by Tijan
“I don’t know.” He put the whiskey bottle underneath a bush, then led the way back. “I’m improvising.”
I trailed behind him, but right where we would’ve disappeared into the trees, I turned back. My old house remained in my view, and I could see the lights on inside. The mother walked past in an upstairs bedroom, one of the kids in her arms. She had her arms wrapped so lovingly around him. The little boy wore a towel, the yellow hood almost covering his head.
My throat swelled up. Why I had a problem breathing lately was beyond me. It was annoying.
“Bren?”
I swallowed, forcing whatever emotion had been rising away. “Coming.”
This had started out as a normal evening for me. I’d been content.
I wasn’t anymore.
Now I was ready to stir shit up too.
“Yeah?” Cross was on the phone with his sister.
We’d returned to Jordan’s, and all of us now stood around Cross’ truck, waiting for the final word.
He bent his head down. “The girls left then?”
Taz was talking. We could hear her voice, but not what she was saying.
“They went to Manny’s?” His eyes lifted to mine.
I could read his mind.
Fuck.
Heather ran Manny’s. She was in charge of the grill while her brother ran the bar. It was a popular hangout for Normals. Anyone who went to Fallen Crest, our neighboring town, was trying to be uppity. Fallen Crest was rich. Millionaires lived there, and knowing Sunday had gone there with the other cheerleaders pissed me off.
Roussou was blue collar.
We were supposed to stay local.
We didn’t get fancy college degrees, or if we did, it was a community college or technical school. I mean, yeah, there were some who left for those nice universities, but they rarely came back. They were usually not crew.
Heather was different. She lived there. She’d gone to school there, but Sunday—she was reaching above her station. My need to stir shit up went from a fun zone to a pissed-off zone.
“Okay. Thanks.” Cross ended his call and looked at us. There was a dark gleam in his eyes. “Apparently, they’ve been hanging out in Fallen Crest all summer. Manny’s is their new go-to.”
A resounding silence showed our enthusiasm.
Jordan folded his arms over his chest. “Fuck that.”
Even Zellman’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck they doing there? Sunday hoping to land some rich prick?”
Cross’ top lip curled, but he looked only at me. “What do you want to do?”
We had to work fast.
We took Jordan’s truck. As soon as he parked next to Sunday’s car, Zellman jumped to the ground from the bed. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and moved slowly. He looked like he was out for a stroll.
Cross hopped out next to me and laughed. “He just needs a little bird to perch on his shoulder.”
A second later, Zellman whistled as he headed inside Manny’s.
“Let’s go.” Jordan stepped around us, using a machine to make quick work of the lug nuts.
I was the lookout, and I settled behind the car next to Sunday’s, positioned so I could see through the window, but people coming out couldn’t see me. I could hear Cross and Jordan working behind me.
They moved fast and efficiently. This wasn’t the first car we’d done.
They set the jack in place, removed the hubcap. The lug nuts were loosened, and the car was jacked up. It wasn’t long before I heard the first tire being taken off. Jordan put it aside as Cross grabbed a cinder block. The jack lowered the car, and they were on to the next tire.
The second and third tires went just as quickly. I waited until right before they got the fourth one off, then headed inside.
I was part signal, and part of the con too.
Cross and Jordan would finish up outside, storing Sunday’s tires in the trees so we couldn’t be labeled thieves. They always put them close to the vehicle, but they were still a bitch to find. If people knew us, knew our ways, they’d just go look for the tires. That only happened once—when we did this to my brother.
I laughed to myself, remembering that night.
Manny’s was full, which didn’t surprise me. There were Fallen Crest students in the front section. I was walking past the grill counter when Heather came out of her office. She stopped in the hallway, a bunch of papers in her hand, and frowned at me.
“Hey.” Her frown faded, but I saw her wheels turning. Her forehead wrinkled. “I thought you were supposed to be at Channing’s tonight.”
Channing. Wha… My wheels started working, and I cursed.
She grinned, stuffing her papers into her pocket. “Totally forgot?” She gestured behind her. “I thought I saw Zellman a few minutes ago. Is your crew here?”
“No!” Too much. I coughed. “No. I came to pick him up.”
She twisted around, looking into the back section. “Okay, but listen.” Her hand came to my arm.
I looked down at it.
Why was Heather touching me? Like she was comforting me? This wasn’t our normal interaction. She’d get uncomfortable, then I’d get more uncomfortable, and you never knew who would cut out first.
It was me this time.
I stepped away from her hand and pointed behind her. “I gotta go.”
“Okay, but—”
I brushed past her.
“Call your brother, Bren! He’ll worry otherwise.”
It wasn’t just annoyance rolling around in my gut. I stepped into the back room, and I felt my hands shaking a little.
What was that about?
“You disappeared today.”
Race Ryerson stood in front of me, drink in hand.
God, I didn’t like this guy. He was coming at me like he knew me, or like he wanted to know me.
He’d changed clothes since this morning. He wore lightweight black sweatpants and a black hoodie. The clothes molded to his form, showing off his arm muscles and broad chest. He had the hood pulled up too. It would’ve looked ridiculous on another guy, but it only added a mysterious appeal in his case. I skimmed the room and saw that it was working. A few girls were sneaking looks at him.
