Crew, Page 9

  "I got a good earful last night from my cousin," Alex said. He turned to me. "It was my second offense against you. Now, I'm not saying I don't want war. We outnumber your crew, but having said that, I was at fault. You guys were doing what you have to for a crew member. I get that. So..." He tipped his head. "I'm apologizing, Bren."

  My insides clenched into a giant fist. What was this? I'd expected a fight.

  "You apologized yesterday morning, then did the same thing twelve hours later. I'm thinking your apology is bullshit."

  His eyes grew wary. "Okay. That's fair." He raised his chin. "What do you want instead? What can I do to show you I mean it?"

  "What are you asking?"

  "What do you want?"

  I cocked my head to the side. "Are you messing with us?"

  He lifted a shoulder, his hands tucked back into his pockets. "I'm assuming Jax didn't press charges. All those repairs are on her. That's gotta be expensive." He stopped, like he was mulling over his words. "I can pay for it," he offered.

  His dad would pay for it. Not him.

  If he'd offered last night, I would've taken him up on it. But not now.

  "That ship's sailed, buddy. My brother's covering all the repairs." I narrowed my eyes and waited. That bombshell should hit him hard. It would hit anyone hard.

  My relationship with Channing was what it was, but I hadn't exaggerated his standing in town.

  At my words, Alex's cocky attitude vanished. His eyes widened, and he snapped to attention.

  "Oh." He moved back a step.

  Yeah.

  Two of Alex's crew stepped up next to him. He leaned over, listening to what they said.

  Jordan and Zellman broke through the crowd that had formed to watch. They stayed back on the sidewalk at a safe distance. Jordan kept skirting from Alex to Cross and me, but he kept quiet.

  Before the crowd closed back up, I saw Race standing outside the school door. He was watching, waiting to see what would happen. There was no uncertainty in his posture. His head was high. His eyes were calm. He was ready--for what I didn't know. Alex's words came back to me. "I got an earful from my cousin last night."

  What had Race said?

  "Okay."

  The two crew stepped away from Alex. He scanned the rest of mine with an intense look. "We'll go to your brother today. We'll request a meeting with him." He gestured to me. "You still can decide what I can do to make it up to you."

  "I'm already repaying your debt to my brother," I told him. "It's a family thing. Trust me. He won't let you take my place."

  "Still." His Adam's apple bobbed. "I'll go to him separately, and if you're repaying my debt already, then I really owe you."

  I shared a look with Jordan. He'd deemed himself our leader. He could act like one now. But as if he'd read my mind, he shook his head as if to say "No, you got this."

  I sighed. "I don't know, Alex. There's nothing I want from you."

  His top lip curled into a slight smile. "Okay, but if there is, let me know. I'll hold up my end."

  I stepped toward him, moving out ahead of my crew. Right now, I was the leader. "There will be retaliation if you don't."

  "I know." His eyes held mine. He didn't waver or look away.

  I moved back again. We'd see. "Fine." I didn't have a lot of faith in Alex, but you just never knew with him.

  A full smile broke out. "Are we friends again, Bren?"

  "Don't push it." I didn't hold back a small grin, letting him see it.

  He nodded, giving a wave to the rest of the guys. "Jordan. Cross. Zellman."

  "Alex." Jordan stepped toward me as word spread the fight everyone expected wasn't going to happen.

  The crowd started to disperse. People began heading in.

  Not us.

  Jordan, Zellman, and Cross waited until enough people had moved away that we had privacy.

  "What just happened?" Jordan asked.

  "Ryerson took ownership," Cross said. "He came to offer his debt to Bren."

  "For real?"

  Cross nodded, his arm coming to rest around my shoulders. He patted the top of my arm. "She made him bend down and sniff his own shit. Almost literally. He's going to face Channing."

  Jordan burst out laughing. "That's awesome. Shit. He's going to face Channing? He thinks we're scary; he'll have to strap on a diaper when he goes to that meeting." Jordan looked to me. "Alex will chicken out. I guarantee he'll push that meeting off as long as he can."

  "You think he won't go?" I asked.

