Good Girls

by Henry, Max

  Oh, hell no. “You expect me to lie for you after that?” I stare across at him incredulously.

  “I expect us to continue to look out for each other,” he snaps.

  “Like you did just now?” My voice has reached a ridiculously high pitch. “I can’t believe the gall of you.”

  “You want me to keep taking you to school?” Colt stares me down, eyes off the road for a disturbingly long time. “Then you back me up on this.”

  “I won’t lie,” I reinforce. “But perhaps I can omit the details.”

  He smiles. “Good girl.”

  Yeah, because that’s all I’ve ever been—a good girl.

  Good girl, Lacey Williams.

  Always does what she’s told and what’s expected of her.

  Well, not anymore.

  “Colt Mathias Williams! You get your arse out here this second!”

  Dad’s home.

  “Did you see this?” he asks Mum, still with his lunch bag in hand as he stands in the archway joining the living and dining room.

  She offers him an indifferent glance. “Uh-huh.”

  “And?” Dad demands. “What did you say to him?”

  Colt appears behind Dad, wisely staying out of arm’s reach. I pull my knees higher and pretend I still read my book.

  “How about you ask our son what happened before you come down on him with an iron fist,” Mum snaps, suddenly coming to life.

  Dad spins, now aware Colt is behind him. “Explain yourself.”

  My brother shrugs. “It was an accident.”

  Dad pauses to take a deep breath. “I have a forty thousand dollar vehicle that now sits on the driveway, looking as though it did eight rounds of dodgem. What kind of accident does that and doesn’t leave a scratch on you?” He glances over at me. “Was Lacey in the car with you?”

  I shrink lower. Colt doesn’t answer.

  “For fuck’s sake, Colt,” Dad hollers. “Are you trying to get you both killed?”

  “James,” Mum snaps. “If you’d bothered to give him time to explain, you’d know that our poor children were targeted by jealous students today.” Her voice wavers with turmoil, yet I know she’s more concerned for her golden boy than me.

  “Is that true?” Dad glances between the two of us.

  I look to Colt. He stares off at the wall, jaw hard. “Yes.”

  “Why did nobody tell me?”

  “You hardly gave them a chance,” Mum scolds.

  If you ask me, Colt had plenty of opportunities to speak up, but as usual, he’s happy for Mum to fight on his behalf. Ugh.

  “I have a phone, in case you forgot,” Dad scathes, lifting his cooler bag. “You could have rung me when you found out.”

  “And what would you have done?” Mum resumes her disinterested appearance, reaching for her nightly wine. She grimaces at the taste of the cheap bottle. “I’m meeting with the school about it tomorrow.” No. “This can’t continue.”

  “I think it was a one-off,” I state. No way do I want Mum at the damn Principal’s office. How the heck could that improve things?

  ”And now she speaks,” Colt mumbles.

  I poke my tongue out at him and then look to Dad. “Honestly. We’re fine. Can we just let it lie?”

  “Lacey,” he says softly. “I don’t know the details, but that car out there tells me this was a bit more than a little hair-pulling. If they do this, what else will they do?”

  Exactly. “And what better reason would they have to show us than Mum going to the school about it?” I frown. “It didn’t happen on the school grounds, anyway.”

  Dad’s gaze narrows before he looks to Mum. “She has a point.” Thank Christ for that. “The school can’t do much if it wasn’t on their grounds.”

  “Their students did this,” Mum argues.

  “They’re not students when they’re outside the gates,” Colt adds, seemingly on board with this.

  “So we talk to their parents,” she says with a lift of her brows.

  “No!” Colt and I shout in unison.

  “Let us take care of it,” he soothes. “I’ll let you know if it continues, Mum.” He crosses the room as he speaks, kneeling beside her.

  “You’re such a good boy.” Her hand finds the back of his, eyes wet with unshed tears as she gazes on him.

  Barf. Dad storms away to ditch his work gear, apparently as over this as I am. I rise, taking my book with me, and leg it down the hallway to my shoebox room.

  My door closes with a thud thanks to the swiftness of my heel. I toss myself stomach-first on the bed, set the book aside, and retrieve my phone.

  L: Tell me something juicy. 2day was shit.

  Greer’s dots dance immediately. Just seeing those bouncing circles brings relief like I didn’t know I needed. It’s as though she’s here with me; I feel that connected to my friend.

  G: Arthur punched Richard yesterday. :P

  No way.

  L: Why? OMG. Tell me EVERYTHING.

  G: He thinks Libby and R have been doing it behind his back.

  L: Really?!? Why? What do you think?

  She sends a GIF of a woman rolling her eyes.

  G: Honestly, I don’t know. She won’t talk about it.

  L: Guilt? I type out before deciding to delete it. It’s not that I don’t trust Greer, but things change and, well, if today’s drama with Colt is anything to go by, perhaps I don’t know people as well as I’d hoped? I hope she’s okay.

