Crew, Page 26

  "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 an
ywhere 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 hand 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.

  I was bringing him down. I was holding him back.

  I was spiraling.

  Cursing, Cross reached in front of me to open a closet door, and he pushed me inside. It was dark, and he didn't bother turning the light on.

  This was perfect. The darkness. His mouth was on mine two seconds after he pushed me up against the door.

  Oomph!

  I had one second of notice, and then I was slammed with lust. It scorched me, doubling what it'd been moments ago. I felt like I was going to explode as I kissed him back.

  "Cross," I moaned.

  He only kissed me. He didn't stop, and I couldn't do anything except go along for the ride.

  It felt so good, all of it. The way he held the side of my face. The way his lips pressed against mine, his chest against mine. How I felt his strength, his power, his determination as he drew in a breath. His lips never left mine.

  "Whatever you're thinking--" He ripped his mouth away, but only to take a ragged breath before he moved back for more. "Stop. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to feel the ramifications, but I know you're slipping away."

  I closed my eyes, though it didn't matter. There was darkness all around.

  He was talking to that voice inside of me, and he was right. She was there. She reared her head again. She was the firefly coming to me in the dark. She beckoned, wanting me to follow her, and that was a different seduction altogether.

  I could stop it. I could stop her, but sometimes it was hard. Sometimes she was the only one with me over the years, she'd been all I had at times.

  "Cross." My hands found his waist. I could feel his stomach trembling under my touch.

  "Bren." My name was a whisper. He kissed a trail down my jawline, over my throat, lingering where my shirt met my chest. I'd worn a tank top today, and I was thankful for how low the cleavage dipped.

  It was now my favorite shirt.

  I ran my hands up his chest, skimming over his arms, and slipped them under his sleeves. His biceps moved, shifting under my touch, like I had awakened them.

  His hand slid to the back of my neck and he held me. He straightened. I could feel his lips against my forehead, but he waited.

  God.

  I didn't want to.

  I liked her. Whenever she showed up, I was protected. I was shielded. She protected me from the pain, the hurt. I didn't want to give that up.

  "Bren, please." Cross' lips dipped back down to mine. I felt his breath. "Don't go."

  Don't go.

  His words repeated in my head.

  I felt a strength I didn't know I had, bolstered from somewhere, flowing through me. And like an unconscious flip of a switch, the firefly was leaving again.

  He'd pushed her away.

  I missed her as soon as I felt her go, because I was raw once again. I was exposed.

  I dropped my head to his chest. Cross wrapped his arms around me and rocked me back and forth, his hand sweeping up and down my back.

  "Thank you."

  When we left that closet, we didn't hold hands.

  We walked straight and tall to the office together.

  "You want me to do what?"

  The new principal, Ken Brohgers, stared back at me from across his desk. They made Cross go back to class. He'd glanced to me, and I nodded, thinking it'd be fine. They said I wasn't in trouble. That was the only reason I was okay with Cross going. There'd been too much bad shit associated with it in the past. They said I wasn't in trouble, and this meeting was "absolutely necessary." Only good things would come of it.

  What a crock of bullshit.

  Principal Brohgers was almost as opposite of Neeon as possible. Mr. N was tall, six-three, and Brohgers barely topped five three. That wasn't true. He just looked like that sitting behind his desk. He was probably five-five when he stood up, with a head full of frizzy hair that was losing its reddish tint so it was half white at the same time. His face started off as round, then finished with a long and pointed chin. He had thick bushy eyebrows that jutted out over his eyes, which were wide-set and narrow. In his older fifties, Ken Brohgers was a thin rail of a man.

  Superintendent Miller sat next to him, and they shared a look.

  "Your father's lawyer reached out to the school because he's a part of a mentoring program," Principal Brohgers said again. "They would
like to include our school, but there are stipulations since you're a student here. Normally you would be someone we'd ask to have included in the program--"

  "No!" My decision was made before he finished.

  I knew these programs. Convicts were supposed to mentor troubled kids until they went straight. It wasn't happening. I didn't give a rat's ass if my father's lawyer or anyone else thought I was troubled. That was the pot calling the kettle black.

  "You guys need my brother's permission to even be asking me this."

  "Well..." They looked at each other again.

  The superintendent leaned forward this time. "That's the purpose of this meeting. We'd like to approach your brother about the program itself."

  "Why? I already said I'm not going to do it."

  "No, no." Principal Brohgers cleared his throat. He scooted even closer to his desk and placed his arms on top. "We'd like to work with the crews, get all of them integrated with this program."

  Horror lodged in my throat--one big ball I couldn't swallow or spit out. I had to suffer it.

  "Are you kidding me?" That was a horrible idea.

  "It's not a bad program--"

  "Let me guess," I managed, still reeling inside. "You want to fix the crews, work with the older members and have them encourage younger members to go to this prison, get mentored by a convict, and learn how to be nice. Right? No more bad crews?"

  They just stared at me.

  I couldn't have been far off, so I stood up. If I didn't get out of here, I was going to say things that would get me suspended again. Or worse.

  "I have to go." I started for the door.

  "Wait!" Principal Brohgers stood as well, his hand extended as if he could physically stop me. "Don't go. Please. We want to work with you guys. We don't want to continue down this path."

  I stopped and turned around. "What do you mean by 'this path'?"

  Superintendent Miller scratched behind his ear, looking everywhere except at me.

  "Bren."

  I heard the appeasing voice that adults used when they were about to promise you daisies, yet hand you rotten weeds.

  I wasn't going to like this, whatever it was.

  He tugged at his collar. "Uh...we realize the crew system began because there was a need to uproot a power alliance at this school. While we can understand the attraction crews have for certain students, you have to understand our concern with them."

  My mouth was dry. The flame was there, a small flicker.

  "Certain students?" I echoed their words.