by Henry, Max
L: I hate to break it to you, but you aren’t the only Williams child with a penchant for physical altercations anymore.
I don’t expect an answer from Colt until first break, considering Riverbourne’s no phones in the classroom policy. But it seems my brother is just as much the delinquent as I am today.
C: What the fuck, Lace?
Perhaps we aren’t as distant as I thought.
L: Amber saw fit to take me to task this morning before the first bell. You know. Remind me how I don’t belong here in the country.
I punctuate my message with the rolling eyes emoji, flicking it off to him without a second thought.
C: You don’t belong there.
Of course, he’d side with them.
L: I thought you said you wanted me free from the politics in there?
C: I do. But I also want you living up to your potential. Arcadia is a temporary haven, sis.
Damn it all. Not this shit again. Mum has to have been into his head. This stinks of her, through and through.
L: And what would be my true potential, pray tell, brother?
He shocks the hell out of me when he replies.
C: Keeping these shits accountable for their actions.
C: You’ve always liked to take candid photos. Why not back them up with the story?
L: You think I should be a journalist?
C: I think you have the grit required to call the elite out on their dirty dealings.
I snort a little laugh, my attention flicking past the time at the top of the screen. Three minutes until next period.
L: Do I start calling you Morocco Mole now, or wait until your little hat arrives in the post?
Colt sends a line of laughing emojis, followed with, Perhaps I’ll play the part of someone more dashing in his crusades. Batman? You may refer to me as Bruce once I purchase my manor.
L: You’d be missing Alfred.
C: Or would I?
L: I have to go. Say hi to Greer for me. Let her know I have my phone charged and working again.
C: Behave, sis.
L: I always do.
***
Second period drags worse than the minutes stolen in the sun. I clock-watch while Mr Scott breaks down algebra equations, challenging us to create our own for a student quiz on Friday. The only formula I’m interested in is the one that makes the day pass a hell of a lot quicker than it currently seems to be.
If it weren’t for the tender spot on my scalp still, I would have sworn the run-in with Amber was yesterday already.
The bell tolls signalling the start of lunch break, and for a change, I’m amongst the first students out the door. I pay little mind to the looks flashed my way as I tear through the halls toward the Dean’s office. Clouds filter the sun when I streak through the main quad, the rays breaking across my face in uneven stripes, my focus zeroed in on the archway that leads into the administration building.
“Hey. What’s the rush?”
A hand catches my arm, and before I register who it is, I jerk free.
“Mate.” Maggie chuckles. “Jumpy much?”
“Damn it. I’m sorry.” I smooth free-falling strands off hair off my face. “I’m kind of on my way somewhere.”
“I can see that.” She frowns. “Is this to do with your fight with Amber this morning?” She studies my face, tilting her head to look at mine. “Are you okay? I have to say I was both stunned and proud as fuck when I heard what happened.”
“Who told you?” I twist away, uneasy with her perusal of me.
“Beau.”
Figures. “Tuck has to see the Dean now. I want to get there before he leaves to find out what she said.”
“I’ll come with.” Before I can protest, Mags starts toward the admin offices.
I’d hoped to get him alone, but really, what difference does it make? If he’s expelled, he’ll be sent straight home anyway, and I’ll be stuck here seeing out the rest of the torturous day. It’s not as though a third wheel will have much impact.
Mrs Blowers greets us as we step inside the front office. “Girls.” She gestures for the seating. “He’s just gone in.” She punctuates her statement with a wink.
I get the feeling she thinks we both lust after Tuck. An unjustified jealous streak pings through my body when I settle my gaze on Maggie.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She gives me a raised eyebrow as though to call bullshit, and then slumps into the chair. “So, now you’re living at your dad’s does that mean you can go out again? Or are you still grounded?”
I shrug, fixated to the doorway that leads through to the Dean’s office. “I don’t know. Hadn’t asked.”
“The last party of the term is this weekend. Think you could wing it?”
I let my head fall back, sighing toward the ceiling. “I don’t know.”
She picks my hesitation. “What? You don’t want to loosen up?”
I sit straight. “I don’t know if I can be bothered after today.”
She meets my questioning stare with one of her own. “Bud. The alternative sucks just as bad. What else will you do? Hide away and let those fuckers win?” She nudges my knee with hers. “You don’t need their permission to have fun, Lacey.”
“I know.” And yet, I’d rather keep my battles to the school grounds. The fight to get Colt back from Riverbourne is my main priority. I just want to … I don’t know. I guess, do the bare minimum during my time here at Arcadia? Treat it like my respite from the politics still burning white-hot in the city.
“Come out,” Maggie urges, leaning against me. “Puh-lease?” She bats her eyelashes, putting on an over-the-top cutesy face.
“I’ll talk to Dad about it, okay?” I chuckle, reaching up to bop her on the nose.
She laughs, moving back to her seat.
Yet I pay little attention when Tuck emerges at the doorway with Dean Michaels on his heels. His face gives nothing away, his blue eyes lifting to find Maggie and I waiting for him.
The Dean turns to head for the staffroom, Tuck continuing out front to where I rise to my feet.
