick wall and poked the pointy end of my newly acquired switchblade under his chin.

  “Be real still, motherfucker,” I said low as he blinked his no longer bleary blue eyes at me.

  “Settle down, War,” Kyle said, sounding strangled behind me.

  “You got Kyle, Bry?”

  “Oh yeah,” Bryan said. “I got him on the ground. He doesn’t look so good.”

  “Fuck, War.” Kyle wheezed, and I knew without taking my eyes from Randy that Kyle was in a fetal position, his hands cupped over his shriveled junk. “Randy was just gonna give you some cash. I kept your corner for you while you were gone. I ain’t gonna try to keep it. You want it back, all you had to do was ask.”

  “I take what I want.” I dug my forearm into Randy’s windpipe one more time just for fun. “I don’t ask anyone for anything, ever.”

  I stepped back, away from Randy. He eyed the blade and me with the right amount of trepidation now, remaining where I’d pinned him.

  I clicked my blade closed and turned to Kyle, jerking my chin toward the building. “Get your worthless sentry and your sorry ass out of here.”

  “But, War—”

  “Stay off my corner. Go. Now,” I snarled the words at Kyle, my lips pulling back from my teeth.

  Wisely, Kyle and Randy decided to do as told. I kept my gaze on them until they disappeared into the building.

  “Why’d you wanna give Kyle such a hard time?” Bryan asked.

  “He had my corner,” I said. It was as fucking simple as that.

  “He had it because you told him to keep it until you returned.”

  “Yeah, so I’m back now.” I shrugged. Bryan didn’t always see things the same way as me.

  “Why didn’t you take his money?”

  “Not opposed to free samples, or the other occasional perks that come my way from having a friend who deals.” Focusing on Bryan, I lifted a brow. His naiveté sometimes surprised me. “But I’m not taking drug money from him and getting my ass thrown back into the alternative school. Or worse, jail.”

  “Sorry, man.” He winced from the dig. “It should’ve been me who went to juvie, not you.”

  “Not gonna lie, Bry. That shit sucked.”

  Worse than I’d ever let on, though I’d do it again if necessary, but only for him. Bryan was my brother in all the ways that counted. But I wasn’t sure I’d survive a second time. The shit that happened inside juvie made Southside High seem like a fucking garden party.

  “I owe you big.” He clenched his teeth together so tightly, a muscle spasmed in his jaw. “Never going to be able to repay you for that.”

  Yeah, he probably had some idea what happened in lockdown. I nodded to acknowledge his statement, but I wasn’t going to rub it in. If it were anyone else, fuck yeah. But that wasn’t how Bryan and I operated.

  “Never going back inside that shithole again.” I pocketed the blade and clapped my best friend on the shoulder. “It’s good to be back. Let’s go find some bitches. I need to get laid.”

  Lace

  The office secretary kept droning on about school rules and policy long after the bell for first period rang. Already nervous about being the new girl, I nodded but shifted impatiently.

  “Did you get all that?” She glanced over the rims of her purple glasses at me as she handed over my class schedule.

  “Yes.” I nodded again, making my blond ponytail sway.

  She’d spewed a ton of information, so fast that I didn’t really get everything. But what I didn’t get, I’d figure out somehow.

  I’d come from an accelerated program at a charter high school. Even though I wasn’t quite sixteen yet, I was entering Southside High as a sophomore. I was smart, and not just academically. My brother, Dizzy, and I had been through a lot that had forced us to grow up fast.

  “Okay then, let’s get you to class.” The secretary crooked her finger at a pretty Latina who was dressed nearly identical to me in a sweater set, jeans, and ballet flats.

  I wondered if her outfit was purposefully chosen to project an image like mine was. Clothes did make the person, or so I tried to convince myself. Often.

  “Sabrina,” the secretary said. “Please escort Miss Lowell to her first-period class and show her where the important things are along the way.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Hodges,” Sabrina said dutifully. She abandoned the graffiti-emblazoned plastic chair she’d been sitting on and beckoned to me from the glass office door. “Ready?” she asked, finally making eye contact.

