Crew Series, #1

by Tijan

  I didn’t care. People like Tabatha Sweets needed to be watched, your back never turned toward them.

  But she wasn’t going to hear me now. I could tell. I’d push it later.

  I held my hands up. “Okay. Backing off, but if she hurts you, I’m going after her.”

  She hugged me again. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  Another melting moment here. She might’ve not been Jordan or Zellman, but I’d back her like she was.

  This girl was crew to me.

  Taz pulled away a second later, frowning up at me. “Cross wouldn’t tell me anything, but is everything sorted? I mean, with the stabbing…”

  “Yeah, and that’s why I’m here—” I caught the guarded flash in her eyes and amended. “It’s one of the reasons I wanted to see you. I have to figure out my community service hours. Cross mentioned your charity thing might be approved.”

  Her eyes went wide, and a smile crept over her face. “Yes! Oh my gosh.” She jumped back, clapping softly. “Yes, yes! I’d love that. I threw that out to Cross, but I didn’t think he’d actually tell you, but yes. Ms. Bagirianni is the head of our committee. She’d be approved in a heartbeat by the judge. She’s the one who mentioned it.”

  Shiiiiiit. I forgot about The Badger.

  Despite all the cursing in my head, I knew I was stuck. They’d given me a list of places I could volunteer, but none held my interest. At least I’d be with Taz for this one, but The Badger?

  Two guesses as to who’d end up being my counselor. A sinking feeling washed through me.

  Taz was still talking, not knowing I’d slipped into the Fucks of all Fucks Fairyland. When I tuned back in, she was saying, “…call her, but I know it’ll all work out. We have our first meeting Monday after school.” She paused, an expectant look on her face. She had her phone out too. “Should I?”

  “What?” I looked from her to the phone, and back again.

  “Should I call her?”

  “Why would you call her?” I was playing.

  “Bren!”

  “I’m kidding.”

  “Oh!” She laughed, then flicked her eyes upward. “But for real, do you want me to call her? I can do it now.”

  I wanted to say no, give myself more time to find another option, but I had to be realistic. I’d already wasted four months. I needed to get this done, and it’d take me a long time to fulfill the thousand hours, plus twenty counseling sessions.

  My cheeks hurt because my smile was so forced. “Sure.”

  “Great! I’m on it. This will be so much fun.”

  I was going to regret this. I felt it in my bones. Way too much The Badger.

  I nodded, my neck so damned stiff. “Yeah.”

  She picked up her glass again, gesturing outside with her phone. “I’m going to let Race know what I’m doing, and then I’ll give her a call. Are you sticking—”

  I gave her a pitying look.

  She stopped herself. “No. Your crew isn’t out there.”

  I stood up from the counter, nodding toward the front door. “I’m going to call the guy—”

  “Bren Monroe!”

  Tabatha Sweets had come inside.

  Sunday and Monica were right behind her, both with differing expressions. Sunday’s mouth hung open, but she recovered quickly, smoothing a hand down her hair. Monica looked less shocked and more snarly. She didn’t hide her sneer.

  I looked from them to Taz and asked, “You guys have a uniform protocol now?”

  All wore the same sort of wraps, but in different colors. Tabatha wore blue. Monica had red. Sunday had black, and all with bikinis underneath. The only one not wearing high heels was Taz, and they all had hair extensions with their hair down.

  Not one person looked like they’d gone swimming.

  Tabatha laughed. “We just spend a lot of time together.” She came forward as Sunday and Monica hung back by the table. She came right into the kitchen, making Taz move to the side so she could open the fridge. Refilling her glass with juice, she leaned against the spot Taz had vacated. “How are you?”

  I should’ve expected this. She was circling the wagons, bringing Taz in. She had her new backup. I glanced at Sunday. She’d tried approaching me in the fall. That hadn’t gone well. But Tabatha was bigger and badder. I’m not talking physically. Power. I was usually lost in the crew world, but I knew enough to know that Tabatha Sweets was the top of the top, for the Normal world.

