Mayhem at Prescott High

by Stunich, C. M.

  “They’re going to hit us at the winter formal,” I say at lunch, before any of the boys can make the suggestion. I can feel it in the air, this strange buzzing sensation that makes my heart thunder.

  “Who?” Oscar asks, like he hasn’t spent the week avoiding me. I’m getting sick of it, to be quite frank with you. Friday morning, I thought he might actually talk to me, but then I came out of Aaron’s room with those photos in hand and Oscar went right back to making spreadsheets on his iPad.

  I saw some interesting data when I peeked over at it.

  The risk factor for my mother was listed at seventy-nine percent.

  How shitty.

  Even Kali Rose-Kennedy was listed at seventy-five percent.

  So what are we going to do to officially knock them off my list?

  “The Charter Crew,” I say as we sit at our usual table in the cafeteria. If we’re not at school, or we choose not to eat in here, the table stays empty. Once, last year, a guy named Owen Tanaka sat there without Havoc’s permission, and they broke his fingers. “They hit us on Halloween; they’re going to come for us during the winter formal.”

  I take the apple from Oscar’s tray without asking, and he doesn’t say a word about it.

  “They better not fuck up my Snow Day,” Hael says, folding his hands together behind his head as I bite into the apple, holding it in my mouth while I get a straw stabbed into my chocolate milk carton. “The snow the Oak Valley brats bring is so damn pure. If I’m only going to do coke a few times a year, I’d like to enjoy the moment.”

  I give him a look, but we both know he isn’t snorting shit; he’ll be too busy trying to stay alive.

  “I agree with Bernadette,” Oscar says, glancing over at the Ensbrook brothers and letting an absolutely horrendous smile spread across his lips. He winks at them nice and slow and both boys turn away like they’ve been kicked.

  He must’ve scared the shit out of them on Thursday; they both look ten times worse than Oscar. Seeing as the odds were two to one, I’m impressed with the man’s capabilities. As much of an asshole as he is, I can’t deny that.

  “Another coup?” Victor wonders, frowning hard. “If so, they won’t rely on Prescott kids again; they’ll bring in more hired thugs. We need to let Ophelia know that we’re onto her, throw some dirt in her face and get her to back down a little. She’s coming at us hard and fast.” Vic rubs at his face for a moment, an essay lying on the table in front of him. Despite everything, Victor has to maintain his grades, so he can stay on-track for graduation.

  I wonder if his grandmother knew he’d have to work himself to the bone to even come close to getting her money? Was that her plan all along? Or did she just not realize how awful her daughter was? Maybe she did, and that’s why she wanted Vic to live with his dad. Who knows. Seeing as the woman’s dead, she’s taken her secrets to the grave.

  I’m just wishing Neil had done the same.

  “Well, there’s one positive to her hiring out some professional help. While we can’t mow down several dozen Prescott High students without drawing attention; we can definitely get rid of some hired thugs without worrying if anyone’s looking too hard.” Cal sips his Pepsi, playing with his usual lunchtime cigarette by flipping it around between his fingers. Our eyes meet and he grins at me.

  This morning, he grabbed me while I was walking down the hall, threw me into a locker, and kissed me in front of the whole school.

  I loved it, too.

  “True,” Aaron agrees hesitantly. “But we also can’t predict what someone like that will do. They’re not involved in this feud beyond a paycheck. That could be a really good thing … or a really bad one.”

  The doors to the cafeteria open, and a hush falls over the room.

  I glance casually over my shoulder, the blood draining from my face as I notice Ms. Keating with Officer Young and Detective Constantine on either side of her. Shit, fuck, and holy hot damn. The beautiful young Vice Principal looks a hot mess, her face swollen, skin puckered with stitches. But she’s alive, and, apparently, she’s also back.

  “Ms. Keating,” I breathe, rising to my feet along with the rest of the boys. I’m happy to see they show her at least a small amount of deference. “Okay, wife. You can deal with Ms. Keating—just so long as she is dealt with.” Victor is going to leave Breonna Keating to me, which I appreciate, but how the hell am I going to handle this?

  I'm starting to realize my moral code is just a tad stricter than the boys'.

