Rich Riot

by Henry, Max

  “I saw her Monday afternoon when she collected her stuff.” I shrug, scouring the halls behind her. “Figured I’d let you two catch up without me.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Her feet slide together, long legs stiff as she drags her bag in front of her. “Is everything okay?”

  No. I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right today. My gut screams to abort, yet my pride pushes me forward into the halls. “For now.”

  Greer’s lips twitch into a brief smile before her chin falls and she stares at the floor between us. I reach out and lift her head, brow firm while I study her fine features.

  “You’ve got something to say,” I note. “So say it.”

  Her gaze shifts to the left, chin still rested atop my fingertip. “It’s nothing.” She stares stoically at a group of two girls and a boy who seemingly gossip about our interaction.

  I let her go.

  She has every right to feel awkward, being seen cavorting with the enemy.

  “Has Libby said something to you?” I duck my head to catch Greer’s eye.

  She shakes her head, supple chest heaving as she takes in a deep breath. “No. What about?”

  “You siding with me in the courtyard on Monday.” I wouldn’t put it past the bitch to set her twisted friends onto Greer over an innocent thing such as showing compassion.

  “I haven’t heard anything,” Greer replies. “But we all know that can be just as bad.”

  “Walk with me.” I jerk my chin toward the far end of the hall.

  She falls into stride beside me; her bag balanced on her hipbone as she walks. Her hips sway, that fucking ghost of a skirt grazing the tops of her tanned thighs.

  “Lacey seemed happy,” Greer states. “After everything that happened over the weekend.”

  I’ve always appreciated my sister’s best friend. She’s a burst of light air amongst what’s otherwise a rather congesting atmosphere. A pretty girl, she seemed content to let Libby hold the limelight. But the past months our little butterfly has begun to emerge.

  And my what a fascinating display of colour she is.

  “She runs on adrenaline still,” I point out. “As long as my sister has tasks and events to occupy her time, then she’ll roll with the punches. But as soon as her transition to life in Arcadia ends, the new routine might give her a shock.”

  Greer frowns. “You don’t appear to have much confidence in her.”

  “I have confidence in her.” I tentatively touch the split on my lip with the tip of my tongue. “I just don’t believe she’s fully honest with herself.” I turn my head to regard Greer as we walk. “She may have wanted change, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy.”

  Her lips flatten as she thinks. “I don’t agree. I think she’ll come into her own out there.” Soft eyes find my own. “I think you may be confusing her feelings about it all with yours.”

  “You think I’m wary of the changes around here?”

  She stops walking, turning to face me. “I think you’re frustrated by their lack of speed.” I mirror her stance. “I get the impression you hunger for the destination, but you’d rather not walk the path to get there.”

  This girl is sharper than I give her credit for. “Very astute of you, Greer.”

  “I have a thing for reading people,” she states with a confident tilt of her chin. “And I think you do too.”

  “A beneficial pairing.”

  “Or one that could never foster trust,” she counters. “Enjoy first period, Colt. I’ll see you at break.”

  Her wisp of a skirt taunts me as she leaves, caressing her legs in ways I’d rather be. I sling both hands in my slack pockets, smiling a little while Greer continues toward her first class.

  All this time, I believed undermining Libby would be the key to bringing down the crystal castle the girls have made for themselves. How wrong I was.

  You can’t win a war by instilling trepidation into an already mistrustful leader.

  You have to instil conviction into those who are prepared to do what it takes to defeat them.

  If I want to destroy the petty hierarchy in these halls, the key to the kingdom lies with Greer.

  Sweet little mysterious, Greer.

  LACEY

  I dust the house key off and slide it in the barrel lock, turning it to the right and then testing the door afterwards to make sure I have indeed locked the place. I’m under no illusion that my clumsiness this morning is a direct side-effect of my nerves.

  What other reason would I have for this jitter that continues to pulse throughout my body?

