Crew

  "No." He turned to face me. His eyes bore into mine. "No matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere."

  I felt my throat tightening again, that same damned wetness forming in my eyes. I curved my pinkie around his.

  "We're crew," he added. "We don't leave."

  Oh. "Yeah," I managed. "We're crew."

  "Seriously, are you okay?"

  I nodded. "I'm okay."

  My eyes went back to the house, a different sort of yearning burrowing a hole in my chest. I felt Cross' entire body soften, and he moved his arm to rest over my shoulder. His pinkie never unhooked from mine, and I lifted my hand to keep holding on.

  He rested his head against the side of mine. "You never love the ones who are going to go."

  "What do you mean?"

  "That's why you dated Drake. You didn't care if he left."

  I almost sucked in my breath. It was true. I hadn't realized until now. "That's why I liked him?"

  "Lust is not exclusive to need and love. You lusted after him. You didn't need him."

  A ball dropped from my throat to my stomach. He had no idea what he'd just said to me, and I didn't respond.

  I shifted my body to rest back into him.

  We'd sat like this so many times, but this time, Cross did something new.

  He leaned back, his arms bracing behind him, and I almost fell into him. He caught me, easing me to lie on his chest, and wrapped his arm around my waist.

  He was holding me.

  And I let him.

  We didn't talk for the rest of the night. We never moved either.

  It was dawn when I walked back into my house, Cross right behind me.

  I was going to get dressed, and then we'd go to his house so he could do the same before school. It felt right having this closeness with him again--not that we hadn't been close before, but there'd been a brief interval when we hadn't been himandme, just him and me.

  I'd stepped into the hallway, turning toward my bedroom when I heard the floor creak behind me.

  I stiffened, knowing it wasn't Cross. He was just coming through the screen door.

  "Why do you do that?"

  My brother.

  My heart dropped. He sounded mad, and I turned to find that he was. Or he wasn't. He had bags under his eyes. He seemed to have aged in just the few hours since I last saw him.

  He wore a ripped T-shirt and grey sleeping pants.

  I took a beat to consider my options.

  Technically, I'd fucked up. He had been the nice one, checking on me yesterday, giving me space after the Ryerson fight. And Heather had asked me not to leave, but as I sat in the house yesterday, it had hit me.

  If I followed their rules, they would keep piling them on.

  If I became the dutiful sister/daughter, their expectations would rise.

  I knew the end, because it's the end most families had in mind for their children: he would want me to be normal.

  I couldn't do normal. That meant leaving the crew, and all the things we did as a crew.

  There was no option.

  "Just because you got stuck with the guardianship doesn't mean you get to parent me," I told him. Pain sliced through me, but I raised my chin defiantly. "You never had that privilege, and you certainly lost it when you were absent from my life for five years."

  "I've been here for the last two."

  "Not really," I shot back. "You've been fighting. You've been managing a bar and a girlfriend." I was tempted to name the other thing I knew had happened between him and Heather, but that wasn't talked about. She'd never said it. He never had either. So I wouldn't, but I ached inside too.

  Cross closed the door quietly, and Channing came forward. When he saw him, he shook his head.

  "Fuck. Now I get it." He looked at me, sorrow in his eyes. "I get why Mom was so frustrated." He gestured to Cross. "It sucks being on the other side."

  "Bullshit." I couldn't hold it in any longer. My voice rose. "You were gone, all the goddamn time--when she had to go to the hospital, when someone had to stay with her in there, when someone had to hold her hand, hold her hair back when she puked. Shit. Do you know how many blankets I got for her? How many times I cleaned her face, or moved her heating pad? Do you know I have vomit permanently burned into my nostrils? And that smell. Cancer has a smell. Did you know that?" No. I shook my head. "You were doing what I'm doing now. You were gone."

  He rubbed his forehead. "Bren."

  I shook my head. "You don't get to say sorry now. She's dead. I needed you then, not now. I'm good now."

  "You're not good."

  "Oh, yes, I am."

  I was shaking. I didn't realize until Cross touched my arm to stop the trembling.

