Mayhem at Prescott High

by Stunich, C. M.

  “Do you think Mitch knows about her and Neil?” I wonder aloud, but Hael just snorts.

  “No idea. I mean, you’d think he’d be a little worried about his girl banging some old cop, but I guess these guys operate under a different set of morals than we do.” Hael muses on the idea for a moment, settling back into his seat as Aaron slows down to a less conspicuous speed. “So, we’re sure that Neil and Kali were fucking?”

  “She was all over him at the school,” I reply, looking back on the moment in my mind’s eye. “There’s no doubt about that. But even if Mitch doesn’t know about Kali and Neil, he does, in fact, know Neil. Remember when he called us the night after we moved Danny’s body? He said the Thing had a message for us, but then Vic hung up.” I gesture loosely in his direction, but he’s too busy looking over his weapon to pay attention. That, or he’s just pretending like he’s too busy with the gun. “They clearly know each other.”

  “I’ll have to do some more digging,” Oscar admits, which is as close to an admission of I don’t know as I’m sure he’ll ever get. He knows it isn’t realistic to memorize the world, right? Maye he’s just aware that his personality is so prickly that he has to give something of value to the group.

  I’m going to crack the safe that is that motherfucker’s ass, and see what cash he’s hiding inside. I need to know about his past, about the Peters, about his feelings that night we made love.

  I exhale sharply as Victor adjusts the song to another one from A Day to Remember. It’s called “Mindreader”, and it makes the perfect backdrop for our ride back to Havoc’s garage.

  There are a couple of boys in skeleton masks waiting for us on the driveway. When we pull up, Aaron parks the Escalade, but doesn’t bother turning off the engine. Instead, he just climbs out and one of the other guys climbs in.

  “Leave the guns,” Vic tells me, tossing his onto the seat as the other boy climbs in. The guy pulls out a container of wipes and starts to clean the weapon, like he’s trying to scrub away any possible evidence. We might’ve been wearing gloves, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something there that forensics couldn’t sniff out.

  We all step back as the SUV takes off and disappears into the night, the red of the brake lights the last I ever see of it.

  “Where are they taking it?” I ask, glancing over at Aaron. He’s watching me even more intensely than usual, and I find myself shifting with discomfort under the heat of his stare.

  “They don’t tell us that, and we don’t ask,” Aaron says, shrugging his shoulders loosely and then turning his head to look up at the moon. “Anyone want to hit the drive-in? I’m starving.”

  “I’ve got to get home and check on my grandma,” Callum says with a longing sigh. “Although I could really use a shake and fries.”

  “There’s always tomorrow,” Hael says, clapping Cal on the shoulder and nodding once. “Good work tonight, recruit.” He winks at me, and I flip him off as he laughs. “I’ll take Cal back on my way home. My asshole dad has been hanging around a lot lately, and I don’t trust him not to kill my fucking mom.” Hael tries to smile to lighten the blow of his words, but it doesn’t work.

  I decide to change the subject.

  “I’m sure Oscar needs to get back to the Peters, right?” I quip, giving him a look that he returns with one that’s colored in grave-sorrows and epitaphs. His gray eyes are like fog in a cemetery, but the color shifts when he moves toward me. When the moon hits them just right, Oscar’s eyes appear silver in the night.

  “You’re quite right,” he says, pausing so close that I could touch him, if I were so inclined. Without his glasses on, he looks like a different person. To be honest, the glasses humanize him a little; he looks entirely feral tonight. “I need to get home to my faux mommy and her home-cooking, my faux daddy and his boring work stories, and my new little sister, a one Miss Alyssa Hart. The Peters already have two biological children that they spoil rotten. Anything else you’d like to know, Miss Blackbird?”

  “Actually, there’s a lot I’d like to know, Mr. Montauk. No secrets in Havoc, right? All I have to do is ask?” I keep my gaze on Oscar’s silver eyes as I snap back at him, hands curling into fists. “Tell me why you ran out on me after we slept together. I want to know.”

  This time, he laughs at me.

  I can count on one hand the number of times I have heard that motherfucker laugh.