  “Bernadette,” Ms. Keating says, pausing just a few feet from me. She often calls me Ms. Blackbird, but apparently surviving an attempted murder together has brought us a new level of closeness. I shift slightly, crossing my arms over my chest to hide my nervousness. Officer Young is watching me like a motherfucking hawk, searching for anything she could possibly use against me. “I'm so glad to see you're okay.”

  “Just fine,” I tell her, forcing a sideways smile. “But shouldn't I be the one saying that to you? Welcome back, by the way.”

  “I'm not back in any official capacity, not yet,” she says, her jaw so swollen that her words are a bit slurred when she talks. I'm happy to see that crafty bitch got her nails done recently though. See what I mean? There's still hope for her yet. “But I wanted to check in on things. Primarily, I wanted to check in on you.”

  “If possible, I'd love to move this conversation to your office,” Constantine suggests, his brown eyes scanning the room before coming back to land on the Havoc Boys. It's pretty obvious that he knows he's a sheep among wolves in here. We might be in high school, but it wouldn't be all that difficult to turn this room into a riot and end it with his bloody corpse hanging from the flagpole outside.

  “Of course,” Ms. Keating agrees, giving the Havoc Boys a cursory nod. “Mr. Channing, congratulations on your marriage to Bernadette.” Vic flashes her a white-toothed grin.

  “Thanks, VP,” he purrs, in just such a way that Sara Young shudders. Not from pleasure, I don't think, but horror. The way she looks at my husband, I can tell she doesn't much enjoy his company. I wonder if she can sense that the only thing standing between her and an early grave is little old me?

  “Mr. Park, Mr. Harbin,” Ms. Keating greets Callum and Hael before pausing for a moment to study Oscar's fucked-up face. “Mr. Montauk, Mr. Fadler.”

  “Hey,” Aaron says, with a small wave and a forced smile. Oscar chooses not to acknowledge her whatsoever. “Call us if you need us,” Aaron adds as I leave with the vice principal and the two police officers. Vaughn meets up with us in the hallway, but he's about as useless as a wet dishrag. Glad he's working for us now, but it's like throwing a sponge against a sword.

  “I hear your stepfather is missing,” Ms. Keating says carefully as we walk down the hall together.

  “I hear the same thing,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. “But good riddance, am I right?”

  Ms. Keating glances over at me, one of her brown eyes slightly obscured by the swelling in her face. Her gaze is sympathetic, almost companionable.

  “After I passed out, I hear he manhandled you and threatened you with his gun?” she asks, choosing her words carefully. I nod and slide my hands into the pockets of my acid-wash jeans. “At the cemetery, where your sister was buried, right?”

  I almost have a visible reaction to that news but manage to keep it together. I did not mention the cemetery to Sara Young at all, but she's been going up there to search for clues anyway. Does she know something I don't?

  “Yeah, well,” I say, looking away from Ms. Keating and over to the row of lockers on my right. As we pass by, I start to notice clown faces drawn in Sharpie here and there. Most of them are crossed out with a scrawled HAVOC but there a few new ones here and there. “It's painful for me to talk about, seeing as Neil raped Penelope. He took me to her grave to make a point.”

  Ms. Keating's entire body stiffens up as she unlocks the door to her office and gestures for us all to walk in. If she has any qualms about being in
here after the attack, she doesn't show them. Doesn't even glance at the spot where she collapsed with her face a bloodied mess. God, I love this woman. She's wearing a t-shirt under her yellow suit jacket today that says Fight Fascism! with a striped fist that goes from white to brown to black.

  She takes a seat at her desk while Principal Vaughn stands beside her. The two uniformed police officers that are always trailing along after Constantine wait outside the door, while the detective himself sits down in the seat beside me. Sara decides to take up a position on my right. I feel surrounded in here, but at least I know one thing for sure: I have an ally in the VP and a pet in Vaughn.

  “So, you know about the cemetery, huh?” I ask, turning to Sara and thanking Ms. Keating with every breath. Dropping that information on me in the hall has given me a chance to rearrange my story and mark up a plan in my brain.

  “Why did you lie to me Bernadette?” Sara asks, trying her best to be sympathetic. But she's got her thumbs in her belt loops, her gun at her waist, and a cap that says Police on her head. Intimidation is part of her tactic today, I see.

