by Holly Hook
Marion smiles. "Maybe. But Rose Clique doesn't have the same ring."
I smile and nod. I like Marion. "Then maybe the Roses should start wearing cowboy hats and those boots with the spurs on them. The Rose family lives at that ranch, don't they?"
Marion's eyes widen. "They own the town," she says in a hushed whisper. "Tyler's the only child and the only actual Rose in the group. The rest—"
"Are mooches?" I ask, instantly hating my word choice. "Well, I hope not. That would suck, having your only friends be those who want your money." Already I'm sympathizing with Tyler and I don't even know him. All we've shared is a weird stare.
Marion looks at me as if I've grown moose antlers. Clearly no one has thought about the Rose Gang this way before. It's clear they're not the favorites around here.
The teacher, Mr. Williams, starts a lesson about how to balance a checkbook which seems very outdated. Back at Averly, we learned about the perks of multiple bank accounts, stock market investing, and 401K funds.
But back at Averly Private School, people had money.
Tower is a whole new perspective.
Dad should have seen no reason to send me here, but here I am.
Mr. Williams calls on us to answer questions through class, and the Rose Gang girl in the back doesn't raise her hand once. Mr. Williams, a stern old type whose game is clearly picking on each student at least once, gives her a pass. Ah, the old favoritism. So some things are universal.
In fact, Mr. Williams doesn't even look at Valerie, almost as if he's afraid she's going to bite his face off. She hardly seems like the intimidating type with her quiet demeanor, thin blond hair, and narrow face.
I get no chance to ask Marion anything else about Valerie or the Rose Gang as we leave and Mr. Williams erases the marker board starts scribbling math equations on it. The halls of the high school/repurposed garage fill briefly with students as I tuck my Money Management folder into my backpack. "What's next?"
Marion has already explained that the Junior class is divided into two groups: A and B. The groups rotate through the required classes like Economics and Lit, staying together. From my printed schedule, I can see that I'm in Group A (who have progressed to Trigonometry and Advanced Literature by Junior year) along with Marion. So I'm clinging to her for most of the day, with the exception of my two Dad-approved electives, Statistics and Abnormal Psychology.
Gavin must be in Group B, so he's not in Advanced Lit with me and Marion (and Valerie, who once again takes a seat at the back of the room.) Group A is small, maybe twenty people out of the fifty-five Juniors, and the teacher is a woman wearing a super high skirt that billows out every time she walks. Once again, it's no-nonsense, and Marion and I don't get to talk again for the rest of the period. When it ends, Marion smiles at me. "Well, I'm off to Sculpture Two."
"Sculpture Two?" I burn with jealousy. I've always been interested in the fine arts, but they're as forbidden in my household as hard drugs.
"It's a lot of fun," she says as we exit. "Difficult, but fun."
I swallow the fact that I have to go to Statistics and wander in the other direction, weaving around small groups of people and ignoring the stares. It's an elective, so Groups A and B mix together for that class, right? I wander past a trophy case that's pretty impressive and find myself at a dead end with some double doors. Great. I eye my schedule and think of asking where I can find Statistics (Room 22) but there's no one here, so I turn around and proceed to wander around Tower High School like a loser. Room 16...Room 13...I hadn't been paying too much attention to Gavin's tour after he and Marion showed me the Rose Gang and left me with that cryptic warning.
After getting turned around a couple of times and figuring out that Room 22 is near the back of the building, close to where we're supposed to exit to go to lunch, the hallways are empty. I open the door to Statistics and enter.
Gavin's seated near the front of the room and he waves as the teacher, a short guy with glasses and energy, nods. "You must be Beckah. Please, take a seat." At least he's not making me stand in front of the class and introduce myself.
But then I almost wish he would embarrass me in front of the class, because there's one empty seat in the room.
And it's next to the big, tattooed Rose Gang guy.
Tyler himself sits beside the big guy, but he'll be on the opposite side of him as me, and I'm shocked to realize that I'm disappointed. I shuffle over, trying not to look at the dude in the leather jacket as I sit down.