I gestured to his drink. “Your fake must be pretty good to get alcohol in here.”
He looked down at it, then back at me, a faint grin on his mouth. “The soda came from the counter. Alex snuck the liquor in.”
I heard Alex’s laugh and Sunday’s giggle, and I turned around.
Alex’s group was here—not all of them, but a fair amount of the teenagers and a few who’d graduated with Drake. Some were playing pool. Others were throwing darts, and Alex was at the biggest table, his arms around two girls like he was holding court. I narrowed my eyes, scanning for Zellman, but I didn’t see him.
“Since when do we hang out at Manny’s?” I asked under my breath, not expecting a response. I had a feeling they came more than I thought.
“It was my idea.”
I turned back to Race. His grin became more pronounced.
“Drake told me about this place, and since it’s my first day here, Alex asked where I wanted to go.” He looked behind me to Sunday and the other cheerleaders. “The rest found us.”
“Hey, hey!”
Alex’s voice no longer came from across the room.
I braced myself as Race looked behind me. An arm came down on my shoulder. I was jerked against Alex’s side.
Stop…
I whispered that word to myself in my head.
Breathe.
I was in Heather’s place. I could smell the booze on Alex’s breath. I could feel the sweat, the heat from his body. Race looked completely sober, but Alex was not. He was weaving, half-using me for balance.
My instincts were to lash out.
No one touched me against my will—a point I’d reminded him of twelve hours earlier—but he was drunk. And this is Heather’s place. This is Heather’s. I couldn’t cause a f
ight… Not here.
Race’s smile dropped. His eyes sharpened in alarm. “Hey, cuz. Why don’t you step back from her.”
“What?”
I could feel Alex’s body become rigid.
He hadn’t noticed that mine already was.
“No—” he started to growl, but suddenly he was gone.
I saw it in slow motion.
Sunday stepped up next to us with a high-pitched giggle. Then it dropped low in my head and faded out. Everything moved at a slower pace. She looked behind me, her eyes widening, her laugh changing to a yell. Race lifted his head to look too, craning to see behind me. Alex tensed even more, stiffening up.
I could see another girl’s hair lift in the air as she suddenly dropped in position to jump out of the way.
It all clicked in the back of my mind, and then suddenly—time snapped back into place, and everything was a big whoosh!
A hand clamped on Alex’s shoulder and yanked him backward.
I began to pivot around, dropping down like the other girl had, but I wasn’t running for safety. I needed to get my bearings.
Zellman was on top of Alex. I tried to lunge forward, but someone pulled me backwards. Alex’s members came running from across the room. One jumped on top of the pool table.
All hell was breaking loose. Again.
More bodies ran into the room, and I was in the air, going backward.
Cross ran forward. He bent down, wrapped an arm around one of Alex’s guys, and threw him onto the pool table. He took out the other guy on there at the same time.
I looked around to find Race in front of me. He was the one dragging me back. I put the brakes on, my feet skidding across the floor as I tried to stop.
But I couldn’t.
As I moved, Channing’s voice entered my head. “Go with the movement. Use it to your advantage.”
So I did.
I turned around again, running with the momentum, and stepped up on the wall. My body followed, like I was going to run up it, but I threw my leg over. I flipped, and as I landed with one foot on the floor, my other leg snapped around, kicking Race smack across his face. It was a perfect side kick.
Channing would’ve been proud.
Race fell, and I didn’t wait for his next move.
I sprinted forward into the writhing mass of bodies.
Everyone was punching, throwing, kicking.
Zellman and Alex were trading blows.
Jordan took on three of Alex’s crew. Why they seemed to wait for their turn to trade blows with him was beyond me. They weren’t the best fighters, which was good for us.
Cross fought three of his own. The two from the pool table had regrouped, and a third headed for Cross’ backside.
I went for him, but he was moving too fast. I wouldn’t be able to stop him, so I planted myself in front of him and bent forward, using the same momentum as before. I kicked up and connected right under his chin. He fell backward into Race, who was advancing on me again.
Race caught him, stopped, and looked at me, then at the guy. His eyes were wide and he looked furious as he reared back and punched the guy. The member fell to the floor, unconscious before he landed.
Race winced and started for me again.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a knife. “Stop!”
He did, holding his hands up. “I was trying to protect you.”
I could feel Cross behind me, moving and hitting. Our backs bumped up against each other, but neither of us reacted. As everyone else kept fighting around us, Race and I had a small pocket of civility. For now.
I brandished the knife. “I don’t need your protection.”
He rubbed at his jaw, eyes flashing. “Yeah. I’m getting that.” He raised his hands again. “I’m not here to make waves against you.”
Suddenly, Cross was shoved backward into me. I pitched forward, and Race shot his hands out like he was going to catch me, but I rolled to the side, coming right back to my feet. Race gave a frustrated groan, but he met the member who was raining down punches on Cross.
Race threw a right hook, spinning his body with the punch. It knocked the guy sideways, and his body got tangled up with a second.