  Christ, Lacey. I can tolerate Libby. Hell, I could even stand up to her. But the thought of returning to Arcadia alone has my heart sprinting with an injection of unwanted adrenaline.

  I have every right to be there, just as much as they do. I repeat the mantra over and over while my boots crunch over the gravel of the roadside verge. Now that I’m living with Dad, I’m every ounce as much the country kid as they are.

  Keep telling yourself that.

  Any ties to our past privileged life were severed. As far as Nonna and Poppa are concerned, I probably don’t exist if my mother isn’t interested anymore. Dad and I have been exiled from the family, cut off and pushed back out to where they would rather Dad have stayed anyway—amongst the working class. There’s no legitimate reason why the Arcadia kids should feel I hold myself in higher esteem than them.

  I don’t. I don’t think I ever really did. I just knew we were different. But different doesn’t have to be a bad thing. What sets us apart is also what keeps us curious.

  How bland life would be if we were all identical in every way.

  Face tipped to the sky, I read and re-read the street sign to ensure I’m in the right spot. No other school kids litter the side of the road, but according to the single-sided notice issued with my newly created bus pass, this is where it picks me up.

  Dad left for work two hours ago, sneaking in to kiss me on the forehead and wish me luck. I was barely awake when he did, the memory as foggy as a dream.

  Even my body didn’t want to go to school, dragging me back into a sleep that was only broken by the chime of Colt’s good luck text this morning.

  Three minutes before schedule. I slide my smartwatch under the cuff of my blazer and cross my arms over myself. The cherry blossoms have sprung forth on the trees across the road, an incredible array of pinks and white. I stare at them, outlining the contrast of the blooms against the bright blue morning sky until a hum from my right draws my attention.

  It’s too high-pitched to be the bus, which is why I see a motorbike cruising toward me instead. My throat goes dry, my pulse climbing. I don’t know how Amber’s bike looks. I have no idea which Moto-Hoe it is.

  Ignore them, and they’ll ignore you. I pointedly look left, waiting for the bike to pass, yet my worst fears are realised when the damn thing slows down.

  Shit.

  I should have told Tuck to meet me here. It’s not on his way to school, but I’m sure he would have given Major the extra miles if I had asked. I could have avoided these confrontations until I reached the school grounds, at best.

  “Hey.” I barely make out the muffled word over the throb of the engine and the restriction of the rider’s helmet. Light brown hair peeks from beneath the skid-lid. Thank heavens for that.

  “Hi.”

  Cate removes her helmet, twisting as she does to look behind her before returning her focus to me. “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for the bus.” Surely she’s seen it stop here before.

  Her gaze drops, eyes darting around as though she tries to crack an impossible riddle. “I should be able to do it.” She makes the statement more to herself than me.

  “Do what?”

  “You’ll see.” She flips the helmet back on her head, calling out as she tightens the chin strap. “Stay there. And whatever you do, don’t get on the bus.”

  “Why not?” What the hell is wrong with the bus?
>
  She idles up the road a couple of metres before flicking the back tyre around and tearing off up the street, engine screaming. No sooner has Cate vanished from view, than the bus pulls around the far corner. Damn it.

  What do I do? If I miss the bus and this is a prank I’m screwed. It would take me a good forty-five minutes to walk to Arcadia High, and I need to be there before that.

  Shit, shit, shit. Make up your mind, Lacey. What will you do? Trust the girl who’s never done anything personally to give you reason not to, or err on the side of caution and get on the bus?

  The driver’s outline is clear; the enormous cream-coloured vehicle nears my corner. I figure my gut’s never put me wrong before and take a step back. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed me, but if the guy’s worth a grain of salt as a driver, he would have known to expect a new addition to his schedule.

  A low block fence borders the front of the house behind me. I drop on to its moss-covered surface as the bus begins to slow and wave the driver on. He resumes his previous speed, blasting past my pick-up point with a backdraft that sends my hair whirling around my face. I bat it away, sneaking a look at the rear window to find a couple of faces turned my way. They probably think I’ve decided to wag for the day. They may even recognise who I am.