"Great. Now that we're all here, let's open our books to page one thirty-two," the teacher says. He's written his name on the board in small, blocky print, probably just for me: Mr. Jorgenssen. "Our lesson today is on statistical noise."
My muscles tighten and I try to pay attention to the lesson. The big guy shifts in his chair, making hardly any noise. What's wrong with me? Sure, he's wearing a leather jacket and his bald head is a biker's dream, but that doesn't mean he's a horrible person. Or stupid. Statistics isn't a slacker class. Besides, he's just sitting there, watching the lesson.
Why do I feel uneasy?
I take notes, determined to ace this class so Dad can't come up with any more excuses to extend my exile. I busy myself, filling my sparkly gold notebook as Mr. Jorgenssen speaks, walking back and forth in front of his marker board.
The big guy is staring at me from the corner of his eye.
The teacher stops for a moment to draw a new table, and a low, ominous sound meets my ears, barely audible.
I flinch.
Is that a growl?
Sweat breaks out between my fingers and an urge to run sweeps over me. The sound continues, and I snap my gaze to the big guy, raising an eyebrow in a silent ask. Do you hear that? But as soon as I do, the noise stops, and the guy's eyes widen as he catches me looking at him. He bites his lower lip so hard that I'm scared it's going to bleed, and then Tyler slugs him on the arm as if he's telling his friend to pay attention.
I'm confused. What the heck?
Mr. Jorgenssen begins speaking again, drawing a line across the chart and plotting points along the grid. I pick up my pencil, which I've dropped, and get busy with the notes once more. Soon I forget about the strange noise and lose myself in the lesson. Besides, the guy couldn't have made the sound, right?
CHAPTER FIVE
During lunch, I forget about the growling sound and blame my nerves. New school, new people, whole new everything. Heck, a whole new reality. I sit with Gavin and Marion during lunch, which takes place in the separate cafeteria, and I try not to look at the Rose Gang seated at their own round table on the other side of the room.
But that last part is hard.
"Who's the big guy?" I ask.
"Oh. That's Alan," Gavin says. "He ran away from home years ago and hasn't been back there since. I guess his dad was a major dick. But he stayed in school. So he must be living somewhere nearby."
"He just...ran away from home before the legal emancipation age?" I ask.
"He was eleven. Twelve, maybe," Marion says.
"You're both talking as if this is normal," I say, shaking my head. "Nobody called child protective services?" What kind of place is Tower?
Marion eyes me as if I'm the weird one or as if I'm seeing the real world for the first time. "Alan's father was the sheriff. And nobody comes out here, anyway, except for the Roses' customers and maybe a few adventurous hikers. And those people don't mingle with us."
"Was?" I ask.
Gavin spears his green beans. "Well, he left town shortly after Alan ran away and started hanging with Tyler. And nobody knows why. The whole thing is creepy."
"Alan supports himself now?" I ask. Nosey, but the more I learn, the more I don't understand.
"The Rose Gang keeps to themselves. They go somewhere after school every day. No one knows where that is." Marion swallows and lets her gaze dart back and forth. "There are parts of the woods around here that just, well, don't feel right. Like we aren't supposed to be there."
I chew my food slowly and swallow for effect. "This is not normal. Maybe they just hang out at that big mansion all the time?"
"Only they don't," Gavin says. "We see them, well, walking off into the woods all the time. That's the way it is around here. And those spots Marion's talking about? I don't venture into them, even with my hunting rifles."
"Well, a group of kids needs to do more than just keep to themselves to intimidate me." Whatever weirdness is happening seems to be on the people of this town and not on the Rose Gang. Right? That weird growl I heard was just some sound effect, maybe from a plane flying over the school.
"You can't feel it?" Marion asks, leaning forward.
"Feel what?"
"The dread. They just give it off. Everyone who starts hanging out with Tyler just catches it."