  “You’re friends with Taz now, I hear.”

  Her fake smile fell flat. “I am. I’m trying to be anyway.”

  I shook my head. I was going to call a spade a spade. “No, you’re trying to get to Cross. You’ve been trying for years.”

  I waited for the denial.

  She lifted a shoulder. “If I wanted to use Taz to get to her brother, I would’ve done it freshman year.” She looked over to Taz. “I’ll be honest. Race liked you. That’s part of the reason I reached out, and yeah…” She glanced at me. “Some of it might’ve been about Cross. Can you blame me? Your brother is the best-looking guy in school,” she told Taz. “But we’re friends because I do like you.”

  “Are you serious?” Taz’s lips opened in surprise. “You were using me?”

  “I’ve been over here how many times now?”

  She waited.

  “Like thirty?” Taz said.

  “And how many times has your brother been here, much less talked to me?”

  Taz considered it. “Maybe once?”

  “Once. One time. And that was just seeing him walk inside, talk to you, grab something from his room, and leave again. I never talked to him. I didn’t even try, right?”

  “Right.”

  Taz was buying it. She was licking it up like cream left for a cat. She wanted to believe it, and wariness heightened my dislike for this girl. She was good, damned good.

  She was going to be a problem.

  Cockiness flared in Tabatha’s eyes as she swung her gaze my way.

  I stepped up to her, keeping my voice low, because she wasn’t worth the extra energy. “You’re going to want to hope Race doesn’t leave.”

  Now her lips parted. Confusion pulled her eyebrows together.

  “Because if he leaves, there goes Taz’s anchor in your group. We’ll find out then if you become that anchor instead.”

  “Bren, come on.” Taz stepped to Tabatha’s side.

  I felt that itch to pull out my knife again. It was small, but it was there. This girl was going to weasel her way into my friend’s heart.

  That was her weapon of choice.

  I only had one more thing to say. “If you hurt her, I will slice you.”

  I was willing to make an exception to my reformed ways. And I wanted Tabatha to see the truth, so I waited. One beat.

  I meant it.

  When her eyes widened, I added, “I’ll get you in just the right spot so it won’t completely heal. Every time the temperature changes, it’ll ache. If it starts raining, it’ll ache. When you get older, you’ll throb when you wake up in the mornings. That pain will be me. You’ll be haunted by me. You won’t get rid of me for the rest of your life. Even when you get really old, I’ll always be there. You’ll have to take pills to try to erase me, but it won’t last. I’ll always come back. That’s what I’ll do, if you hurt her.”

  Tabatha looked at me in shock, her eyes wide and unmoving.

  A pin could’ve dropped and be heard in that kitchen. No one made a sound.

  I moved around her and walked to the front door.

  She’d gotten my message. I wasn’t like the rest of them.

  Two days later, I was just settling back into being a student again when I heard Jordan’s voice over my shoulder.

  “Did you threaten that Sweets chick?”

  I rounded in surprise, not from the question, but from the person asking. Jordan fell against Taz’s locker next to mine.

  “Tabatha Sweets?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

 
I scowled, throwing my book inside my locker. “How’s that your business?”

  “I’m your crew.” He folded his arms over his chest. “And it’s her pussy I’d like to get into this weekend.”

  “Bad idea.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  I stepped back, my other book in hand.

  Jordan reached over me to shut my locker. Then we fell in step, heading to my next class.

  As usual, a path cleared for us. But since I’d gotten back to school, there’d been more looks, more whispers, more attention. Some of my teachers weren’t the friendliest, but I understood that. I would’ve felt the same in their shoes, and I kept my promise to Channing: I was the no-attitude girl. There were court-ordered rules I had to follow. One legit said I had to cut the crap. So I had, or I was trying.

