The Elites

by Ruby Vincent

  “IT LOOKS WORSE THAN it is.”

  “It looks terrible,” said Derek.

  The five of us were in my bedroom at home. I got out of the hospital a few days ago and was taking some time off from school.

  “This shouldn’t have happened,” said Cole.

  Derek added, “You promised we would do this together.”

  “I broke my promise,” I said, “but I plan on spending the rest of my life making it up to all of you.”

  His gaze softened. “You didn’t really go through this to get the Network back, did you?”

  “No. I only said that because Dupre wouldn’t have believed I was giving him the name out of the goodness of my heart. He thought Cameron and I hated each other.”

  “It doesn’t matter now. The Network is dead. Dominick made it so public that the entire world found out when he was arrested. All of the members dropped out to avoid the bad publicity. There’s nothing for my dad left to save.”

  “Are you guys disappointed?”

  The four of them shook their heads.

  “We have everything we want,” said Cole.

  “Zela,” Mom called. “You have another visitor.”

  “Send him up.”

  “Who is it?” Michael asked me.

  “You’ll see.”

  The door creaked open and Hunter stepped inside. The four boys jumped to their feet.

  “What are you doing here?” Derek demanded.

  “Zela asked me to come.”

  Derek turned on me. “Why?”

  “Because I had an idea while I was cooped up in the hospital. It’s gotten crazy over the years, but we all want the same thing. The end of the battle system. I think I have a way we can make it happen.”

  Hunter surged forward. “I’m listening.”

  “Remember the video you sent to the school? We need to do that again, but I want to add one more name to the list...”

  Final Chapter

  Of all my semesters at Breakbattle, my final one won favorite by a mile. At the start, Hunter and I recorded a video of me sans hood. In it, I talked about my life at the school since my first night. I spoke about the Network, the hazing, the targeting, the fights, the Battle Doctor, and all of the things in between.

  Hunter sent it to everyone at school including one addition: Ezra Lennox.

  Number one on our list of peaceful protests was contact the media and I can’t believe we didn’t do it sooner. Ezra ran my video for four weeks in a row. The principal was inundated with so many calls from parents, mental health specialists, and members of the school board that he had to disconnect his line.

  Halfway through February, he announced the battle system was no longer a part of the curriculum. In the years to come, they would determine what kind of school Breakbattle would be, but it wouldn’t be one that separated kids by class and gender.

  Without the battles, there were no more assigned privileges. Students went where they want, hung out with everyone, and learned that helping someone become better was not cheating. With everyone having an equal chance, we turned our sights to the spring break trip.

  Melody proved her fierceness by organizing the biggest bake sale the school had ever seen. We raised more than double the money we needed to send all of the seniors on the trip.

  My boys and I had an amazing time in New York making memories—some naughty—all over the city. They loved it so much that we got back home, they announced they were coming to Europe with us too.

  “Can’t leave you alone with Moon,” Landon reminded me.

  Our last semester was perfect in every way.

  “And now we have the next four years at university,” I said. I smoothed down Landon’s lapel.

  “Do I pass?” he asked. He did a little spin in his cap and gown.

  “Don’t you always?”

  He kissed me. “Yes.”

  Together, we joined the graduates in the front rows. Parents hooted and hollered behind us—Andronika, Aunt Bev, and Naomi Grayson loudest of all.

  “Good morning, students, staff, families, and honored guests,” Whittaker began. “Join me in celebrating the class of 2020.”

  We stomped and cheered our heads off.

  “The last four years with this class have been the most challenging in my career.”

  That earned a few chuckles.

  “But challenges aren’t to be feared, they’re to be faced. Without life’s challenges we cannot grow. Our valedictorian is a young lady who embodies the spirit of that message. Ladies and gentlemen, Zela Rae Manning.”

  I jogged onto the stage in a shower of applause. Whittaker shook my hand warmly. “Congratulations, Zela.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Taking his place at the podium, I looked out at the sea of faces and smiled.

  “Hello, everyone,” I began. “A lot of you know my story thanks to a certain trending video. I am the girl who dressed as a boy and got into all sorts of trouble. That message was great and important, but it was about what I lost, not what Breakbattle has given me. I once said that there were pieces of me out there that I needed to get back. Well I found those pieces right here at Breakbattle.

  “The first piece, education and a strong mind, I owe to my teachers, Mr. Dawson, Dr. O’Quinn, Mrs. Peterson, Mrs. Munoz, and my mom. She taught me everything from math to conquering the world.

  “The second piece, integrity, I owe to the people who stood for what they believed in even when it wasn’t easy. You inspire me always.

  “The third, friendship, meant more to a girl who moved around her whole life than my friends will ever know.

  “And the final piece, love, I owe to a few people. Love isn’t kind. Sometimes it steals your dessert and tells you to F off.”

  Titters broke out in the space.