"I haven't noticed anything." I chew on the greasy pizza that is the cafeteria's main offering today. The food is noticeably less whole than Averly Private School's and more Stan's Frozen Food Supply. But at least it's food and I'm starving.
"Wow. Anyway, the Roses are a source of endless speculation," Gavin says, scooting over to partially block my view of them. I don't miss the gesture. Gavin smiles. "No one ever comes to any conclusions, so it's not worth thinking about."
"Come on. There's nothing else to do here," Marion says.
"You can hunt. Live off the land."
Tyler's looking at me again. Our gazes meet from across the room but then Valerie tugs on his sleeve and says something to him. He goes back to his huddle with his friends. At least Alan's got his back turned to me, but from here I can see the tattooed fur hackles on the back of his head.
We make small talk about teachers and divide once again for our next class, Chemistry. Well, we in Group A have Advanced Chemistry. Dad will approve, at least, which is good considering the teacher is boring and drones on and on. Marion and I move on to our fifth hour, Government, and then divide once again for the final hour of the day.
I enter Spanish II to find both Tyler and Alan seated in the back, along with Valerie and the other Rose Gang girl. Tyler's got one dark lock over his eye and once again, we glance at each other, but the hard look and the sharp smile I get from Alan propels me to sit down at the front of the room. Prickles race up and down my back as I try to pay attention to the lesson, taking organized notes and drawing tables since we're not quite on the same chapter of Spanish II as we were back at Averly. I've got some catching up to do, and besides, Marion and Gavin don't share this elective with me.
We divide into groups for a lesson on talking about money, but neither Tyler nor Alan end up in my group. The two of them, plus the girls, stick to themselves and the teacher makes no effort to divide them up. Yeah, they're like the rich inner circle guys back home who no one ever tried to touch. That's it.
The recorded bell sounds over the cheap PA to end class and I get up, eager to be out of the building where Gavin and Marion said they'd wait for me. Backpack laden with books, I realize that I haven't visited my own locker all day. So I eye my schedule for my locker number. One sixty-two, close to the end of the trophy hall. I was near it earlier and didn't realize.
Hardly anyone's using this row of lockers down this way and the lack of graffiti tells me that the Tower Junior class isn't exactly growing. The school quiets as I drop my backpack and spin the manual combo lock around. Yikes. I feel dumb. I'm used to electronic locks, but after several minutes, I figure it out and get the locker open.
"Why hey, baby."
I whirl.
Alan stands between me and the intersection to the next hall, one hand on a locker. He leans, just basking in that bad boy biker persona. This is the first time I've seen him this close, and the tattoo on the top of his shaved head is that of a dog or wolf with its teeth pointing down at Alan's eyes. It looks expensive with all that detail in the creature's eyes and fur, like Tyler Rose must have funded it. Despite that, Alan's well-built, clean, and given that he's in Statistics, probably not an idiot.
"Hey," I say, keeping my voice level. I go to work shoving my stuff in my locker and separating out my books.
He doesn't offer to help. "So you're new. Did your parents send you to stay with us here in Tower?"
Something lurking between his words sends a shudder up my spine, a shudder that I hate. Was this what Marion meant by the sense of dread? My thoughts go to the door behind me that leads outside, the one at the end of the hall. I'm not in a dead end, but I might as well be in one.
Wait. Alan is just trying to talk. I'm not judging him by his looks.
"So word's spreading. Great," I say, closing my locker. I immediately wished I hadn't because now I have nothing to help me look busy and unable to talk.
And there's a problem.
I haven't told anyone here at Tower High School that my parents sent me here.
Sure, he could be making an assumption, but it's a long shot. Maybe he heard something from the principal's office or word spread about my dad enrolling me before I got here.
"Yeah. Word's spreading." He creeps closer, soundlessly approaching like a mountain lion stalking its prey. How can he do that without his boots so much as making tapping sounds on the floor?
I don't like this but I don't want to be a jerk. "Well, I've got to make the best of it, don't I?" I ask. "I've figured out how to get around the school okay, at least." Hint, hint.