  Ms. Bagirianni had gotten my participation in her charity committee approved as community service hours. And as I’d anticipated, everything got rolled together, so she was my court-ordered counselor too. The first committee meeting had been yesterday after school, which went splendidly. I said nothing. I did nothing. I just sat. I was happy with the end result, but my counseling was supposed to start tomorrow morning. That would not play out the same way. I was already prepared for another power struggle between The Badger and myself.

  “You know my answer.” I shook my head. “Why are you even asking?”

  He groaned, looking at the ceiling. “Are you kidding me? She’s not going to fuck me now that one of my crew has scared the shit out of her.”

  I shrugged, veering toward the classroom. “She’s been wanting to fuck one of our crew for years. I doubt I scared her away. She won’t discriminate against you.”

  “Wait.” He grabbed my arm. “She wants to fuck me?”

  I could see Cross coming up behind him, and as I pulled my arm free, I nodded at him. “She wants to fuck him.”

  “What’s up?” Cross lifted his head in greeting.

  Jordan turned around. “Since when does Sweets want to fuck you?”

  Cross started to laugh. His eyes slid to mine, narrowing slightly before looking back at Jordan. “Since she started fucking guys. I don’t know. Forever.”

  “Did you fuck her?”

  Cross looked at me again.

  I only smiled. I was waiting for this answer too.

  Saturday morning hadn’t been our only time together. He’d slipped into my bed the last three nights, coming in through the window. He disappeared when we woke up. We just made sure that was before Channing was up too.

  The nights were torturous and drawn out, but so damned good. How we hadn’t had sex yet was beyond me. Cross’ restraint was both infuriating and amazing.

  “No.” He pulled his eyes from mine and gave Jordan a dubious look. “I’d never get rid of her.”

  “But that’s you. If I screw her, she won’t feel the same about me. One good pound and I’d be in the clear.” He clapped a hand on Cross’ shoulder. “Thanks, man. I’m going for it this weekend.” He looked at me, a plea already in his eyes.

  I shook my head. “I’m not taking back my threat.”

  “I know.” He sighed. “But can you try not to threaten her again? At least for this week. Give me a shot?”

  I groaned, but nodded. “I’ll try to refrain.”

  “Thanks, B!” He clapped me on the shoulder too before he took off for his class, an extra bounce in his step.

  Cross watched him go. “He’s like a giant five year old sometimes.”

  I laughed. “This week’s going to suck. I can already feel it.”

  Cross held the door for me, following me into the class. We both moved toward the last rows of seats, dropping into the closest two.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Tabatha chose that moment to enter the room. A couple football guys followed, along with Monica and another girl on the charity committee Taz had put together. Tabatha looked over, her gaze lingering on me before she slid into her seat. The guys sat closer to us, one of them holding out a fist to Cross.

  “Hey, man.”

  Cross met it with his, nodding and leaning back. Our conversation was done. Normals could hear.

  “Hey, Cross.” Monica smiled, sliding into the seat behind Tabatha and parallel to him.

  Cross looked at her, then to me, and didn’t respond.

  Tabatha’s mouth fell open slightly.

  Monica just shrugged. She ducked her head to whisper with Tabatha.

  Cross noticed the exchange and turned to me with a questioning look. I shook my head. I’d tell him later.

  He kicked his feet up on the book rest of the chair in front of him. The other student didn’t seem to mind.

  The teacher came in then, with a note in hand. She read it for a moment before looking around to find me. “Bren, you’re to go to the office.”

  I sat up straight, tension filling my shoulders. “Why?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. The note just says to send you there.”

  My counseling session was tomorrow. I hadn’t done anything wrong. The next charity committee meeting wasn’t till Thursday. There was no reason for me to go there.

  Except get in trouble.

  I had to go. I knew it, but I couldn’t make myself get up. My legs literally wouldn’t work.

  Feeling Cross’ gaze on me, I rested my hands on my seat. My palms were flat, my fingers spread out. “I’m good. Thanks.”

