Crew Princess (Crew Series Book 2)

by Tijan

  “I—I had to, Bren! You weren’t arrested! They didn’t make you sign that paper! I had to sign it! I had to.” She was blabbering, just the way she had been for the last hour, spilling secret after secret of the crew system to those cameras. I’d grown nauseous as I listened, but also cold and hard. I was a murderous robot by the end, and my anger had found its target.

  “What paper?” I demanded.

  “I was arrested! You weren’t.”

  She started to scramble to her feet.

  I pushed her back down, standing over her. “Explain everything, or I swear, Tabatha, I will turn Jordan against you in five seconds. And I won’t be making anything up. I will tell him the truth.” I pointed toward the library. “What you did in there should get your ass beaten by any one of us. No one talks. No one! You’re not exempt because you’re Jordan’s girlfrie—”

  “THEY MADE ME!” She heaved for air, her tears continuous. She hiccupped, gasping for breath. “I can’t—”

  I growled.

  Her head hung low. “They made us sign confidentiality agreements and non-disclosure documents. With me telling you this, they could sue my family.”

  I kneeled down. I didn’t give one shit. “I am running out of patience. Talk, or I will do things you and I both will regret.”

  When she lifted her head, her eyes searching, she saw the truth.

  I would rain holy hell over this school if she didn’t tell me what was going on.

  “That’s why they arrested us at the party last night.”

  Finally.

  Surrender.

  My rage simmered down, just a little bit. She was talking.

  “Go on,” I said.

  Her head folded back down. The fight had completely left her. Her voice was so weak, small. “Every student at that party who went to Roussou was offered a deal. We were separated. Half of us went to the Fallen Crest station and half went to ours. I don’t know—maybe to cut down on time since they were running short? But I know every student was taken into a room. A police officer, an attorney, someone from school, and then their parents were escorted in. They were in there for twenty minutes, the longest was forty, and when that door opened, the parents were shaking hands and the student was signing a bunch of papers.”

  “You said a school representative?”

  “Yeah.” She sounded so tired. Her head lifted, resting against the wall, but her tears still flowed. She sniffled, wiping the back of her sleeve over one side of her face. “I recognized Principal Broghers, and then the superintendent came in. That teacher, Ortega, came in later. They rotated, like they were giving each other a break.”

  I was sick to my stomach. The need to expel whatever was in there, as it was rising, piercing through my rage. I knew what they did. I had it all connected, but I needed her to say it out loud. I needed to know it was real, that it was all actually happening the way I’d feared it would.

  “Keep going.” My voice was raspy now, hoarse.

  She sighed. “I got my turn. My parents walked into the station, saw me in handcuffs, and my mom just broke. It was messy and embarrassing, and she was blaming Jordan before she even knew what happened.”

  She paused, her bottom lip trembling.

  I waited until it stopped, until she stopped swallowing past the pain.

  “What did happen?”

  “They offered me a deal: full disclosure and participation in this project to get off. No charges. No fines. Nothing on my record.”

  “What charges did they have for you?”

  “Does it matter? They’d find something. Underage drinking? There were drugs at that party. You know Frisco is still dealing. Trespassing even. The cops said the landowner called in the party, complained about all the teenagers vandalizing his field.” She snorted. “That’s bullshit. Anyone arrested has to talk to the cameras and work with them. Otherwise, charges. I don’t want to deal with probation or even community service. Not this summer. Not right before college. If my college found out about this, they could kick me out. I’m going to a private school next year. They might feel I’m not right for them, and bam, I’m out. What then? Community college?”

  I shifted back on my heels and stood, grinding my teeth together. “My brother’s girlfriend went to community college. She’s doing just fine. Don’t think your future would be ruined if that was your last possibility.”

  I started for the door, not needing to hear anything else. She’d spilled the details. What was next were the justifications, the excuses, the victim-talk. I wasn’t going to feel sorry for her. She chose to sign that paper. They all did.

  They all could burn in hell.

  I’d ripped out the door stop and started to open the door when she spoke up.

  “What are you going to tell Jordan?”

  I didn’t look back.

  Tabatha was a Normal. I had melted, halfway forgetting that over the last few weeks. I remembered now.

  “The truth,” I told her. “You’re a sellout.”

  I got three steps before Taz was in my face. A bathroom pass in her hands, she stopped in surprise, then rushed to me. “Hey! I was just thinking—we haven’t talked about prom at all. Like, at all. That’s weird.”

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  If Taz went in there…if Tabatha came out, I wasn’t sure what I would say. Or do.

  I was still pissed, beyond pissed.

  These cameras were here to mess up our lives—my life—and they didn’t get that right.

  “Bren? Hello.” Taz waved her hand in front of my face, stepping around to face me as I tried to evade her. But I couldn’t do that, not to her.

  “I—what?”

  “Prom.” She frowned at me, waving her bathroom pass in the air, distractedly. “It’s this Saturday. I know we’re all doing a limo together, but what are you wearing? Monica asked about the salon that morning, and I assumed you were in, but then I realized we’ve never talked. That’s super weird.”

  I wanted to groan. This conversation was super weird. I gave two shits about prom.