  “Lacey!” I turn at Cate’s forceful tone. “I’ve been calling your name.” She flickers a frown, smiling a little.

  “Sorry.” Damn. “I didn’t hear you over the bus.”

  She waits astride the idling bike, pulled up on the grass verge a little to my right.

  “Here.” Cate presents me with a second-hand helmet, her arms outstretched as she balances, the very tips of her toes on the road. “It’s my brother’s old one, but I think you’ll fit it.”

  “You want me to ride with you?” I take the offered safety.

  She smiles broadly. “It’s a gazillion times safer than stepping on the bus.”

  There’s something enduring about Cate. She’s genuine in her innocence. An all-round nice girl, which makes me wonder how the hell she ended up mixed in the Moto-Hoes, to begin with.

  I glance down at the red and black helmet in my hands, flicking the two halves of the strap out of the way with my thumbs. I’ve never worn one before.

  “Do you want me to help you adjust it?”

  I peer up at the girl, wondering why she feels the need to rescue me from public transport. “What’s so bad about the bus?”

  A snort rushes from her. “If you have to ask me that, then it shows how naïve you are. Here.” She gestures for me to step closer to her idling bike. “Pop it on your head—brushing your hair out of your face first—and then tip your chin up.”

  I do as instructed, a little intimidated by how restricted my senses are while muffled inside the helmet. Leaning fully on her left foot, Cate tips the bike toward me so that she can reach beneath my chin. Her small hands make quick work of the strap, adjusting the buckles to shorten it and testing how tight it is with two fingers between the canvas strip and my skin.

  “Perfect,” she says a little louder. “Now hop on.”

  I widen my eyes, hoping she’ll understand how foreign this is for me.

  She smiles, head tipping to one side while she brushes off how ridiculous I must appear. “Just like riding Major,” she explains. “Except hold your legs out from the side, so you don’t singe your jeans on the exhaust.”

  “Awesome,” I sass. Loving the sound of this already—not.

  She holds the bike steady while I launch myself over the narrow seat, a little alarmed at how easily it slides me snug in behind Cate. I’m not a prude—exactly as I said to Tuck—but damn, I’ve never been this intimate with a girl.

  No wonder boys with bikes love to offer rides to girls.

  “Holding on?”

  I nod, and then mentally slap myself. “Yeah.” My fingers find purchase under the edges of the vinyl seat where it meets the plastic body of the bike.

  It feels as though I cling to a cliff-face by my nails when she takes off up the road.

  The bike vibrates beneath us, giving a small jerk every time she flicks up a gear with her right foot. I settle into the ride, studying the way her hands move, and she naturally leans her body with the machine around the corners. Cate’s utterly at home doing this, and a part of me is a little jealous.

  I wish I could do something as cool as this.

  As free.

  As reckless.

  She takes us down the road parallel to the school cul-de-sac, slowing as we reach the back road into the grounds. I’d been so fascinated with my first ride, daydreaming of a future where I can be somebody a little more daring, that I completely forgot about Tuck.

  “Cate.” I tap her on the shoulder.

  She turns her head to the side.

  “I told Tuck I’d meet him out front.”

  The bike comes to a sudden stop as we crest the intersection with the cobblestone path that links to the front gates. “No problem.” Foot to the ground, she waits for me to dismount.

  I slide off, surprised how jelly my legs are despite having done nothing but balance my arse on a narrow seat. I attempt to undo the chinstrap, admitting defeat when Cate reaches forward to do it for me.

  “You’ll get used to it,” she assures me. “Hang on to the helmet. Put it in your locker. I don’t have room for both of them in mine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nods once. “You’ll need a ride home too, won’t you?”

  I suppose I will. Cate taps the bike into gear and idles away, free hand tossed up to give me a finger wave before I can ask why she’s doing this for me.

  What on earth did I just experience?