  She dropped the note onto her desk. She seemed tired and distracted, her hair frazzled around her, but she looked at me curiously. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m aware this looks ridiculous to you, but I haven’t done anything wrong. If I go there, I’ll just get in trouble. So, I’m not going to the office.”

  The tension I could feel in my shoulders filled the room. Everyone fell silent and waited.

  Here I went again. Starting trouble, but I swear this wasn’t intentional. I just couldn’t move around the boulder in my stomach. And what I’d said was true—if I went, I’d be walking into trouble. I was never called down there for good things. Always bad. Always trouble.

  Hell, maybe I should at least cause a little trouble. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like I was walking to my slaughter.

  The teacher looked at Cross. “Are you going to back her up if I send her to detention?”

  There was no hesitation. His chin rose. “You know I will.”

  She rolled her eyes, letting out an impatient sigh. “This is ridiculous. This whole crew system is stupid. She!” She pointed right at me, her words directed at Cross. “Is not going to go anywhere in life. You know that, right? She assaulted a member of this administration with a deadly weapon, and she’s still here. She should be in prison, or at least expelled from this place.” There was a wildness to her words. “Bren Monroe! Get out of my classroom.”

  At least now I felt like I’d earned it, and I was aware of how stupid that was.

  She waved her hand in the air. “I don’t care who your brother is or what lawyer he hired. If you lay one hand on me, I’ll make sure you go to prison. You hear that?” She stabbed her finger against the desk.

  I winced from the force, but she didn’t flinch.

  The room was so silent. Someone’s phone buzzed, but no one moved to get it. I stood, grabbing my books. A second later, Cross’ chair scraped as he stood too.

  The teacher’s hands flew in the air. “Are you kidding me? Cross, you have so much potential.”

  He didn’t reply. He just looked at me.

  Everyone watched us leave.

  “You can’t follow her to the grave or to prison,” the teacher called. “You won’t be able to share a cell, and I don’t think you’ll care about a coffin.”

  Her words struck deep.

  It felt like my own knife had plunged into me. I didn’t know it was going in until it was there, and the pain took my breath away.

  I didn’t move for a second, not until I felt Cross behind me. His h
and touched the small of my back, and I jerked forward.

  I debated where to go—to the office, to find out what trouble I was in, or back out the door with another “cut day” under my belt. It was my second goddamn day back, and I already wanted to run.

  Cross stepped close, but his hand fell away. I knew students inside the class could see us, and I knew I looked weak. I couldn’t help myself.

  I felt beat down.

  In that moment, they won.

  “You might not even be in trouble.”

  I rolled my eyes. “When am I not in trouble?”

  He grinned, and I felt my toes curl.

  “When you haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I’m sure they made something up,” I protested. “It’s day two, and I’ll be out of here.”

  “Come on, Bren.” Cross’ hand came to my back again, slipping under my shirt.

  Warmth spread under his touch, and my body started to buzz. My eyelids grew heavy as I looked at him. I knew what he was doing. Even just the slight reminder of his touch had my need for him growing. After the last three nights, I was almost feverish just being near him.

  “You’re not making me want to go to the office.”

  He laughed softly, but moved away. “Let’s just see what they want. If you’re in trouble, you know I’m walking with you.”

  I gave in, going with him, but the teacher’s words haunted me.

  Cross, you have so much potential… You can’t follow her to the grave.

  She’d touched on what I’d always thought about Cross.

  Why was he crew?

  Why was he friends with us?

  Why was he friends with me?

  Why was he with me?

  I snuck a look at him. The teacher was right. He could do better than us. He had a future. He could have a future now. He had the smarts, the looks, and he could do bigger and better things than all of us here.

  He shouldn’t be with you, a voice whispered to me from the back of my mind. It didn’t speak up often, but it was saying something now.

  I looked at him more fully.

  He ignored my perusal, probably knowing what was going on in my head. But I realized that voice was right.

  The firefly was coming back. I felt the beat of its wings, the steady growing of its dangerous warmth. It’d been so long since it kept me company, and I felt its impending arrival.