  “You piece of shit!” I call out as he backs up suddenly and turns, heading for the Camaro without bothering to answer me. “You can’t run forever, you fucking pussy!”

  “Ball sack,” Hael corrects, and I punch him right in the pec. The effect is less silly and more … arousing than I expected. His muscles are like fucking rocks. “See you degenerates tomorrow then?”

  Vic nods once, and then he, Aaron, and I watch as the other three members of Havoc take off in the Camaro.

  “Why don’t we do the drive-in for dinner?” Vic asks, exhaling and then looking over at me. “Since it’s just us three tonight.”

  A shiver races through me.

  We’re not picking the girls up from Jennifer Lowell’s house until the morning.

  That means … I’m going to be alone with Vic and Aaron, the two boys in Havoc that are the furthest apart, the most at odds. I’m also going to be operating under a whole new set of rules. Havoc Girl. I get to define what that means between me and each boy the same way they define their relationships with each other. Essentially, we’re a family where each pair of people decides how they want to behave together.

  “Let’s do it,” Aaron says, turning to head toward the Bronco and then pausing like he’s just thought of something. He glances back at us, and Victor raises his eyebrows.

  “Yeah? You want something?” he queries, his voice mild but laced with an edge of irritation underneath. He might’ve given his okay to the rest of us, but he’s not happy about it.

  “Bernadette can ride with me tonight.” Aaron doesn’t waver in his statement nor does he ask; his words are not a request.

  “Mm, okay, so,” Victor starts, lighting up a cigarette. Either he’s nervous, or he just likes a good smoke after a drive-by. No big deal. I don’t even consider the fact that Callum likely killed the guy he shot. My boys in black, I feel like they’re untouchable. “When I said you fuckers could work on your own shit, I didn’t mean you could boss me around. I’m still in charge, Fadler.” Vic nods at me with his chin. “Bernie can choose what she wants to do: ride on my bike or carpool with you.”

  I stand there for a minute, feeling like my body is being pulled apart by two powerful magnets, one on each side, desperate for a piece.

  My initial reaction is to flip a coin and let fate decide.

  But I’ve got to be more than some limp-ass, dangling ball sack that crumples to pieces at a simple flick of a finger.

  Since I rode here with Vic, and I want to know why Aaron’s staring at me the way he is, I make the decision and decide that I’m going to stick with it. No matter what.

  “I’ll ride in the Bronco and we’ll meet you there?” I ask, and even though Vic keeps smoking his cigarette and acts like he doesn’t care, his shoulders stiffen up.

  “Yep.” He flicks his smoke aside as I follow Aaron to the car.

  “I have to say,” Aaron tells me as I climb in and shut the door behind me, my eyes flicking back to Victor and his motorcycle only once before my attention lands on Aaron and stays there. “You surprised the shit out of me, Bernie.” Aaron pulls his sweatshirt over his head and accidentally takes his shirt along for the ride.

  I see full belly and chest and ink, all at once.

  Aaron’s chest piece is of a girl and a boy kissing in the rain, a see-through umbrella above their heads that shows off the stormy sky. There are even holes in the umbrella, leaving the couple to be soaked by the storm.

  Son of a bitch.

  I close my eyes for a minute, and then force them open as Aaron tosses his hoodie into the backseat and pulls his te
e back on.

  “Surprised in a good way, I hope?” I ask as he starts the car and turns on the heater.

  The way he looks over at me, with wavy chestnut hair falling over his forehead, the gold in his eyes blazing in the starlight, I feel a pitter-patter in my chest that makes me gasp.

  “In a phenomenal way,” he assures me, looking over his shoulder before he pulls out of the garage drive. Aaron flicks the brights on as we head down the dark street in the direction of the drive-in, the one on the Prescott side of the tracks that serves the best food. It’s called Wesley’s, after the owner’s son. Rumor has it that the kid was killed on the Prescott High campus during his senior year. Of course, this was over twenty years ago, but I know how grief works. Time does not ‘heal all wounds’. That’s a load of shit. The only thing time does is extend the length of time between breakdowns.