“What’s the verdict?” Maggie asks, ever the one to get straight to the point.
He regards both of us, pulling in a deep breath while he shakes his head. “She didn’t beat around the bush about it.”
My throat goes dry. If he’s expelled because of me—
“She thanked me for trying to stop the fight for once instead of starting it.” He laughs, reaching out to sling and arm around me.
My breath escapes with a whoosh as I crash into his side. “Tuck!”
“Shit, bud.” Maggie smacks him in the shoulder. “Don’t do that to us.”
“Nope.” He grins. “She said that what Lacey told her made sense, and after hearing the gossip doing the rounds during the first half of the day, she’s got no doubt who’s at fault.” His smile fades when he zeroes in on me.
Amber and me. We’re both at fault.
“So, what happens to psycho?” Maggie asks all traces of humour gone.
I tip my head back to wait on the answer.
“Don’t know. She didn’t say, and I didn’t think I’d push my luck by asking.”
I set my lips against Tuck’s throat briefly, laying a gentle kiss against the warmth of his skin. “I’m glad it worked out.”
Maybe, just maybe, a new me and a fresh start at Arcadia won’t be so hard to achieve after all?
A girl can certainly hope.
TUCK
“Heard you got off lightly,” Johnson barks as we meet at the intersection of the halls.
“News travels fast.” I keep my focus on the pathway in front of us, head high and shoulders firm.
“Amber let it spill.” He sucks in a deep breath and then lets it out slowly, as though unsure how much he should divulge. “She’s been expelled.”
“What?” My boots skate to a stop on the stone pavers.
He remains face forward, hands slung in his po
ckets while he frowns. “Yeah. The school weren’t kidding when they said they’re cracking down on this stuff. Past incidents and all that shit; she didn’t stand a chance of getting away with this.”
“You seem pretty calm about it all.”
He shrugs, ducking his chin to draw a line through the dirt with the toe of his boot. “She’s not my problem, man.”
“She kind of is.”
He glances my way, still with his fucking brow pulled hard. “As if you’d understand.”
“Then make me,” I counter, folding my arms. “What the fuck is it about you two that I don’t get?”
Students brush past us, hurrying to the next class.
“Your dad might be a cunt at times, man,” Johnson explains, “but at least he cares.” He swallows, glancing away. “I think that should sum it up enough for you.”
“You think I have it easy compared to you?” I huff out my nose, shaking my head. “You been getting around with your fucking eyes closed the past ten years or something?”
“Your mum died. Yeah, I get it,” he blurts. “But mine fucking left. She didn’t give enough of a shit about me to stay or to take me with her.” He takes an abrupt step back, running a palm over his head. “Fuck. I’ve said enough, okay?”
“So, Amber then?” I clarify. “You think she’s the only one who gives a shit about you?” I drop a short sigh. “What kind of bullshit is that? Have the guys and I not always been there when you needed something?”
“Outside home. Sure,” he snaps. “But she’s there more than you three are. She’s …” He groans. “Even I don’t get it, mate.” Johnsons cuts his gaze across the students weaving around our impromptu face-off. “This shit ain’t for talking about here.”
“Then come over, man. After school.”
He seems to think on it, the indecision there in the twist of his downturned lips. “Nah.” He shakes his head vigorously. “Not a good idea.” His hand flicks out in the general direction of the tech buildings. “I need to get to class.”
He’s fucking lost to her. The great Johnson: taken down by a psychotic little bitch who doesn’t know how to do anything except manhandle and manipulate what she wants out of people.
I curse the goddamn day her fucking mother met Johnson’s old man.
I want my best friend back. I want the cocky son-of-a-bitch who’d run headfirst into trouble with me. The guy who’d laugh until he was breathless while we sprinted from the local cops.
I don’t regret leaving that shit behind since Mum passed, but I do miss the carefree fun we had. We didn’t think about consequences, or who’d feel what about whatever.
We just had a good time.
Fuck. It’s the problem with all of us, isn’t it? We grew up before we even realised we were set to. No prior warning, just wham, here you go, how about a dose of adulthood? Don’t want it? Too fucking bad. You’ve got responsibilities now, whether you asked for them or not.
“You’re going to be late,” Mandy teases as she approaches.
I glance around and realise I’ve been here a while considering the crowd has thinned to almost no-one.
“Says her who hustles to class,” I quip.
She smiles, racing past without slowing her stride. “Come on. If we show up together, we’re less likely to get reamed about it.”
I jog to catch up, easily matching her pace once I do. “Hey. I got a question for you.”
She flicks her gaze toward me. “Yeah?”
“What we all talked about the other day, at the stables.”
“Mmm.” She frowns a little.
“Are we doing the right thing?”
“By letting sleeping dogs lie?”
I nod.
Mandy chews her bottom lip in thought, long black lashes sweeping each time she blinks. “We’re different people to them, Tuck.” Her brow pinches. “That’s your issue with it, right? That you feel you’re letting them away with what they did by not retaliating?”
“Kind of.” Now that she puts it that way.