  "He has to now. If he doesn't, he's a coward. No crew is a coward. That's one decree we all agree on, but I bet you he'll wait as long as possible." He shook his head, whistling. "We'll see what happens."

  The second bell was about to ring, and the parking lot showed it. The only people still outside were Alex's crew, who were on their way in, our crew, and--I looked over again--Race. He lingered by the door, but when our eyes met, he nodded and headed inside too.

  I'd taken two steps inside when a teacher said, "Bren Monroe, go to the office for skipping yesterday."

  I stopped and let out a full-blown groan.

  One day. I couldn't last one full day without getting in trouble. I swear.

  "Bren Monroe is in my office."

  Nikki Bagirianni, the school counselor, spoke more to herself than me as she looked up at Principal Neeon holding my arm. She put down the phone she'd just picked up at her secretary's desk, her office door open behind her.

  "She skipped the second half of classes yesterday." Principal Neeon let go of my arm.

  Why he had to hold it, I didn't know, but I shot him a look like he'd hurt me. I even rubbed where he'd held me.

  "I told you I was sick yesterday."

  Neeon leaned forward, his arms crossed over his chest. "Then have your brother send a note next time." He nodded to the counselor. "She's all yours for now."

  For now. Meaning there was more to come.

  Exciting.

  Ms. Bagirianni --or Nikki as she usually had people call her--was known as The Badger by most of us. We were crew. If we didn't find ourselves in the counselor's office or Neeon's office, we were doing something wrong.

  "Right." She straightened her silk shirt and smoothed her hands over her hair. It was up in a bun, and her motion pulled out some of the strands. She smiled at me, patting those loose strands back into place. "Yes. Bren Monroe. It's Tuesday. That seems right to me. The new year has officially begun."

  Her hair still stuck out.

  She nodded toward the open door behind her. "My office?"

  Like I had a say in the matter.

  She went in and sat behind her desk.

  I took one of the two plush seats set up in the corner of her office. A large green plant sat on the table between them, and I reached out to touch it.

  The plant was plastic.

  She typed for a moment on her computer before turning the screen off.

  I gestured to the plant. "It's new."

  "Administration decided we need to be green and healthy and alive. So..." She made a face, positioning her chair so she faced me directly. She folded her hands over her lap. "There you go. That's my contribution."

  "You should name him Gus."

  Her head fell forward an inch. "Name my plant?"

  "Yes."

  "Gus?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay." She straightened her skirt, smoothing her hands over the edge. "I have a male plant named Gus. I feel like I should formally meet my own fake plant."

  I picked it up, holding it out to her. "Here you go."

  Her eyes went to mine. "Are you joking?"

  Yes. I shrugged. "You're a counselor. Isn't doing crazy shit part of the job description?"

  "Crazy shit?" She sucked in her breath, shaking her head. "Yes. This is it. I am back to work. Summer is over, and Bren Monroe is swearing in my office. It's a normal Tuesday like all the other years. And yeah." She glanced at her wrist. "That took two minutes. We're back in
our old roles."

  "You're the one who has a fake plant."

  "Because I will kill a real one, and come on--I'm doing the best I can. I'm following the rules."

  "You got mad at me for saying 'crazy shit.' You made me talk to an empty chair last year. Three times," I reminded her. "I had a fight with an empty chair. It was air, and I got pissed off."

  She smiled. "Well, the chair talked back. I heard it too."

  I started laughing. Then I stopped because I didn't laugh--with her especially.

  "You can laugh. Even Gus thought that was funny." She gestured to the plant still in my hands.

  "You should go on tour. Be a professional comedian. You could be famous."

  She didn't even blink. "Lame attempt at getting me to quit my job. We'd still be doing this, even if I did hand in the towel."

  I lifted my shoulder. "It was a long shot." I scratched behind my ear. "I know the whole premise is that I'm crazy and that's why I get sent here, but I only feel nuts when I'm actually in this office. Life makes perfect sense to me outside of this square box."

  "Perfect sense?"

  I nodded. I would back up what I said. She didn't know about the firefly.