  More so, what on earth do I owe them now?

  TUCK

  Major’s flanks rise with his intake of breath before he lets out a disgruntled sigh.

  “I know, buddy.”

  He pointedly looks toward the laneway as though asking me why the hell we aren’t doing the same thing we do every damn time we get to school.

  “She’ll be here soon.” Unless she chickened out and stayed home.

  But that doesn’t seem Lacey’s style.

  I glance up the dead-end road again, jostling as Major changes which leg takes his weight. Johnson arrived a minute ago, parking in his usual spot. He cast a look my way, but that was all he was allowed before Amber stole his focus.

  For a guy who seemed dead-set on reminding me that we’ve been friends for longer than we’ve known our girls, he doesn’t make much effort to carry on that friendship.

  I tip my hat a little lower to hide my eyes and continue watching the crowd at his truck. Amber sits atop her throne—the hood—and throws shade at any poor plebe that passes by. Johnson leans on the bull bar to talk with Ed.

  I can’t decide what pissed me off more: Ed returning to Johnson the day after we discussed our plans for Riverbourne, or that Beau appeared from the back seat as well this morning.

  A conversation for later.

  “Hey. Sorry I kept you waiting.” Lacey stands breathless on Major’s far side, shielding her eyes with one hand as she stares up at me.

  All my worry dissolves into curiosity when I spot the helmet in her hand. “What’s that?”

  She glances down, lifting it slightly as though forgetting she had it. “Oh. Cate gave me a ride.”

  Did she now? “Cool.”

  “Are you okay?” Lacey’s gaze drifts to where my focus had been. “Oh.”

  “Ignore them.” I turn Major toward the laneway. “How was the trip to school, then, huh?” I grin down at her as she walks beside us. “Have you been on a bike before?”

  She shakes her head with a chuckle. “No.” I note the hesitation while she checks over her shoulder at the group in the parking lot. “It was fun, though.”

  “Yeah?” Gives me ideas on things to do when I bring her home.

  “Why are they glaring at you like that?” She returns her focus to me, her golden hair drift
ing behind her as we move. “Are you and Johnson talking?”

  “Not yet.” I stare straight ahead. “He’ll come around, though.” I hope.

  “If I’m causing trouble between you two—”

  “You’re not.” I bring Major to a halt, frustrated by the distance between Lacey and me.

  She watches while I slide from the saddle, bringing the horse’s reins over his head so I can walk beside her. Lace loops her fingers through mine, as naturally as she did back at her house.

  “I feel so responsible.” She mutters the words to the ground, brow pinched. “Before I came along, you were all such good friends. And now I’ve divided you all.”

  “It wasn’t as perfect as you thought,” I tell her. “The girls were already drifting apart, and us guys are still fine if you take Johnson out of the mix.”

  “He’s loyal to Amber, huh?”

  “Under her fucking spell, more like,” I mutter.

  Lacey squeezes my hand. “Hey.” I find her sharp blue eyes studying me. “It won’t last.” She huffs. “It’s not as though they can marry when they’re step-siblings. Either he or she will move on, and he’ll come back to what he appreciates: you.”

  “You make it sound so simple,” I muse.

  “And you think us girls are dramatic,” she teases. “He’s still your friend, Tuck. He’s just … busy.”

  I snort a laugh. “Busy?”

  “What would you rather I said?” Her eyes light up.

  I love this about her. Her concern for me over herself, the way she’s found happiness when inside she probably shakes with dread for the day ahead.

  “Whatever Amber tries with you, I’m here. Okay?” I tug her closer, slipping my arm over her shoulders. “You come and find me if you need to.”

  “I would ask if that’s so you can ride in on your horse and save me,” she teases, glancing at Major. “But he’s not white.”

  “Stereotypes,” I muse.

  Major snorts in agreement.

  Lacey dissolves into peals of laughter, the sound music to my ears. All I wanted was for her to find a home here. To be happy.