Mayhem at Prescott High

by Stunich, C. M.

  Everyone needs a goal in life, don’t they? A dream? As ours were stripped from us, one by one, I think we all took this sweet, little girl who needed us and turned her into an obsession.

  I almost feel sorry for Bernadette, being at the mercy of Havoc.

  “Jesus,” she groans a little while later, sitting up and blinking sex and sleep from her eyes. “How long have I been out?”

  I smile at her.

  “Not long,” I reply, sitting up next to her. We’re both naked, but it doesn’t matter. Nobody would dare bother me in here while the door is locked. If they did, not even god could save them. My hands itch to spill blood, but I quell that need by stroking Bernie’s beautiful hair back from her face. “Do you want to try to actually dance some before we bail out?”

  She looks back at me, blushing slightly and glancing away. As if the blush has angered her, she narrows her eyes on the floor, gaining control of her emotions before turning back to look at me again.

  “Actually, I’d like that,” she says, shrugging her shoulders loosely and then forcing herself into a sitting position. “But maybe you could also teach me how to move in the shadows the way you do?”

  I quirk a brow, sitting up beside her and smiling at the idea of any of the other instructors or students catching our flushed faces on the way to the bathroom to clean up. That should be fun.

  “How to move in shadows, huh?” I ask, thinking on the subject for a minute. It never really occurred to me that that was a skill of any worth. It’s just something I’ve always done, tried to move without being seen or heard. It’s better that way, isn’t it? Other people rarely hold goodwill in their hearts in this part of town, so it’s just best to go at it assuming violence is on the roster. “Yeah, I could do that. You’ll have to bear with me though; this’ll be a learning experience for both of us.”

  “Well, you are a teacher,” she says, giving me a stern look that quickly devolves into another smile. A pang hits my heart, making me exhale in surprise. I think … that Bernadette actually likes me. And I mean something beyond lust, or the fact that we go way back, or even our obsessive natures. No, she looks at me, and she makes me feel like a person, not just a disgraced dancer. Not just the C in Havoc. But Callum Acosta Park. A human. “A naughty one who likes to play with his students, apparently.”

  “Oh, you have no idea what I want to do to you, Bernadette,” I say, still smiling, even as my voice darkens with lust. “Shall I teach you how to sneak a knife past security? That’s one of my favorite games, to see what sort of weapons I can get into Prescott.”

  “Please, for the love of god, yes. I get the feeling that I’m going to need a weapon in those halls sometime soon. Things are about to amp up, aren’t they?” I nod at her words, but I hope she can see that I’m not afraid.

  We will pull out of this victorious; I’m sure of it.

  “Well, then, let’s get you cleaned up, and get started. The sneaking around, and the knife shit, I think you’ll be able to get no problem. The dancing … might devolve into more sex. I’m not sure that I can properly teach you without succumbing to every dark, dirty thing I want to do to you.”

  “Get stuffed, Cal,” Bernie starts, but when she tries to get up, I grab her and drag her back down to the floor for another round.

  If she’s too sore to practice after this, I won’t be able to blame her.

  Not one bit.

  When Bernadette and I come out of the dance studio, we find Oscar waiting for us.

  “You’re here alone?” I ask him, my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, my body aching in all its broken places. The day I lost my dance career, I also lost the chance at a life without pain. Everything on me hurts, all the time. I have metal pins in my bones; I have parts that didn’t quite heal right. And I don’t just mean my heart. That healed in a very twisted, very strange sort of way.

  Yes, but Bernie loves you the way you are. If it took losing everything to have her, then you’ll have gained a lot, Cal.

  “I don’t need an escort,” Oscar quips, flaunting the rules of Havoc like he always does. He thinks he’s invincible. Well, he will until one day he just … isn’t. That’s how I discovered my mortality: by losing my invincibility. I smile, because it seems to freak people out when I do that. Maybe they can sense that I’m always just this close to losing it?

  “Why are you here?” Bernie bites out, her hair still a bit tangled, her face still a bit flushed. She glances my way, and I can feel my smile turning into something darker, but with more meaning. She lights me up inside in a way that I can’t explain. I suppose that some things require no explanation; they just are. That’s Bernadette to me. I have always loved her, but it seems pretty self-explanatory as to why I do.