  "You lost your mother when you were eight. Your brother was basically nonexistent in your life. And your dad, who had an intense anger problem, went to prison two years ago. I have already heard about two incidents you were a catalyst for--two potentially violent incidents--and the rumor around school is that there was a huge crew fight at Manny's in Fallen Crest last night. No one had to tell me you were a part of that too. That's three incidences in two days, Bren."

  She leaned back in her chair, waving her hand between us. "You and me, we've been doing this dance for a while. Two years, to be exact. You were mandated to come to sessions with me when your dad went in and you went to your brother's custody, but we'd already met a few times after your mom died. You have stonewalled me at every turn. Isn't it time you start talking? Three fights in two days. That's a lot of pain to hold on to. You have to be exhausted."

  Not on a bad day.

  Not on a good day.

  I grinned at her. "It was one fight. The other two things didn't happen."

  "That makes it better?"

  "Yes," I shot back.

  "Okay." She crossed one leg over the other. Leaning back and rolling her shoulders, she put on the counselor stare. She was now ready to try to read inside of me, pull out all my insides and make me examine them along with her.

  Fuck that.

  But I held my tongue as she said, "Round one."

  I arched an eyebrow.

  "What were you talking about with Alex Ryerson in the parking lot this morning?"

  "We were finalizing our friendship handshake."

  "You're lying."

  I grinned. "Do you want a friendship handshake too? You can't have the same one as Alex. He'll get jealous."

  She rolled her eyes, and re-folded her hands on her lap. "Round two."

  We were playing Twenty Questions?

  She narrowed her eyes. "You skipped the second half of your classes yesterday. Why?"

  My grin faded, but I shrugged and leaned back in my chair. "I got sick."

  "It was the first day. It's one of the easiest days of the year. What student skips the first day?" She rolled her eyes at her own question.

  "I told you, I was sick."

  "You might as well be honest with me."

  I gritted my teeth. "I was sick."

  Her eyes fixed on me again. "You didn't answer the other question. Here's a new one. Are you still dating Drake Ryerson?"

  That wasn't her question. She knew that answer.

  "What does my love life have to do with this? Drake's in college."

  She tugged at her skirt. "So you're not together?"

  I didn't answer. She didn't need to know that stuff. She already knew too much.

  She frowned, her head tilted to the side, but she let it go. "I've heard his cousin transferred here, and I also heard he's taken an interest in you. Is that right?"

  I leaned forward and deadpanned, "I've missed talking to you." Not a flicker of emotion. I didn't blink. "So much."

  She didn't either. "I heard he was talking to your crew yesterday morning." She watched me intently. "He looks a lot like Drake."

  "Drake's prettier." I didn't look away. "The new guy helped me write a poem for you. It's from all of us, my crew and him."

  "Do you like him?" She broke eye contact now, glancing down to her lap before looking back up.

  I cocked my head to the side. "I titled the poem 'The Badger Named Gus'."

  She paused, smiling faintly, and nodded. "Okay. That was funny. Round three." She wiggled her eyebrows at me. "I know you live for this, so don't even pretend you're tired."

  I made a face. "Who's pretending? I'm happy I'm not fighting with an empty chair. My life's complete. I met Gus."

  "No kidding. I met Gus too. I had no clue who he was. I just thought he was a regular fake plant like all the others."

  "Nope." I shook my head. "Gus is a troubled fake plant. That's why you bought him. You were drawn to him. Gus pulled you in."

  "Gus is a fucking manipulator then." She glanced at the door, but no one was out there. "I'm not supposed to curse, but it's Tuesday and Bren Monroe is here, so I'm taking advantage."

  "I'm going to tell on you."

  "And I'll tell them you're a fucking liar." She smiled. "And yeah, I'll say the F word because here's a secret: We're all adults. We all swear."

  "And yet you don't want me to curse."

  "Because here's another secret that most everyone knows except you: You're not an adult!"

  I felt slapped by that one.

  "What's going on here?" I gestured between us. "I thought we were joking--"

  "You were being a smartass."

  "I thought we had this camaraderie--"

  "You were making fun of my professionalism."

