Crew, Page 7

  "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 fight... 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."

  I looked at my brother and saw he meant it. But my anger still burned. I could only clip my head in a tight nod.

  He should know someone touching me against my will would set me off. But the sad part was, he didn't.

  The new guy was watching me, a captive audience. I looked at him, but he didn't turn away. There was no shame in his gawking.

  Panic rose in me.

  I couldn't. I couldn't stand here, not with my brother and what he didn't know, and Race and what he shouldn't know.

  "I gotta walk," I told them as I took off, shoving my hands into my pockets.

  I wanted to slink down. I didn't.

  They were all watching me, so I kept my head up and my shoulders back.

  A moment later, I heard a second pair of feet on the ground behind me. Expecting Cross, I didn't say anything. He wouldn't press me, knowing I would talk when I wanted. We could walk in silence. Sometimes that's all I wanted.

  But then it was Race who said quietly, "None of them know?"

  I whirled to him, seeing red, and a second later, I had him backed against a tree, my knife at his throat.

  I blinked a few times.

  He was saying something...

  I couldn't--what was I doing? I wasn't in control, but I didn't retract my knife. It was right there. If I leaned forward into it, it would break his skin.

  My eyes locked with his.

  He stood still. Calm. Waiting.

  I was frozen in place, but then my hand began to twitch.

  "What are you talking about?" I demanded.

  "Who touched you against your will?"

  God.

  I shook my head, pulling my knife away from his neck. "You don't have the right to talk to me like that."

  His mouth opened. He was going to argue, then he closed it. He nodded. "You're right. I don't. I don't know you."

  Finally.

  An invisible weight lifted off me.

  "I feel like I do, though."

  I shook my head, going over to a bench Jordan's dad had built for his mom. It was set to look over the entire lot, with a walking trail leading into the woods behind us. It wasn't the only path. They were all over. I took comfort in knowing I could slip away. I could take one path, then another, and another until I was gone.

  "Drake spent the summer with my family, and he and I were inseparable," Race said. "He talked about you. A lot. He told me about Jordan, about Zellman. Alex has always been my cousin, but I've not been that close to him. My dad doesn't get along with Alex and Drake's dad. There's family fighting, so it was nice when Drake stayed with us. I'm an only kid. It was like I had a brother for a summer."

  He moved to lean against a tree about ten feet from me--close enough for a private conversation, far enough that I had my own space.

  "He never said anything about Cross. Seeing how close you two are, I have to imagine there was a reason."

  What? I looked up at him. "What are you implying?"

  He shrugged. "Nothing."

  I snorted. "You'd suck at poker."

  "Drake wouldn't tell me why you guys broke up."

  Goddamn. I felt his accusation more than I heard it. He was a stranger. A stranger. He fought with us once. I should rile up. I should...do something, but I was tired. It felt like I had bursts of fight in me. I'd rail against whoever I needed to, whoever was trying to hurt me, push me around, use me, whatever. But then that burst of energy would leave me
drained, and the age-old tiredness from life settled back into my bones.

  I was starting to ache for some Cross time.

  I returned my attention to Race. "If you're accusing me of being a cheating whore, my knife is coming out."

  The heat was feigned in my voice. My fight was gone.

  He laughed. "You're not then?"

  "Drake dumped me. Whatever he said, however he talked about me, I was not some love of his life. When he graduated, he wanted nothing to do with me or his group. He left all of us."

  "Yeah." Race frowned. "He didn't mention that."

  "Makes you wonder. He left out the heavy subjects, but rattled on about me, Zellman, and Jordan. He didn't give two fucks about those two either. They were like ants to him." I stood from the bench. "Do yourself a favor. Don't read into anything he told you."

  "I'm starting to get that."

  Easy laughter traveled up to us, and I felt another kick in my chest. Channing was still standing with the guys. He could laugh with them, but he only yelled at me.

  Maybe recently that had been my fault. I ignored him. I came and went as I pleased. I didn't ask him for anything. I didn't give him anything. We were like hostile strangers in the same house.

  I was the aggravating little sister. He didn't understand why I did anything. I wouldn't open up when he asked. I didn't eat dinner when he invited me. Even when he was angry, I would just leave. And if he tried to block me in the hallway, I'd go to my room and slip out through the window.

  Every room in the house had an escape route.

  Sadly, he had no clue, and maybe that was the problem.

  Channing never did anything to me. He didn't help me, but he didn't hurt me. He just wasn't there until two years ago, and even that was hit-and-miss most the time. And it wasn't that I wished he had been.

  I was jealous.

  He'd gotten what I wanted--and I had to turn my thoughts off on that. That was for another night, one accompanied by hard liquor. Lots of liquor.

  Race coughed once, tugging at his collar. "Look, I don't know anything."

  Shit. I'd forgotten he was here.

  "What?" I went still. Did he mean... I held my breath a moment.

  "Before, at school." He cringed. "I was bluffing. I knew you and Drake dated, and exes always know secrets. I was throwing something out there, just trying to push you guys off balance." He held his hands up. "I swear. Drake never told me any secret about you."

  I was still wary of him. "Why'd you fight with us tonight?"

  "Because my cousin was wrong."

  I eyed him.

  "I'm not crew, obviously, but I'm not a pussy. And I'm not a bad guy."