Cross rolled to his feet, and we both stood with our knees bent, hands up, prepared for the next move. Seeing Race fighting for us, we looked at each other for a moment, but that was the extent of it.
A rush of new members came flooding in from the front of Manny’s, and we turned to face them. In the mess, we formed a circle with our backs to each other. Cross. Me. Jordan. Zellman. And now Race. He was fighting on our side.
I didn’t punch. I used my legs for most of my fighting. I wrapped my feet around one guy’s head and fell to my back, using the action and gravity to throw him over me when I saw red and blue lights through the window.
I pushed to my feet. “POLICE!”
Everyone unified.
We all took off, pushing forward to spill out the side door. I took the shortcut, not caring how pissed Heather would be. She’d had another exit door installed last summer so the cooks could step outside for a fast break.
Dodging the dishwasher and two girls huddled in the corner, I shoved open the screen door. It didn’t slam shut behind me. Cross, Zellman, and Jordan were on my tail until Cross took the lead.
He patted my arm. “Come on!” He was the fastest in our crew, and he led the way, running toward Heather’s house behind Manny’s. Jordan’s car was parked in the alley behind her garage.
No words were spoken as we piled in. Jordan started the truck right away.
Cross, Zellman, and I scrambled into the back, and as Jordan peeled out, all of us lying flat. We didn’t get far. Jordan hit the brakes, but then eased forward as we saw more police lights going past us.
We stayed like that the whole ride back to Jordan’s.
I closed my eyes at one point, replaying the scene in my head.
Race had our backs in there. Why, I had no clue, but there were going to be problems for him now. He was a Normal, and he’d gone against his cousin. They’d either turn on him, or if Alex decided to make it a family issue, he’d be kicked out of the house.
It didn’t sit right with me.
None of it.
We went to Jordan’s, but no one left the truck. He parked and got out, opening the back bed, and the three of us sat on the tailgate, our feet dangling. Jordan lounged against the side of his truck, his hands in his pockets. He looked like a guy leaning back, enjoying the weather, except his eyes were downcast, his forehead was wrinkled, and he frowned.
I raked a hand through my hair, feeling the frayed ends and trying to smooth some of it. After a minute I gave up, letting my hands rest on my lap.
Cross sat next to me. He gripped the edge of the truck, next to his legs. His knuckles were turning white.
Zellman was the only one nonplussed. He watched us, an expectant note in his eyes, like he was ready for whatever was next on the agenda.
“The dude fought with us.”
Everyone looked at Jordan. He looked at me.
“Why’d he fight on our side?”
“I clipped him when I thought he was going at me.”
Jordan shook his head. “That’s not an answer, Bren. He want in your pants or something? Is this about Drake, whatever he said about you?”
“You’re asking me like I have an answer.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s not the time to be a smartass.”
“She doesn’t know. She hasn’t talked to him except when you’ve seen her.”
Jordan’s gaze switched to Cross, but he didn’t retort.
“We’re supposed to believe the guy backed us up for no reason?” he said after a moment.
A set of headlights came down Jordan’s driveway.
All of us formed a line, waiting.
The car turned past the main house and began coming up the slight hill to the shed. After a moment its headlights lit us up. We weren’t able to make out
the car, or who was driving it. We were almost blinded, but there was no reason to hide. If they’d come to Jordan’s, we would fight.
As the vehicle parked, I could tell it was a truck. I reached into my pocket for my knife.
The lights stayed on, but both doors opened.
“Put the knife away, Bren! Now!”
Oh shit.
Jordan glanced at me. “Your brother?”
I felt Cross looking at me too, but I only grimaced and did as Channing said.
The knife went back into my pocket, and I waited, his gait a brisk and angry motion. As he moved out of the headlights, I could see his jaw clenched, his eyes irate, and the bottom of his neck reddening.
Now, I had to give my brother some credit here. He’d been a terror when he was younger, but he was older now and generally more laidback. Generally. Having said that, I knew he did get pissed, but the times I’d seen his neck red could be counted on one hand. I almost stepped back, but I held firm, not looking away.
The person with him fell back, and when I recognized Race, I got a good jolt. An apology flashed in his eyes before Channing started.
“Want to tell me what the fuck happened at Manny’s?” My brother raked his hands through his hair. “Heather called me and said it all started with you. You guys trashed the place? What were you thinking?!”
“Hey!” Zellman stepped forward, his hands balled into fists and his shaggy hair standing up as if a bird was trying to build a nest in it. “Back off. Alex had no business touching her. He was told this morning to keep his hands off. He ignored that warning tonight.”
The redness on Channing’s neck faded, but his jaw remained clenched.
“That true?” he asked me.
I narrowed my eyes. Fuck him. He knew it was true.
Cross moved forward. “What’s Heather going to do?”
Channing stared at me a moment longer before saying, “Nothing. Your crew started it. If someone presses charges, no judge is going to care that Ryerson touched Bren against her will. There’s no justification for your response to that.”
But there was in the system. Channing let out a small sigh and moved back a step. It was the break in tension we needed.
“I’m sorry, Bren.”