  “Uh, yeah. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  I needed to find Cross. I needed to tell the guys. I needed to figure out my next steps because Becca would come looking for me, and what would I do then? I wanted to burn this school down, but I was fairly certain the guys wouldn’t be on board with that. So what? Sit tight? What could I actually do?

  “Bren.” Taz lowered her voice, stepping closer. Concern filtered over her face. “Are you okay?”

  “You want the short answer?” No. Hell no.

  But I lied because I knew what I had to do. “I’m fine. Just...worried about prom. You’re right.”

  I needed to go back to that room. I needed to sit there for every interview.

  They wanted me to give them specific questions for each person, so I would do that—questions that had nothing to do with crew life.

  I would sit. I would stew. I would spy.

  And then I would decide what to do—with the guys, but only with the guys. I wouldn’t react. I wouldn’t put anyone in jail or leave the school in handcuffs. That’s what I would do.

  “Bren. Prom. Do you or don’t you have a dress?” Taz was trying to be funny. “That’s the big debate going on here.”

  A dress? Fuck.

  Prom was a big deal to Normal girls. That wasn’t me, but we were going. Taz had begged and pleaded, and we all gave in a while ago. I’d put it out of my head, and no. I didn’t have a dress.

  “I—”

  “I’m just kidding!” Taz swatted my arm, bouncing backward. “Of course you do, but for real, the salon day. Are you in? Monica’s mom made the appointment. It’s at the Fallen Crest Country Club. Her mom knows a manager there or something, and they have that spa now. We’re booked there that morning. You want to ride together? We’re supposed to be there at nine.”

  “Uh…yeah. Sure.”

  Prom. Shit.

  Silence. Total and complete silence.

 
I forced myself to walk back to that library, back to that room, and sit there as they brought in another student. Then it was lunch, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. The four of us met on the bleachers by the football field.

  No one was out here during lunch. If they were, they saw us and turned away. Survival instincts.

  I’d just finished telling the guys everything.

  Crickets.

  “She talked about us?” Jordan finally asked, his shoulders bunched tight around him.

  I nodded. “She didn’t name us, but she didn’t hold anything else back. They asked for her thoughts on the crew system. She gave them. And I’m quoting, she ‘didn’t like the system in the beginning, but recently had a change of heart.’”

  His voice was raw. “Did she elaborate?”

  “Did she tell them she had a boyfriend in a crew? No. She talked about the Ryerson Crew and the new Frisco one, but she kept quiet about us.” But I knew it was only a matter of time. “They’ll find out. You know they will. She said everyone has to give full cooperation.”

  “The Ryerson Crew isn’t here today.” Cross looked around us. “They didn’t sign those sheets.”

  I hadn’t even noticed.

  As if reading my mind, he said to me, “You’ve been sequestered in an office or the library this whole time. You only would’ve noticed in the morning, and who notices then?”

  That was true. I’d been standing to deliver the shitty news, but I sat now, turned toward the others.

  Zellman was quiet, half turned away.

  “Z?” I asked.

  “Those Academy Crusties were a part of this. They had to be.”

  I shared a look with Cross. Jordan frowned.

  Z shook his head. “I don’t know what it means, but they had to have been in on it. They attacked Jordan in front of us. We were there. Ryerson Crew was there. Only reason I can think of that they would’ve done it then and there is because they knew the cops were coming. They knew we couldn’t retaliate, and hell—maybe they thought we’d get arrested and wouldn’t have time to think about revenge.” He growled. “I hate those Academy assholes. Rich pricks who think they can get away with anything.”

  I was out on a limb here, but … “Any chance the guy Sunday’s going out on a date with goes to that school?”

  He shook his head. “Not anymore. Not after I tell her what they did. She’s going to drop him in a second. She got arrested too. The prick didn’t warn her.”

  “I don’t get the connection,” Cross said, more musing than angry. He stood, starting to pace with his head tipped back. “I get the administration working with the police. I get that. This all makes sense on their end, but—”

  “Why would Principal Moron insist on Bren helping them, though?” Jordan interrupted. “I don’t get that. Do they know Bren is in a crew?” He looked at me.

  “I don’t know. I can’t imagine someone not telling them, but this Becca person isn’t acting like she knows I am.”

  “You said she knows Channing?”

  I glanced up at Cross. “She asked if I was related to him. I said no, and then she said she knew Max.”

  “Wait. Who’s Max?” Zellman asked.

  “My half-brother. We didn’t really know him growing up.”

  “Oh.” Z frowned. “I’m sorry, Bren. I didn’t know.”

  “I don’t talk about him.”

  The guys shared a look, and Jordan coughed. “And you talk about everyone else in your life?”

  I grinned. “Touché. It’s not a big deal anyway. Max had a different mom, and he went to Fallen Crest Public. She didn’t let him see us, hardly ever.”

  “Still. That sucks. I’m sorry, B.”

  Jordan rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I know Bren’s dropped a bomb on us today, but I got the cops waiting to talk to me after school. My parents ran interference, giving me the day to go to school, but we know they’re going to show up in a cruiser if I don’t head over there as soon as the last bell rings.” He looked at all of us. “What do I say?”