  She’s strong. She’s got conviction. She acts like she doesn’t care when she cares a whole hell of a lot.

  Also, she’s mine now, just like I’ve always wanted.

  I look back at Oscar and find his gray eyes narrowed. He can tell we just fucked; I know he can.

  “Yeah, we just had sex for the first time. And guess what?” she asks, tilting her head slightly to one side. “Callum didn’t get up and run away.”

  I bark out a laugh and they both jump slightly. Pretty impressive, I must say, to get a reaction out of Oscar at all. Either I really am a bigger monster than him, or else Bernadette has thrown him so far off his game that he’s making mistakes.

  “How lovely for the pair of you; I’ll start planning your future commitment ceremony.” Oscar turns back to me with a sharp frown etched into his face. I think he should tell Bernadette the truth, about being a virgin and what-the-fuck-ever. I mean, if what Hael said is really true. He neither confirmed nor denied it.

  My body itches with the need to move, but I’ve had plenty of practice at sitting still, too. All those nights on Bernie’s roof, my fingers pressed to her window, my heart in my throat. Today, we’ve made it official. Today, I’ve cemented the fact that I’m most definitely the character that has to die. I’d do it happily, too, sacrifice myself to keep her safe.

  It’d be an honor.

  I chuckle and Oscar’s frown gets even deeper.

  “We need to get clothes, for the winter formal,” he says, like the very idea of attending the dance or the afterparty makes him want to throw his body off of a cliff. “I can’t wait until we graduate, and this nonsense is behind us.”

  “Oh, come on,” I say with a grin, tossing an arm around Bernie’s shoulders and bringing her close so I can smell her sweet hair. Peaches and leather, that’s her signature scent. I could exist solely on the scent of her, on the brightness of her smile, on the sassy sway of her walk. I am truly infatuated with her, likely to the point of unhealthy obsession, but nobody needs to know that, now do they? “This could be fun. We get to show off our girl, make a few freshmen piss themselves, maybe kill a couple of Mitch’s friends in the shadows.”

  Oscar doesn’t look amused at my joke.

  “Are we going to an actual store this time?” Bernadette asks, snuggling closer to me. Oscar watches us with a burning jealousy in his gaze that he masks with a look of vitriolic indifference. “Or some teen mom’s trailer?”

  “We’ll steal what we need,” Oscar explains, turning away and heading down the sidewalk like he expects us to follow after him. Hmm. I look down at Bernadette at the same moment she looks up at me.

  “Is he just broken on the inside or something?” she asks, and I shrug. I have the urge to gather her up in my hoodie, snuggle her into the folds, and murder anyone who dares look at her wrong. Why not just do it then, Cal? You don’t have to hold back anymore. She’s ready to see who you really are. I gather Bernie close, enveloping her in my arms and putting my head atop hers, so that she’s completely wrapped up, completely protected.

  “If he is, does it matter?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer. I know what she’d say though, if she bothered to tell me the truth: no, it doesn’t. Because we are her heart, just as she is ours. We be
at and bleed together. “Come on, let’s get this over with, so we can go back to Aaron’s and fuck some more.”

  Bernie hits me in the chest, but it’s a playful smack. When she reaches up her fingers to play with the scars on my throat, I let her. Only she can touch them. They are only for her.

  I pull a small package of red licorice from my pocket and bite the end off a piece.

  “You like to snack, don’t you?” she asks, and I shrug.

  “If my body isn’t moving, my mouth might as well be.”

  She laughs, falling into step beside me as we head down the sidewalk after Oscar. As we walk, I keep my gaze moving, looking for anything that’s out of place. If the Charter Crew rolls up on us, I’ll know. There will be no drive-by shooting on us while I still live and breathe.

  “What do you think you’ll wear to the formal?” she asks, twisting that last word on her tongue like the ironic joke that it really is. Formal? Prescott High? Nah ah. No way.

  “A hoodie and shorts?” I ask with a loose shrug of my shoulders. But then … “Or, really, that’s what I’ve always worn. I want to do better by you this time. What do you want me in?”