  “Did you see what happened to Kali?” I ask, pointing at my mouth and shivering. “Word got around the school that she snitched and, well …” I trail off as Sara frowns. She clearly has heard about Kali. I'm sure she also knows that she can't possibly pin that on us. Too many witnesses saw Stacy herself put that needle and thread through Kali's lips. Of course, none of them will say anything on record about it. “I'm not about to tell you shit if I don't have to. I am starting to wonder if I need a lawyer though?”

  “Why would you need a lawyer, honey?” Sara asks, her tone patronizing as fuck. I grit my teeth and give her a sharp sideways glare.

  “Because you're trying to pin Neil's disappearance on me when we all know that fucker took off of his own accord.” I sigh and rub at my temple, wondering if I'm really going to have to do this. If I'm going to have to use Penelope's video to protect myself and the boys. When I first saw it, I was furious at them for using her pain as a weapon. But now that I'm here, sitting in a hot seat and seeing my freedom and the freedom of my boys on the line … what choice do I really have?

  Isn't it better if Sara sees for herself what a monster her partner was?

  “Why not just tell us he took you to the cemetery, Bernadette?” Sara pushes, looking up as if to confirm something with Constantine over my shoulder. “At some point, the video footage in his cruiser was disabled remotely, but before that, we have this.” Sara slides her phone out of her pocket and passes it over to me. There's a video queued up and ready to go; I press play without hesitation.

  There's Neil, climbing out of the cruiser and readying his pistol. Oh, and there's little pink-and-blond me with handcuffs on running for my motherfucking life. I sprint past the camera and disappear into the cemetery as Neil lifts up his weapon and takes a shot.

  He stalks past the camera and disappears. The video ends shortly after, but I bet there's more. More nothing, because we never went by the cruiser again until the boys showed up and Oscar disabled the camera.

  I put the phone down and close my eyes.

  Reliving that moment is making me feel sick to my stomach. Sure, I handled it like a boss, but that doesn't mean I want to go back and experience running through a graveyard while being chased by a mad cop ever again. No fucking way. Seeing his face brings back other memories, too. It makes me miss Pen yet again, makes me wish I'd fought harder to protect her. It's all fine and dandy that Havoc is a weapon for me to wield now, but if I only could've unsheathed that blade in time to save my sister.

  I open my eyes and hand Sara back the phone.

  “What do you want me to say? I told you that Neil roughed me up and held his gun on me. Now you have video proof. What more is there?”

  “How did his car get from the cemetery to the city, Bernadette?” Sara pushes, her voice eager, like she thinks she's really got me this time. “We can see that Neil was the aggressor in this situation, but if your lovers did something to him, we need to know about that, too.”

  “Her lovers?” Constantine echoes, and I just snicker with perverse joy at the disgusted tone in his voice. Don't you love how men can openly fantasize about fucking a bunch of girls, or having a threesome, or enjoying a harem of their own? The second that shit gets reversed, it's all disgust and she's a ho, she's a slut, she's loose. What a bunch of crap.

  “Can I show you something?” I ask, glancing over at Ms. Keating. She's looking at me like she feels sorry for me. I wonder if she remembers what it was like to be my age, to be wrapped up in gang life? I doubt the gang she ran with is anything like the Havoc Boys. Nobody is like the Havoc Boys. “It's a video I found on Neil's laptop once. He told me he'd kill me if I ever showed anyone, but he also told me he'd kill me if I tried to report him again, so I guess I'm dead either way.”

  “This is highly inappropriate,” Ms. Keating says, wincing and reaching up a hand to gingerly touch the side of her face. “Bernadette, you do not need to answer anymore questions. If these officers would like to speak with you further, I recommend they do it when your lawyer is present.”

  “No, it's okay, Ms. Keating,” I say, looking up at her with a genuine sense of gratitude in my face. Victor was afraid she might be a liability, but he's wrong. She is the one truly real and kind human being I have ever met in my life. And here I was, thinking the entire world was a wash. Well fuck me sideways. Apparently there really is a small slice of kindness in all of this cold cruelness. “I want to do this. Penelope deserves to have her story told.” I pull my phone out of the pocket on my pink leather jacket, shooting Oscar a quick text.