  I strained forward, all of my muscles tense, rigid. I was ready to attack, or be attacked.

  "I'm sorry, Bren." My brother's voice dropped to a murmur. "I really am."

  "You missed my birthday."

  "What?" He dropped his hands from his forehead, trying to figure out what I was talking about.

  "My birthdays. You missed them. All of them."

  His forehead wrinkled, and he cursed under his breath, "Shit."

  "I turned thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. I invited you to all of them. You didn't come to one."

  "God, Bren. I'm sor--"

  "I'm aware," I cut him off. "Saying you're sorry and being sorry are two totally different things. I'm immune by now."

  He stared at me, long and hard. I felt like I'd pulled off a layer and showed him the underside of me, and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not--if he liked me or not. Finally, his shoulders lowered.

  "I've been thinking this is normal teenage stuff, but it's not, is it?"

  I pressed my lips together. And even though everything in me suddenly hurt, my eyes were dry. I wouldn't shed a tear, not for him, not for--I swallowed over a lump--not for what happened.

  "Bren." He moved toward me, reaching out.

  I evaded him, backing away toward my room, but Cross moved in front of me. I blinked, and he appeared. He was protecting me against my own brother. No, that wasn't totally right. He was shielding me.

  His back was to me, and he held his hands up. "Stop."

  Channing did, looking between us before his head lowered.

  He nodded. "Okay. Okay. I got it."

  He turned back to the kitchen, but stopped a few feet away. I hadn't moved. Neither had Cross, and my brother looked between the two of us again. A soft sigh left him.

  "I am sorry, Bren."

  I looked away. My dry eyes weren't staying dry. I couldn't have that.

  "I was stupid and selfish back then, and I was a prick. I know it. Trust me. I fucked up other relationships during that time too," he added, sounding haunted.

  Goddamn him.

  I didn't want to hear those words. I didn't want to hear how he seemed to be genuine.

  Air hissed from my closed lips, and I swung into my room.

  Goddamn! That fucker--now? NOW?! Why now? I shook my head. No, no. I wouldn't go there. It was bullshit. Everything was bullshit. This was the safest way to live.

  I went into my bathroom, but I didn't close the door. I stood there, in front of the mirror, and held on to the counter.

  Cross stood in the doorway. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to.

  I looked up, feeling like someone had taken a battering ram to my body. "Did you buy that bullshit?"

  He looked at me, his eyes uncomfortably solemn. "Yeah."

  I frowned, grimacing. A small knife went in me at his words. "You're supposed to be on my side."

  "I am."

  God. He sounded so calm, so steady, so real. He sounded like the foundation I needed to handle all this shit in my life. I wanted to rail. I wanted to do something to Channing--make him mad, push him away--but I couldn't. He wasn't pushing me. I wanted to sever what he'd just done by making the first advances toward something good.

  I couldn't handle that, and I glared at Cross. "Say he's a dick.
Say something."

  "I don't need to say anything." Again, so strong. He followed that up with, "I'm here for whatever you decide, but you don't really want me to say those words, and you know it. Not deep down."

  I hurt.

  It wasn't the injuries this time, and that's why it hurt even worse.

  I adjusted my grip on the counter. I felt the world swirling under me, like I had since I was eight years old, and I did what I always did. I held on and waited. Once the world stopped moving, I'd keep going.

  This time, when it stopped I looked over at Cross. I felt stripped naked in front of him. He saw me.

  He frowned, tilting his head. "What are you thinking?"

  I swallowed. "I don't want to. That's the problem."

  He stared, long and hard, and then he asked, "You feel like not talking today?"

  I had to remember to hold on or I'd fall. The floor could dip out from underneath me at any moment. Everything was spinning.

  I nodded, my neck stiff. "Please."

  "Okay." He gestured to my body. "How are the bruises? Still sore?"

  Numb right now. "Fine."

  "You're such a liar."

  I shrugged, just staring at him. I didn't dare look anywhere else.

  "I'll call the guys. We can do a crew skip day."

  That sounded heavenly. I tried to smile. I failed. "You know all the right moves to make a girl happy."