  “I can pick your outfit?” she asks excitedly, and I shrug. I wore a tux to her wedding, despite the fact that I felt like the fabric was choking the life out of me. I prefer clothes I can move in. Don’t care if I’m dancing or fucking or spilling blood. It always makes the most sense to choose function over aesthetic.

  “Anything you want,” I say, putting a hand over my heart. Oscar makes a sound of annoyance, but I don’t see why he’s so salty. If he could just open up and tell Bernie all his secrets, he’d see why we all needed her so damn badly. She’s here to stroke our demons down, pet them into submission, kiss them into fealty. Why can’t Oscar see that? I always thought he was a smart man. Not so much today. “As long as it doesn’t include sequins, glitter, or tulle. I wore far too many pretty dance costumes as a kid; I can’t handle that shit anymore.”

  “Deal,” Bernie replies with a feral grin, tossing her pink-tipped blond hair over her shoulder. My eyes trail down to the scoop neck shape of her top and the tantalizing bit of cleavage. “What? Now that we’ve had sex, you get to perv on me all you want?”

  “I mean, I don’t see why not …” I shrug my shoulders, tearing off another bite of licorice as Bernadette slaps my arm. There’s nowhere around here that’s worth walking to, so I’m not surprised when Oscar leads us down a narrow alley and over to Hael’s Camaro.

  He’s tapping his hands on the wheel and singing far too loudly, and far too off-key for me to do anything but laugh.

  “And you let us think you came alone?” I quip at Oscar as he opens the passenger door and steps aside, as if he’s as stoic and unmovable as he wants us to believe. It’s all a lie though, and I wonder if he’s ever going to get tired of carrying it? As much of a dick as he can be sometimes, he’s also my brother; I worry about him.

  “You just assumed; I never confirmed or denied it.”

  Bernadette sighs, and I notice that Oscar takes another step back to make sure he isn’t in range of her touching him. I know he doesn’t like to be touched, so the fact that he lets her do it at all is impressive.

  “Hey, hey,” Hael says, grinning as we climb into the backseat. “How were those ‘dance lessons’?” He makes little quotes with his fingers and then chortles with laughter, as if he isn’t the sex addict in the car.

  “You’re just jealous I didn’t invite you to join us,” I retort, leaning between the front seats and putting an elbow on either of my knees. “But you know you’ll always be my sweet honey, won’t you, Hael Harbin?”

  “Aww, you know it,” he purrs, giving Bernie a look in the rearview. “You okay with that? If me and Cal run off together and I put him in a pretty white wedding gown.”

  “Why does it have to be white?” Bernie quips right back, and Hael snorts. Oscar scowls at us when he gets in, like he doesn’t have time to act his age. He’ll be turning eighteen in January, but he acts like he’s in his late nineties or something, on the brink of death and done with his life. I hate to see him like that. Now that Bernadette’s here, it’s time for him to adjust those expectations. He owes her to at least try.

  “Shit, you’re right,” Hael says as he turns the car around and carefully eases us to the end of the alley. I’m guessing he’s parked here to stay out of sight of Sara Young. We’ve been checking daily for any GPS tracking devices on the car, but so far, so good. Might not stay that way for long though. “Red would be best for me and Callum, in honor of my being a whore and all that.” Hael pulls us out into the street and then starts heading in the direction of the Fuller neighborhood.

  Fuller is a much easier neighborhood to steal from than Oak River Heights or Oak Park, the two ritziest neighborhoods in the city. It’s nice and middle-class and easygoing. Piece of cake.

  “Stop calling yourself a whore,” Bernie commands, looking into the rearview mirror and trying to meet Hael’s eyes. “You’re mine now; those days are over.” He chuckles at her, but he doesn’t argue. Why should he? All Hael Harbin has ever wanted is Bernadette. Same as me. Same as Vic or Aaron or even Oscar.

  We’re in endgame mode now.

  We just need to finish her list, reclaim the school, consume the city.

  Victor’s inheritance will give us the means to do exactly that.