“I learned a few things while I dated Richard, you know.” She hugs her textbook to her chest, tipping her face a little to the sun. “Life is busy and chaotic in the city. It’s a cliché, I know, but if taking English has taught me anything, it’s that all clichés are born from something factual. They rush around doing so damn much in a day, in Riverbourne, that it’s no wonder they’re always attacking everything with little prior thought and complete aggression.” She jerks her head to one shoulder. “Us, on the other hand. We’re slower, more methodical. We think things through, figure out the consequences.” She turns her head to meet my eye. “We’re mindful of how what we do impacts those around us because the people around us are our life, Tuck.”
“You had some time to think about this, huh?” I tease.
She smiles briefly. “I did.”
I wait for her to take the classroom steps first.
“We’re good people out here, is what I’m trying to say. Don’t try to change that, because what they are in there? It isn’t anything better.”
“Be the bigger person.”
She nods, kicking her boots off with one hand braced to the wall. “Exactly.”
“I guess you have a point. “I follow suit. “It still doesn’t seem fair though.”
Mandy hesitates, hand on the door. “Of all people, Tuck, you should know the most how unfair life can be. It’s just the way it is.”
Ain’t that the fucking truth.
GREER
“Have you heard the news?” Arthur asks, sliding onto the seat beside mine.
I set my history books on the desk and shake my head. “Nothing noteworthy. No.”
He leans in to whisper for dramatic effect. “Libby’s lawyer has been to see Gayle’s parents.”
“Really?” Another thing to add to my list of filthy little facts. “Why?”
He grins. “Thinks he can persuade her parents to drop the civil case against Libby.”
“And?”
“I find out how it went this afternoon.” He lifts his eyebrows briefly, sliding back to sit straight.
I line my pens up beside the covered books, my nails clinking lightly against the varnished timber while I even their positions. “Why are you telling me this, Archie?”
He rests his chin atop his folded hands, elbows braced on the desk before him while our teacher enters the room. “Why not?”
“I’m hardly in good favour with any of you after showing my compassion towards Colt. I wasn’t sure where that left me in the Chosen.”
“Neither am I.” He shrugs dismissively. “But I know where you and I still stand.”
“Do you?”
He nods.
“Then share that with me, would you? Because I’m not one hundred per cent on the details.”
He extends his left arm, reaching out to toy with the ends of my auburn curls. “You’re a rare diamond in this world, Greer. I appreciate that.”
I’m left none the wiser as our lecturer starts her preamble into today’s lesson. I haven’t heard a single thing from Libby since the party at Christian’s. Any interaction I’ve had with Ingrid has been hostile, by my own doing. But that isn’t what bothers me. It’s the relative ease at which I’ve got away with showing care for the enemy.
There haven’t been any consequences, and I expected lots.
Boatloads.
I’m not stupid. I’m certain the Chosen know I’ve been out to Arcadia to see Lacey. Nothing stays a secret for long around here. I wasn’t exactly secretive about my day out with Beau’s brother either. Anybody on my social media will know I cavorted with a relative of the enemy.
Supposed friend on the list such as Libby.
I drift through the rest of the lesson, thankful for the forced silence brought about by a snap quiz on last week’s assigned reading. Arthur seems equally as distracted, leaning his head on one hand, hair ruffled as he taps his pen against the printed sheet.
Mrs Mowbra
y calls time, and I lean back to let out a heavy sigh.
“I hope you did better than me.” Arthur reaches across to collect my sheet, then handing both of ours to the girl on his right. The class continue the structured collection ritual, bringing the sheets to a single stack at the top right of the room.
“It doesn’t count toward anything,” I remind him. “It’s merely so she can judge how well she’s taught us this semester.”
The bell tolls and the room erupts into orderly chaos as the students break for the banquet hall. I gather my tote and prepare to find my way to the courtyard for my lunch date with Colt.
“Not eating with us again?” Arthur notes as we part ways outside the door.
I clutch my bag to my side. “It seems the appropriate time of year to work on a tan, don’t you think?”
I omit the truth to test him. Test his loyalty.
His eyes spark to say otherwise, yet he accepts my bullshit line for what it is and gives me a brief nod. “Enjoy what you can then before the rain this weekend.”
“I will.” I offer a soft smile and then turn to flee before my jittery nerves get the best of me.
I accepted that being one of the Chosen meant you were disliked by the vast majority a long time ago. Yet this new feeling, the one where it’s as though I can’t trust anyone, isn’t a sensation I can say I enjoy.
Even those who’ve been my first port of call on the weekend: my friends. Nobody is who I once perceived them to be anymore.
I turn toward the courtyard to find Colt waiting, leant against the block wall of the hallway. He cuts a confident outline against the bright space beyond, his ankles crossed, and arms folded, shoulder propping him upright. His hair is somewhat messier than he usually wears it, his tie looser. It’s as though he’s lost any motivation to pretend he’s somebody he’s not.
As though the wolf no longer finds a use for the sheep’s clothing.
“Have you eaten?” He asks as I approach.
“The first bell has barely finished, Colt. So, no. I haven’t.”
He pushes off the wall when I reach him, standing tall before me. “I thought we could eat off-grounds today.”