  He barked out a laugh. "Doubtful. Something tells me I've got things to learn yet." We stared at each other again, and this time there was some extra heat. It was long, and slow, and smoldering, and I couldn't stop myself.

  I stared right back, and somehow, in some magical and miraculous way, under the layers of shit inside of me, I felt something good happening.

  It scared the crap out of me.

  "What happened to you?"

  The next day, when I finally went back to school, Taz cornered me at my locker. Well, her locker was there too, but she already had her books in hand, and she didn't make a move to open her locker. I turned around, gathering my things, and closed my locker.

  "Good morning to you too."

  She wasn't looking at me--her eyes cut to the side like she was refusing to look at me.

  "You were supposed to make sure Race's dad did the sponsor ad, but that was days ago. You've been gone from school, and my brother skipped school yesterday too."

  Jordan and Zellman as well, I added silently. We'd hung out in Jordan's storage shed the whole day. We played video games and watched movies. And we napped, which I was most happy about. The guys smoked. A few beers were consumed, but that was it. We each told our favorite crew memories, and my ribs had hurt from laughter.

  It was one of the best days I'd had in a while.

  "No one told you what happened?" I asked her.

  She frowned and still didn't look at me. "No. What happened?"

  "I went to find Race, but Alex Ryerson and his crew jumped me."

  "WHAT?!" She finally looked up and saw me. She let out a shriek. "YOUR FACE! What happened?!"

  "What I said. Ryerson and his crew jumped me." I'd used makeup this morning, and I covered a lot of it, but I hadn't been able to hide all of the bruises.

  "Oh my God."

  I nodded, hearing the first bell. "No one's said anything?"

  "No. I mean..." She tightened her hold on her books, moving them to her hip as she reached to open her locker. Her eyes remained glued to my face, even as she swung open the door. It almost hit her, but she didn't seem fazed. "Man," she said under her breath. "Things have been tense. Cross wouldn't leave Jordan and Zellman's side, but he doesn't normally anyway, at least when you're not here. I've been busy with the charity planning. We're hoping to get everything done by the end of the month since we have early Homecoming this year."

  "Yeah." I looked up as Race came around the corner. He kept going, but he glanced over. There was no reaction on his face, but I don't know what I was expecting. He'd been honest with us, and we'd shut him out.

  "About that," I said. "I won't be able to ask him after all."

  She shut her locker closed. "Why? What happened?"

  Cross came down the hallway now, moving the opposite direction from Race.

  "Nothing," I murmured, watching his progression. "You can ask him, but I won't be."

  Cross saw me, but then he noticed Race. He straightened up, his face stoic as the two watched each other pass in silence. Neither broke stride.

  "You just went pale," Taz said, a deep frown on her face. "What just happened? What is going on with you?"

  "What?" I asked, but then Cross was here.

  He opened his locker. "What are you guys talking about?"

  "You!" Taz said.

  Cross paused. "Me?"

  "You didn't tell me what happened to Bren." Taz's tone was accusing. "She's my friend too, Cross."

  "Oh." Realization flooded, and his old grin came back. He shrugged, grabbing some of his books. "It's crew business. You know we can't talk about it."

  "That's not true. You guys tell me stuff."

  "Some stuff," he corrected her, shutting his locker.

  As soon as he stepped away, a protected pocket formed around him in the flurry of activity. Students gave him a wide berth, weaving around him, and it only got bigger when I stepped in next to him. We began to walk to our classes, and Taz got jostled as she walked on the outside. Students were darting around her, choosing her side rather than going near Cross.

  As I broke off, heading to my class, Taz started arguing with him. I glanced back, automatically grinning, then realized Cross had been watching me. He had tuned his sister out, and I paused in the doorway.

  Once again, I felt a stirring inside of me.

  I didn't altogether like it, but I couldn't deny that it excited me. It scared me too, and most terrifying--I didn't want it to go away.

  Cross' eyes darkened, narrowing until Taz stopped talking and looked at me. The spell, or whatever it was, broke, and I waved.

  "See you later."

  Cross nodded, the slight blaze I'd seen in his eyes vanishing.