  I still can’t look at a frozen waffle without thinking about Penelope. Legit, the last time I saw someone eating one on a commercial, I broke down into violent sobs. That is how grief works. So even if ‘Wesley’ has been dead for decades, I bet his parents still have moments where they can’t breathe, where they wonder if it’s worth it to keep going or if it’s better to give up.

  I look over at Aaron, studying his classically good looks. He’s timeless, Aaron is. He would be attractive in any decade. My mouth twitches slightly, and I look down at my lap.

  It’s just me and him in here, with “Flowers on the Grave” by the Maine playing softly in the background. It’s kind of a sad song, about saying goodbye to the child you used to be.

  After about a minute and a half of listening to it, I feel like it’s wormed its way into my soul and my eyes prick with tears. I very quickly reach up and skip to another track.

  “Are you okay?” Aaron asks, glancing over at me for a minute. It seems odd, that it’s just me and him right now. Just thinking about spending some time alone together makes my pulse race. Victor … just gave us the go-ahead today. It seems impossible, knowing what I know about him, but then, I knew he could do it. I knew he would do it.

  He can’t deny any of us the right to get to know each other.

  How did Oscar phrase it?

  “Bernadette is a member of Havoc; Hael is a member of Havoc. These things are signed and sealed in blood; they cannot be undone.”

  That applies to any member of this group—even Victor. He created Havoc; he told us the one currency you can carry is truth. So I am a Havoc Girl, and he must share. My body breaks out in goose bumps, and I cross my arms over my chest as my eyes squeeze shut.

  “I’m okay,” I tell Aaron, before he starts to think I’m having a breakdown. “And don’t worry: I’m not upset by the drive-by. Well, not anymore upset than a person with a soul should be after shooting someone.”

  Regardless of how I feel, we had to make a stand; the Charter Crew can either submit and fall in line or … Well, look at Danny Ensbrook.

  “What is it then?” Aaron asks, pulling into the drive-in burger place and surprising me by ordering us two chocolate shakes and some burgers. He smiles at me when I give him a look. “What? Even gangbangers need to eat,” he says as he puts the Bronco in park. Looks like it might be a while. I vaguely recognize some of the other cars parked in the rows alongside us, vintage beauties that I can almost guarantee belong to Prescott High kids. I have plenty of time to study them, since this is a proper drive-in. On Friday and Saturday nights, the employees even wear roller-skates to bring out the food.

  “This is just … it feels like a date,” I say, even though Aaron and I have been on plenty before. Still, it’s as if the clock on our relationship has reset; everything feels new and different.

  He rolls down all the windows and shuts off the engine, cranking the music just a bit higher before he nods at the dash in front of me.

  “There are some joints in there,” Aaron says, and I open it to find several of them in a plastic baggy. “That’s our own strain, Havoc at Prescott High.” He flashes me a self-assured smirk as I open the bag and breathe in the scent. Swear to god, it smells like the hallways of that school on a Monday morning, like a pungent mix of cigarette smoke, cheap perfume, and freshly sharpened pencils.

  Even though I hate that school, and I hate this town, there’s something about the smell that makes me feel like I’m right where I’m meant to be.

  “I did not fucking know you guys had your own strain, but why am I not surprised by it either?” I ask, putting a joint between my purple-painted lips. My lipstick choice of the day is called Her Beautiful Decay, and it’s a lovely aubergine shade with a bit of sparkle. It taints the beautiful white paper of the joint as Aaron leans over and flicks the wheel on his lighter, igniting the end and filling the car with sweet, white smoke.

  Our faces are so close, and his eyes are so intense. With the flame of the lighter still flickering, I can see every variation of color in his irises, from the flecks of metallic gold to the gentle flush of evergreen. My breath catches, and I forget to inhale.

  “Bernie, you have to breathe, or it won’t stay lit,” he whispers, even though he knows that I know that. I inhale sharply and he draws back, letting the flame die out on the lighter. Where the flame does not die out, however, is inside of this car. “You know, I’m really glad Victor stopped with his shit today. I want everything to work out for you, for him, for Havoc.” Aaron stops and looks away, toward the car next to us and its fogged windows.