But Alan takes his hand off the adjacent locker and moves to stand between me and the intersection. No one stands behind him. The school seems to have cleared out thanks to me wasting time on my locker.
We're alone.
"That's great." He flashes his very white teeth, teeth that don't belong in the mouth of a biker. Wait, that's me being judgmental again. From the looks of it Alan doesn't even smoke. "Say, I'm Alan. You should go out with me this weekend. I'd be happy to show you around Tower. We'll have some fun. Just you and me, baby."
Baby?
He hasn't even asked for my name yet.
I'm sorry, but you just uttered a deal breaker. The words try to form in my throat but my tongue won't work. My mind searches for an excuse as he waits. Alan's pupils widen. There's something strange in them, something ready to shift at any moment, something...dangerous? I let out a breath. I need an excuse that won't piss him off hurt his feelings. The last thing I want on my first day is any added awkwardness.
"Maybe sometime that would be awesome, but this weekend isn't good. I've got a full schedule already," I say.
"A full schedule?" He lifts an eyebrow. "Doing what? Weeding a garden? Hiking in the woods? You know, there are wild animals in the woods. It's not like the city." Alan turns the corner of his mouth up into a grin.
He knows I'm from the city? "Yes. That's exactly it." My cousin will be working at the Tower Market all weekend. Which will imply I'll be left alone taking care of food. "It sucks. I'll have to see what time I can get free. Not to mention, I'm swamped with advanced classes right now."
"Oh, come on." Alan leans closer. "You can make the time." His eyes warn me that no is the wrong answer.
"For now, I'm good, but I'll think about it and let you know after this weekend." I grab my backpack, put it on, and turn to the door at the end of the hall.
"Hey. I'm talking to you." Alan raises his voice, trying for a friendly tone, but he fails miserably. "Hey."
He's following me, letting his boots click against the floor.
I pick up my pace, praying the door swings outward.
"Whoa, Alan."
A soft thud follows, the air shifts, and I stop, whirling.
Tyler Rose stands behind Alan, and though he's a head shorter than the other guy, he maintains his grip on Alan's shoulder so tight that the leather looks ready to rip.
"Let the new girl breathe," Tyler says, all cool and fearless.
I hold in my sigh of relief. "Yes," I say, forcing a smile. "I just got here and I'm still trying to get used to everything." It's a lame excuse, but I'm glad I can smooth things
over.
"I was just talking to her," Alan says, fixing Tyler in an intense stare. After I think he's about to take a swing at Tyler, he pulls out of his grasp and brushes off his leather jacket. "Stop being such a prude, man."
"The term you're looking for is gentleman. You know, a guy who doesn't creep out the ladies." Tyler maintains his composure even as Alan continues to glare at him. Uh, oh. Tyler looks athletic, but Alan could probably turn him into a grease spot on the concrete floor with a few well-placed hits.
"It's okay," I say. "Really. We were just talking."
Alan grins. "See?" He motions to me, but Tyler doesn't look convinced.
"Hey? Beckah?" The door behind me opens with a creak and Gavin pokes his head in. "We were wondering where—"
"I'm coming," I say.
"Are you okay?" Tyler asks.
"I'm fine." I nod my thanks to Tyler, knowing it's rude to cut and run, but Alan is still standing there and refusing to back down.
And Tyler looks to Gavin, face falling. The meaning is clear.
Everyone wants the new girl. And the new girl doesn't know where to go.
CHAPTER SIX
Gavin's more than happy to lead me towards his truck which is parked at the edge of the lot. He says something about how everyone with hunting rifles in their truck is required to park on the far side of the lot. And how all guns have to stay unloaded and covered. Wow. Safe.
"Right over here." Gavin's truck has a set of deer antlers mounted on the front window, right over where the rearview mirror is hanging. Clearly he's a big time hunter, but with deer antlers on his window? Well, it beats focusing on Alan and his not-so-subtle way of asking me for a date.