  “Nothing.” Cross grunted, dropping down to sit next to me. “Usual protocol. Why’s this even a question?”

  “Because there’s video of those assholes getting the drop on me. That’s why.”

  Zellman pointed out, “And those guys were at the party—”

  “No, they weren’t,” Cross countered.

  Everyone turned to him, waiting.

  “If they were there, they would’ve been arrested. They weren’t. Why discriminate against only one group? Therefore, no one’s going to say they were there.”

  “Dude. The video,” from Zellman.

  Cross shrugged. “It’ll get used if something legal happens, but I bet they’ll just ignore it. If they know about it.”

  “So what should I say?”

  “Say you don’t know who got you. They dropped you, and everything after that was a fog.”

  Another beat of silence as Jordan digested that. “Okay.” He nodded. “I can do that.”

  He turned to me. “Kenneth asked you about me?”

  Zellman snickered. “Kenneth. I love it.”

  “He was fishing about last night in general, trying to see if I’d roll over. He didn’t specifically mention you.”

  “Well, there’s that, I guess.”

  “We’re doing something, right?” Zellman hopped to his feet. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he took up the pacing for Cross. The snickering was done. I recognized that look on his face. Everyone did. He was antsy, and he wanted action.

  I stayed quiet.

  Cross was the smartest of all of us, so I’d do what he said. And since last semester’s hierarchy fight, Jordan adhered to Cross’ instructions as well, so it was really Cross’ decision.

  Z knew this. He stopped pacing, and all of us watched our officially unofficial leader.

  Cross shook his head. “I don’t know, guys. I think there’s too many moving parts and unanswered questions. We need more information before we do anything.”

  “What about the buddy system we had going for the town rivalry?”

  Cross shook his head. “I mean, they got you back for the cars. If Z is right, they got all of us back. I think everyone should stay in the buddy system, just to be safe, but am I worried Fallen Crest Academy is going to hurt someone else? No. Am I going to broadcast that? Also no.”

  Zellman growled, kicking at a rock on the bleachers. It pinged off another bench before falling. “Fuck that. I want to bust someone’s head.”

  Cross’ mouth flattened, and he stood up. “Why don’t you go get laid instead? Assert your dominance over Sunday?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want a relationship.”

  “Is it worth losing her? ’Cause it sounds like she’s going.”

  Cross raised a good point, and Zellman knew it. He didn’t have an answer, but he burst out with a myriad of curses, his hands balled into fists, and he tore out of there, heading back to school. The bleachers shook from his momentum.

  Jordan waited until Z was halfway back to the school, far out of earshot. “He’s not messed up over Sunday pressuring him to be in a relationship. She’s pregnant.” He met each of our stares. Not a blink. “Z’s not in love with Sunday. We all know that, but he cares about her. The baby daddy is an Academy kid. The prick wants her to abort it.”

  Oh. Whoa. I hadn’t seen that one coming.

  “Wasn’t she drinking this weekend?”

  “She was acting. You know the drill. Fit in to get by, and all that.” Jordan sighed, standing. “What do I do about Tab?”

  Cross and I shared a look.

  “She’s not in our crew.” I was extending a forgiving olive branch here. See? Strides. This was a big one for me. “I don’t like what she did, but she was vague. That helps.”

  Jordan didn’t respond at first. But his shoulders slumped. “Yeah.” He sounded exhausted. “She should’ve told me, though. I can’t get around that.” Pain flared in his eyes, and he
blinked a few times, a mask falling over his face. “I’m going to need to drink tonight. Heavily.”

  Cross leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Then we’ll do that. No one except Wolf Crew.”

  “Goddamn. Sounds perfect.”

  Jordan stood. “I’m off to catch up to Zellman, make sure he’s not doing anything stupid.”

  I asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

  His eyes met mine, the pain flaring up again. “No, but that’s why I have you guys. Tonight.”

  Cross and I echoed, “Tonight.”

  I waited until he’d gone down the bleachers, heading toward the school.

  “I act normal in there?”

  Cross expelled a deep breath, leaning forward once more. “Shit. Yeah. Why’d they target you?”

  I shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll find out.”

  He glanced over at me. My hand lifted to rest on his back.

  “Talk to your brother about this Becca chick,” he said. “See what he has to say.”

  “Okay.” I rubbed his back in circles.

  There was deeper shit happening now, though. Zellman was hurting for someone he cared about. Jordan felt betrayed by someone he cared about. Our other two members needed us.

  “Tonight,” I murmured.

  Cross sat up, lifting his arm around me and pulling me in. He nuzzled my ear and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Tonight.” He ghosted a kiss down to my lips. “Why do I feel like I always need you? Why can I never get enough of you?”

  I pulled back, just enough to look him in the eyes. “Because you do?”

  He grinned. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  After school, after a quick trip to get phones, I reported to Zellman and Cross how the rest of the day went. How I took note of every single thing anyone said in their interviews. How once they saw me taking note, they clamped up. How that was a good sign.

  Zellman slouched down in the truck, his leg up on the dashboard. “I’ll say that’s a good sign. Maybe people will just shut the fuck up. Crews ain’t no one’s business but our own.”