  “Love isn’t patient,” I continued. “It leaves without you when you take too long. And love isn’t perfect. It’s messy and frustrating and wonderful and most days, perfect.”

  The audience clapped.

  “I found all my pieces at Breakbattle,” I said, “and maybe you did too. All I know for sure is Class of 2020 is going to be the one to spread education, integrity, friendship, and love into the world.” I lifted my hands. “We’re the class that changed Breakbattle. After that, the world is easy.”

  “Yeah!” They stomped and cheered.

  “Good luck, 2020!” I shouted. “We did it!”

  Fifteen Years Later

  “WHERE IS THE POTATO salad? Noah? Noah!”

  The ten-year-old skidded to a stop and gave his mom a wide-eyed ‘what now’ look.

  “Where did you put the potato salad?” Jordan asked.

  He shrugged and then went back to running around with his cousin.

  She sighed. “Well, this barbeque is off to a great start. Food is missing and most of the guests are late.”

  “It is great, baby.” Her husband tugged her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her swollen belly. Adam nuzzled her neck until she sighed with pleasure. “Just relax. Everything is perfect.”

  “Mom and Aunt Bev are running late,” I said. “Their flight was delayed.”

  “I still can’t believe those two travel and run a blog together,” Jordan said. “Remember when they couldn’t stand each other?”

  “Yeah. That was like... last week.”

  We burst out laughing. The absolute best thing about the home we bought next to the Moon mansion was having Jordan five minutes away.

  “Baby bump,” she chirped.

  I heaved myself off the patio chair and bumped my seven-months pregnant belly with hers. I swear we didn’t plan their synchronized birth dates.

  “So how’s work, Zee?” Adam asked. “Last week at lunch, we spent so much time talking about the kids we didn’t get to it.”

  “Work is great. A new semester is always hectic but my Partial Differential Equations class is a great bunch. We’re going to have a lot of fun this year.”

  “I need to
update you on what fun is,” Jordan says.

  “Oh Zela knows how to have fun,” Derek cut in. His words were laced with so much suggestion you couldn’t mistake his meaning. Thirty-three years old and he couldn’t shake that bad boy streak.

  Derek dropped a kiss on the sleeping three-year-old’s head. Noelle’s favorite nap spot was her daddy’s chest and he made sure he was here to provide it even if he had to leave set early. It helped that his boss/director was his dad.

  He’ll never lose that great dad streak either.

  Michael stepped onto the patio bearing gifts. “Found the potato salad.”

  Our son followed him out. “And I’ve got the forks,” he said happily, waving them in the air.

  Six years old, Michael Junior was a bundle of energy. Michael Senior liked to joke that he finished med school early because MJ demanded to be played with.

  “Alright,” said Jordan. “We can get this party started.”

  “Gotta find Cole first,” Michael said.

  Derek pointed across the lawn. “He’ll be at home.”

  Our second house is where I left my love while our ten-year-old daughter, Kadence played with Noah. People found our setup strange, but they also found our relationships strange so who cared what they thought. We bought a huge, grand manor and chopped it up into three sections and homes.

  Each one had a kitchen, a master bedroom, rooms for our kids, and a living space. Doors between the section gave us the chance to connect as a family and maintain our privacy as four couples. Michael, Landon, Derek and our kids loved living in the big house. And Cole had his peace in the converted pool house in the back.

  It was wonderful because the kids loved that too. They got ridiculously excited for their sleepovers at Daddy Cole’s house.

  “And where’s Landon?”

  “I’ve got to drag him out of the nursery,” I said. “He’s in there obsessing over color treatments.”

  “You remember how he was with Henry,” Jordan teased. “Just be happy he isn’t ordering another three-thousand-dollar crib from Switzerland.”

  I chuckled. Daddy Landon was super protective, but he made sure I didn’t lift a finger when I was pregnant with our son seven years ago, and he didn’t let me lift one with our daughter now.

  As if they knew we were talking about them, Cole and Landon rounded the house, deep in conversation.

  “—have people come in and talk to the students,” said Cole. “They’d get a lot from it.”

  “I already have people in mind.”

  I love seeing these two join forces.

  Landon as the lawyer and owner of the best LGBT youth shelter in three counties, and Cole as the new principal of Breakbattle.

  “The main crew is all here,” Adam said. “How about a toast?”

  We all gathered around the table and lifted our glasses.

  “What should we toast to?” Jordan asked. She patted her belly. “New additions?”

  “New opportunities?” Michael put in.

  I looked around at the people I loved and the family we made.

  “How about we toast to finding our missing pieces and becoming whole?” I asked.

  We raised our glasses high.

  “Becoming whole.”

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Ruby Vincent is a published author with many novels under her belt but now she's taking a fun foray into contemporary romance. She loves saucy heroines, bold alpha males, and weaving a tale where both get their happy ever after.