  "I thought we were getting past the surface walls and going to start braiding each other's hair."

  "When I want a haircut, I'll ask you." Her eyes moved to my pocket. "I know where you keep your knife."

  That one shut me up. I wasn't supposed to have it in my pocket. I always did, though.

  She waited, but when I kept quiet, she tried again.

  "Have we done the dance where you push me away, and I counter with my sarcastic wit because that's the only common ground I can get with you? Can we cut through the bullshit now?"

  I rubbed at my neck. "I don't know. I'm still hurting from your comments."

  She cursed softly, but she was grinning. "You and me. This isn't our first rodeo. You're a pro at evading adults and pissing them off so they go away. I get it. People leave you."

  I looked away. I didn't want to hear about my mom, my dad, my brother, even Max. Or hell, Scratch too. None of them. My throat started to feel raw, the insides were peeling away.

  "Your brother called me."

  I almost jerked, but I caught myself. I held still in the chair. I showed no reaction.

  "I'm only a few years older than your brother, so when I got a call from Channing Monroe, you can imagine how floored I was. My heart started pumping. My palms got sweaty. I mean, Channing Monroe." She raised her hands in the air, pantomiming a large crowd. "Even I'm not immune to him, but what struck me wasn't that he was calling. Parents, guardians, I get those calls all day long. They talk at me. They don't want to hear what I have to say, not the truth." She paused again. "But Channing Monroe, who created the Roussou crew system, called to really talk about his sister. He wasn't calling to talk at me, but to me. There's a difference, and I knew things must be bad if he was reaching out."

  I thought I was looking outside. I couldn't tell. The window grew blurry.

  "He told me you're not staying at home. You're not even going home most days. And he said he didn't know what to do, but he was worried. He didn't say anything about fighting, about skipping school, ab
out swearing. I know. I know. You're crew royalty. It's almost expected of you, but I'm not here to bust your ass about those things. This is the beginning of year three for you and me. I want to help you, Bren. You can't keep me away any longer. I'm not going to allow it, and I don't want to waste your time. I have one year left to help you, so I'm breaking all the rules. Counselors aren't supposed to lead the tone. We're not supposed to argue with our clients, curse at them, curse with them, be sarcastic back--or fuck, be sarcastic first. I'm not supposed to corner you or make you feel attacked, but this is how you operate. Your crew is aptly named. You're a wolf. You snarl. You bite. You fight back. That's how you operate in life and with others. So fine. I'll meet you where you are, but here's one thing that's not going to happen: You will not make me give up on you. Got it? I am not going anywhere."

  I checked the clock. That was blurry too, but I could make out that I'd been in here for thirty minutes already.

  Why was everything so goddamn blurry?

  "Now." Her voice quieted. "Tell me about Race Ryerson."

  "Why?" It hurt to talk.

  "Because I want to know something about you. I really want to talk about your brother. I really, really want to talk to you about Cross Shaw."

  My gaze snapped to hers.

  She held up a hand. "But I know both those topics will have you walking out of this office in two seconds flat, so give me something. Anything. The new guy looks like your ex, and he's related to your ex. You must have some feeling about that."

  My nostrils flared. "Are you serious?"

  "Yes and no." She held her hands toward me a moment before letting them fall back on her lap. "Tell me about him. And if not him, tell me something. I need to know something, anything, about your life."

  Wha--my head was spinning. I heard her imploring tone. It sounded genuine, but this was a waste of time. I would either graduate or not. If I didn't, I'd figure it out. My brother had.

  When the bell rang, I stood up. "First period's done."

  "GODDAMN!"

  The last class had let out for the day, and I could see Zellman and Jordan at their lockers through the crowd of students in the hall. I hadn't really talked to any of my crew during the day, not more than a few words in class or between classes. At lunch I sat with Taz outside at a table. I didn't know where Cross had been. He slipped in late to two of the classes I had with him, and he slept through the third.

  Zellman grabbed his bag and stuffed it back into the locker. He slammed the door, then kicked it.

  "Stay closed, motherfucker!"

  Jordan laughed.