  He was back to normal, but as I walked into my first class, I knew I wasn't. I was most definitely not normal, and sliding into my desk, I had a feeling this was just the beginning. There'd be more changes to come.

  "Miss Monroe!" Mr. Jenston boomed as he came into the room, holding his briefcase high. He plopped it down onto his desk and jerked his thumb to the door. "Don't even get comfortable. You're wanted in the office."

  "What?" I sat forward. "For what?"

  "Uh?" He pretended to think about it, his eyes moving to the ceiling. Like Taz, he wasn't looking at me. "I don't know. Maybe because you weren't excused for your absence yesterday? Or maybe it's your delinquent behavior? Take your pick. What sort of trouble did you get into on the way to school today? Did you stab anyone?" He scoffed. "Yet?"

  The class quieted.

  I heard a girl gasp behind me.

  I leaned forward, rising to my feet.

  "Take that back." Jordan stood just inside the door, his hands in fists as he glared at our teacher.

  Mr. Jenston had been leaning over his desk, staring at his computer screen. Seeing Jordan, panic flashed in his eyes, and he snapped upright.

  "Excuse me?" He tried to glower back, but his voice shook a little. He ran a hand down the front of his tie.

  "You heard me." Jordan moved forward a step. "Take that back."

  All eyes came to me, and I would've liked to feel some triumph at the fear in our teacher's eyes, but I didn't. He looked at my face now, and a shadow crossed over his, but it didn't matter. He couldn't take back his words or the way they were delivered.

  I rocked in place, but I kept by my desk. "You disrespected me."

  "Look--"

  "Do it again," Jordan growled. "Disrespect her one more time."

  Beads of sweat formed on our teacher's forehead.

  "I'm not--"

  Jordan moved in a f
lash, but so did I.

  Jordan went for the teacher, and I went for him.

  "Stop it." I shoved him back.

  We couldn't touch a teacher. Everything would be at risk then. Not just us, or me, but everything. The whole crew system.

  There were gasps behind us. Some guy said, "Holy shit." But other than that, silence.

  A guy from the back row ran from the room. The door slammed shut behind him, and Jordan and I shared a look. We only had a few moments before school security would be here.

  I turned around, slowly, to face Mr. Jenston.

  He was scared. I understood, and a part of me--the part that wanted to be a good student, a good kid--ached at that. I never wanted a teacher to fear me, but I was not normal. I never could be.

  Maybe one day they'd know why, but I hoped not.

  "You know my name. You know my family," I said quietly. "And yet you still talk to me like that." I paused, making sure his eyes were on mine. I felt my knife against my skin. It was there to calm me, and a part of me wanted to pull it out. I didn't dare. This teacher wouldn't understand how it was my security blanket.

  I spoke even more quietly, so only Mr. Jenston and Jordan could hear. "You dismissed me from this class, and you never once looked at me." I pointed to my face. "This is why I was gone. You treated me just now like I'm invisible, like I'm not worth a second look, or even a first look. My absence was excused, and I did nothing this morning except come to school. And when I got here, you attacked me. That's how we view it. When you talk to us like that, you attack us."

  "That's no--that's not..."

  He couldn't talk. His eyes cut to Jordan's, and Jordan stepped back. I felt him.

  Mr. Jenston's head lowered. He pointed to the camera in the corner. "That's not going to show what just happened here, not accurately."

  Dread traced up my spine.

  "Look." Mr. Jenston coughed, tugging at his collar. He looked in pain, or humiliated. I was going with humiliation. Or so I hoped.

  "I can speak up for you, but it will look like you're threatening me. They won't believe me. They'll enforce further action against you both, but mostly against you, Bren." The corners of his mouth softened. "They'll blame you, so the best way to stop anything else from happening is to get that video."

  "What do we do?" Jordan asked over my shoulder.

  We ran out of the classroom as Cross ran in.

  We almost crashed. The guy who'd dashed from the room was right behind him.

  Jordan's jaw went slack. "Thought you narced."

  The guy shook his head, but ducked around us and went back into the room.