  “Can we get bubble tea while we’re out?” I ask, feeling my stomach rumble painfully. I love food, and snacking, but when we’re at school, I try to stick with Pepsi and cigarettes for lunch for the most part. Helps with the image, you know? People look at me and Oscar and wonder why we never eat, if we’re even human at all.

  “Bubble tea? That’s the prissiest shit I’ve ever heard in my life,” Hael snorts, and Bernadette flicks him in the back of the head.

  “I happen to like bubble tea, and I’m not prissy at all, now am I?” she retorts, scooting closer to me and putting her hand on my knee. I find myself mesmerized by the way her fingers trace the scars there, intimately, lovingly. My cock stiffens in my shorts, but I just lean back and weave my arms together behind my head, not wanting her to stop what she’s doing.

  “You’re not, no,” Hael says, weaving us through quiet suburban streets rather than main thoroughfares. It’s much safer this way, harder for anyone to tail us or predict our route. “But Callum used to be. Such a pretty prima ballerina, am I right?”

  “I can still kick your ass,” I respond with a grin, which is true. We both know it is. Hael’s strengths lie in other areas: explosives, cars, seemingly endless amounts of good humor.

  “Fair point,” he says as Oscar casually rests an elbow on the door and gazes out the window like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. “So, Bernie, tell me: what sort of dress you want for this dumbass dance? Personally, I’d just like to spend the entire night snorting coke, but I’m guessing that’s not gonna happen.”

  “Not unless we manage to subdue every enemy we have in the next two weeks,” I say, watching as Bernie’s black fingernails with their coffin-shaped tips stroke up my thigh. Holy shit, I could get used to this. Our eyes meet, and I end up tugging her into my lap. Cuddling is not something I’ve had a lot of practice at, but I’m willing to learn. “Fuck, you smell nice.”

  “I could say the same to you,” she whispers back, seemingly happy for me to keep holding her. One of her hands slides up and under the bottom of my hoodie, stroking my lower abs. If she isn’t careful, I’ll probably blow another load in my pants. “Let’s get something short and fun,” she says finally, letting out a long exhale. “Something pink. That was my sister’s favorite color.”

  There’s a long moment of silence that follows her statement.

  There isn’t a man in that car who doesn’t feel like he failed Bernie by letting Penelope die.

  “I don’t think she really committed suicide,” Bernadette says as Hael finds a lucky parking spot in the downtown Fuller area. It’s bustling
with ridiculously normal looking people, people who look like mannequins to me, so perfect and free of pain. That, or they’re just really good at hiding it. The entire street is strung-up with Christmas lights and garland, too, reminding me that Christmas is less than three weeks away. It’s my grandmother’s least favorite holiday; she gets weird around Christmas.

  I wonder if that’s because she killed my mother around that time of year?

  Who the fuck knows?

  “You think Neil murdered her?” Hael asks, but now that Neil Pence is buried six feet deep, it’d be nearly impossible for anyone to know the truth. That is, unless Sara Young knows something we don’t.

  “I have no idea,” Bernadette says, drawing her hand back from me and falling into her pain all at once. I won’t let her though; a good dancer always keeps his partner from hitting the floor. My fingers grab her chin, and I put my lips to hers, kissing her slow and long and deep.

  “If you want to start digging for more information, I’ll help you. We might never know, now that Neil is gone, but we can certainly try.” I look into her eyes as I talk, forgetting for a moment that there’s anyone else around us. The expression on her face makes every horrible thing I’ve ever had to do worth it.

  “Thank you. I just might start playing detective myself,” she says, and then Hael is opening the car door and gesturing us out with a grand sweep of his arm.

  “Pick a store,” he tells her as Oscar stands idly nearby. “Any store, and let’s motherfucking rob it.”

  Bernadette smirks, looks around for a moment, and then points out a boutique down the block.

  “That one,” she says, and then she spends the next few hours showing us that her fingers are just as sticky as anyone else’s in Havoc.

  We leave that street with nearly two grand in merchandise, a beautiful pink cocktail dress, and shoes that make my cock so hard it hurts. Oscar barely says anything, but he watches Bernie. Always watching …

  Bernadette Blackbird