  Send me the video, please.

  He doesn't argue with me, and within thirty seconds, I have what I asked for. It just sits there in our text conversation like a poisonous thorn, pumping venom into the bloodstream of my soul. I feel dizzy looking at it, and I know for a fact that I cannot sit here while they watch it. I just can't.

  “Ms. Keating,” I say, looking up and giving the very last piece of my heart that isn't reserved for the Havoc Boys to my teacher. This is my last hurrah, as far as trusting other people. If she betrays me, I imagine I'll be just like Oscar or Vic. My morality bar will lower to its most subterranean level, and I'll be left with only a few iron-clad principles: don't hurt kids, don't hurt animals, don't rape people. That'll be it. Right now, I also have a few pesky add-ons such as if someone hasn't harmed you, don't harm them.

  I pray to the universe that this isn't a mistake.

  Guess only time will tell.

  “Yes, Bernadette?” she asks as I stand up and hold my phone to my chest. There's nothing incriminating on it; the boys would never be so stupid as to text about murder and mayhem on a fucking cell phone. But also, I don't want the police looking through it either.

  “I'm going to forward a video I have on my phone to Sara Young, and then I'm going to leave for the day because I can't handle it. Is that alright?”

  “Of course,” she says, nodding at me and turning to Principal Vaughn. “We can let Bernadette's teachers know she'll be out for the rest of the afternoon?” I love the way she asks that question, like it even really matters. We cut class all the time. But I smile anyway and flick my attention over to Sara Young.

  “Next time you accuse my boys and me of hurting Neil, I'm going to lawyer up and drag you through the mud. Do you understand? You want to be a good guy, Sara? Start fighting for the right side.” I hit send and then leave the office as fast as my legs can carry me, dialing up Aaron on my phone as I go. I'm too breathless to talk, so I just let it ring and wait on the front steps for the boys to join me.

  It only takes them a few seconds to get out there.

  “Are you alright?” Aaron asks me, just as breathless as I am. He pulls me into his arms and hugs me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder.

  “The police have Neil's video,” I say, glancing back to find Oscar watching me with stone-cold gray eyes. “And I h
ave a plan for Sara Young. She wants to be a justice warrior for good? Fine. Let's start leaving her crumbs that she can follow. I know for a fact that Neil's brother and dad have gotten him out of a good dozen sticky situations by pulling strings. That, and I'd bet my life that his buddy at the morgue has seen things that would've landed Neil with the death penalty in court.”

  “This is a dangerous route, Bernadette,” Victor warns me, moving a few steps down, so he can turn and look me in the face. “If you do this, there's no going back. There could be a trial; you might have to testify. Is this really what you want?”

  “We can and will take care of Sara Young on our own,” Oscar says, keeping his distance from me. “As you've seen, there are ways to make people disappear for good.”

  “No.” I close my eyes and relax back into Aaron's strong embrace. “This is what I want. If Sara Young isn't a bad person; if she truly believes in justice. Well, here's her chance to prove that to me.”

  “This is a different game than we've played before,” Cal remarks, pushing his hood back, so I can see his blond hair. He turns to look at me and lets a genuine smile take over his pretty mouth. “I like it. Let's give it a shot.”

  “And hey, we still have plenty of other people that need disappearing,” Hael says with a sharp laugh. “Speaking of, why don't you tell Bernie the plan you just came up with for Wednesday night?”

  I glance back at Vic and he grins, reaching up to brush his thumb across my lower lip.

  “Oh yes. I think you'll be pleased, my queen. Let's get the fuck out of here and gear up. We have work to do.”

  Oscar has a drawing on his iPad that connects each player in this game to one another. I see David Benedict’s name on there with a question mark, his bubble stuck between me and Kali. The Thing is floating off to one side, also attached to me and Kali.

  “If your stepfather was involved somehow in the Vincents' scheme, all of this would make sense,” Oscar tells me, using the stylus to trace the line between Neil and Coraleigh. “Digging into DHS' records for this time period, I see nothing about you and Penelope and Heather being sent to the Kushners.”