  “Yeah,” I said hoarsely, and swallowed to moisten and loosen my throat. It felt thin like a straw, and tight like it had a tennis ball stuck inside it. Clasping my class schedule to my chest, I hurried to join her.

  As soon as the door closed behind us, Sabrina said, “You’re in a bunch of honors classes.” She spoke with a slight Spanish accent. “Are you really that smart?”

  Shrugging, I said, “I make good grades.” I had to make them. A scholarship was my only real chance to get out of Southside Seattle.

  “That’s cool. Well, c’mon.” Sabrina turned and practically sprinted through the empty hallway. The soles of her flats were loud as they snapped across the cracked linoleum.

  I jogged to keep pace with her. It was an inelegant jog. Without a locker yet, my backpack was heavy with textbooks I’d just been given.

  “I’m not saying this to be judgmental or anything . . .” Withdrawing a navy bandanna from her sweater pocket, Sabrina tied it around her loose ebony hair. “But being smart around here makes you a target. Being pretty will too. Before the end of the day, you’re probably gonna get jumped.”

  Fear clutched my stomach, but not because of the novelty of the experience. I’d been beaten before. By my own mother, a few of her boyfriends, and at school by other students.

  “You’ll need to pick a group to join for your own protection.” Sabrina gave me a sidelong glance. “You into sports?”

  “No, not really.” I shook my head, the fire-engine-red lockers on either side of me blurring. I felt a little dizzy and sick.

  “In a gang?” she asked, looking hopeful.

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “I’m in La Rasa Prima. I can put in a good word for you with Jorge if you want.”

  “No, that’s okay.” I was born and raised in Southside. I knew how that gang worked. They might keep me safe, but the cost was too high.

  “It’s your ass.” She shrugged.

  I straightened my shoulders. I can hold my own.

  Most of the time that was true. On those occasions when it wasn’t, my big brother intervened.

  Dizzy and I were the only family each other had. Our mother didn’t count, and the uncle we lived with only nominally. Food, clothing, shelter, he provided those, but he didn’t do it out of affection. Constantly, he reminded us how us living with him put him out. But since we’d moved in with him, Dizzy didn’t hover over me as much as he once did.

  “Her
e’s your locker.” Sabrina stopped and banged on the metal door of locker number 303. The paint on it was scratched with the words don’t grow up, it’s a trap.

  I almost smiled. That was my brother’s philosophy, for sure.

  Unfolding my schedule, I glanced down at the combination code Mrs. Hodges had written on it. While I opened my locker, Sabrina pulled a pack of gum from her pocket. I unzipped my backpack and stacked most of my books inside. The metal door clattered as I closed it and then spun the dial.

  “Don’t ever put anything valuable in there.” Sabrina gave me a pointed look before turning away. Crooking her finger, she said, “C’mon.”

  “Okay.” Once again, I jogged to keep up with her.

  “Freshmen and sophomores have classes on this hall. This is the north side. North is for unaffiliated types.” She gave me a pointed look. “In other words, losers. South side belongs to La Rasa Prima. Your first class is there. Without protection, a white girl like you isn’t going to go unnoticed. Do you have a weapon?”

  “No.” Suddenly, I was sure I was going to hurl. Spotting a restroom, I pointed. “Can we stop? I don’t feel so good.”

  “Sure, but don’t—”

  Trembling, I pushed open the door, shocked to find a guy—a handsome guy—was inside, leaning against the bathroom counter. He turned his head.

  A bolt like lightning struck me as his warm brown eyes connected to mine. I forgot everything. The electrical current surging through me was so strong, my mind totally blanked.

  That alone would have been enough on its own to shock me into statue stillness. So would the fact that there was a boy inside the girls’ restroom.

  But there was more.

  Both brunette.

  Both working over Mr. Brown Eyes and Shirtless.

  One wearing only her jeans and bra kissed and licked his sculpted chest. The other one was dressed—undressed—much like the other, but she was on her jean-clad knees in front of him, very enthusiastically giving him a blow job.

  Neither took notice of me. Apparently, he had powers to mind-blank women and tasted really good. The kissing, licking, and sucking sounds bounced off the colorful graffiti-splashed tile walls, transforming the bathroom into an XXX-rated concert hall.