  It’s no secret that students come here to eat first, and then fuck later.

  The owners of the drive-in are from South Prescott, so they’re well-aware of how things work around here.

  Aaron turns back to me, and there’s something different about his face. There’s no less kindness or affection in it, but there is an intensity that I feel like he was holding back before. It’s in his gaze when he looks at me, cutting through the bullshit and stabbing me through the heart like an arrow. Once again, I forget to breathe, and the joint goes out.

  Neither of us says a word as he flicks the wheel on the lighter again and leans forward. This time, though, he doesn’t manage to even touch the flame to the joint. Instead, his tattooed right hand finds the back of my neck, and he pulls me forward, forcing me to meet his mouth if I want the privilege of kissing him.

  This is the Aaron that I saw on homecoming night, the one that I fucked even though I knew I shouldn’t.

  “All I want is to be selfish,” Aaron murmurs, which is very nearly the opposite of what Hael told me. “All I want is for you and me to just cut and run from here, so we can be together, and fuck the rest of the world.” I try to turn away, but Aaron won’t let me. He keeps me there, our mouths pressed close but not quite kissing, not yet. He holds it over me, making me want it even more. “Let’s be selfish tonight, just me and you, Bern. Let’s pretend.”

  “We don’t have to pretend, Aaron,” I whisper back, closing my eyes tight and trying to keep my shit together.

  Aaron Atlas Fadler.

  I once described him as a liar, a cheater, a hypocrite.

  But then …

  Liar.

  He said he loved me, but I thought he didn’t; I see now, in the fierceness of his feral gaze, that I was wrong.

  Cheater.

  I felt like he betrayed me, cheated on me with a monster worse than a woman, a five-headed hydra named Havoc. Yet, as I sit here now, enveloped in their dark arms, I can see that there was never really another choice. We always have to choose Havoc because it means choosing family.

  Hypocrite.

  He fucked me the same night he told me I was nothing to him. He stripped my dress off and let me walk home in the dark in nothing but a bra and panties … then later, he tore even those off and took me. Over and over and over again. I asked myself many times if that night was a mistake, but … maybe it wasn’t?

  Maybe it was foreshadowing for the direction my life was going to take? The road was never straight and narrow, but we got here, didn’t we? We found each o
ther, even with the sharp turns, the wicked curves, the blind spots, and the accidents in the road.

  Aaron Atlas Fadler.

  He's worse than all the others.

  When I look at him, I’m not just obsessed. I’m anxious to see what we might find around the corner. I’m achy and missing the way his lips tasted when we had our first kiss. Mostly, I’m in love.

  I never stopped being in love.

  “We never have to pretend again,” I whisper and there it is, this strange fracturing inside my chest, like I’m losing the very last wall that there was left. Victor has backed down; the boys seem to be in agreement.

  Our girl.

  Tease her.

  Piss her off.

  Make love to her.

  Fuck her.

  They said they wanted me to be their plaything, didn’t they?

  So be it.

  They also said they wanted me to be their accomplice: check and double check.

  “Bernadette,” Aaron groans, and then he’s pulling back and shoving open his door. For a split-second there, I feel panic take flight in my chest. He can’t leave me like Oscar did; that isn’t like him. Aaron is a lifeline. He’s the one all the other guys should thank because without him, I couldn’t put up with them and their shit and their all-consuming blackness. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  I watch as Aaron yanks the rear door open and climbs in, his arm snaking between the front seats and grabbing my waist. Without preamble, he yanks me back and into him, tucking me into his lap and then dropping his mouth to mine like a comet. All fast heat and pressure and impact. His tongue thrusts between my lips, sliding across my tongue, tasting me.

  More than that even: savoring me.

  “Victor might be your husband, but I’ll always be your first love. Your first time. Bernadette, I swear to god, if he ever tries to keep us apart again, I will fucking kill him.” I nod because I can’t speak, not when Aaron’s growling against my lips and holding me like he was always meant to.