  G: Me too.

  See? Safest answer.

  G: What about you? Are you telling those country bumpkins what to do yet?

  I roll to my back and stare up at the cracked plaster ceiling as a heated discussion between Mum and Dad escalates. Colt’s engine starts outside, his tyres kicking up gravel shortly after as he peels out the driveway.

  Things here are complicated, to say the least, but until I can feel confident about the direction they’re heading, there’s no reason in telling Greer that.

  L: LOL. Almost. Another week and I think I’ll have this school figured out.

  Whether that will be good or bad for me remains to be seen.

  Colt barely has time to take the car out of gear before I throw my door open and drop out of the SUV, headphones on. I didn’t bother to ask where he went the other night, or the three following. He’s out of the house every afternoon until late, not that my parents seem to care, or in the very least want to do a thing about it. Dad’s always in bed before nine since he has early starts, and Mum spends the evening watching a movie on TV until late, or head down on her phone conversing with her friends in the city.

  All that matters to me is that Colt’s vehicle sits ready in the driveway each morning when I need it.

  A bright red notice on the school gate draws my attention as I approach, sliding my headphones down to my neck.

  All-Level Assembly.

  I continue through the grounds, noting the same flyer pinned up at key places on campus. By the time I reach my locker, I’ve managed to read everything I need to know in bites as I passed by each one. We have an assembly in the main hall first thing, attendance compulsory.

  Fingers-crossed this is some standard warm up before we head into the thick of the school term. I’m sure schools like Arcadia pep their students regularly to ensure grades remain high.

  My gut says otherwise when I arrive at the large timber entrance doors, the din from inside deafening in the high-ceiling cathedral style hall. What has to be the entire faculty sit in a row on the raised stage, a grim-faced Principal Rothwell at the helm.

  With my first-period textbook gripped tight to my chest, I move down the rows until I find a space midway along one to the left, between two groups of students I don’t recognise. They, however, clearly know who I am.

  “City bitch.”

  “Drama queen.”

  I ignore the slander and sit in the middle of the gap, attention squarely on the stage ahead. The Mavericks file in, Johnson casually at the helm as they walk to
the front of the hall where a row remains vacant. Amber skips along, spinning around as she walks every so often to talk with the raven-haired athletic girl behind her. She stares impassively at the little blonde pixie, Tuck close behind.

  My chest constricts after seeing him saunter so casually up the aisle. He’s an impressive sight, his school shirt taut across the back of his shoulders, ass snug in a pair of well-fitted jeans. Flames lick beneath my skin. Yes. Very well fitted jeans.

  Tuck nudges his shoulder into the guy next to him—Beau, I think his name is—and then glances over the heads of the students already seated. His eyes find mine, his smile wide before he then pulls a silly face.

  Against better judgement, I duck my chin and let out a soft giggle. I haven’t seen him all week except for in class. I honestly didn’t know where we stood after the meeting in Principal Rothwell’s office.

  “Something funny?”

  My shoulders stiffen. I turn to address the girl who spoke on my right, relief washing over me when Maggie drops onto the seat. “Thank God it was only you.”

  “You know,” she teases, “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  “Where have you been all week?” I whisper while Mr Rothwell calls for quiet.

  She leans over, face forward. “Inter-school rugby tournament up north. Heard I missed a few things.”

  “Did you ever.”

  “Students!” Mr Rothwell booms into the mic pegged to his lectern. “By the time my hand drops, I expect silence, or you will all be here after the final bell to practice.” He lifts his left hand high and slowly drops it to his side.

  You could hear a pin drop. I take it from everyone’s immediate obedience he’s followed through on his threat before. More than once, no doubt.

  “Monday morning, as I’m sure the vast majority of you are aware, we had a rather disturbing incident outside our front gates.” He leans both hands on the lectern, his shoulders broad and casting an imposing figure as he leans over us. “Thankfully, members of our faculty took it upon themselves to rectify the situation despite the incident taking place on public property. Rest assured that I do not want this to need to ever happen again.” The entire room radiates tension as he stamps his authority. “Bullying, in any form, for any reason, will never be tolerated at Arcadia. We are better than this,” he says, emphasising his words with a slam of his fist on the lectern. “You belong to a school that prides itself on unity and loyalty. No great war was ever won by an army that fought against itself, and while I don’t presume us to ever be in such a situation, I expect you to be a force to be reckoned with equally the same.” He pauses to shake his head like a disappointed parent, and to my dismay, I find myself upset that I indeed let him down. “I don’t care who you are, what your parents do, how much influence your family name brings, we are all equals at Arcadia, and you will behave as such, or the consequences for insubordination will be severe. Am I understood?”

  The entire room erupts with a perfectly timed, “Yes, Mr Rothwell.” I find myself whispering along, while to my right, Maggie rolls her eyes.

  “Good. Should you find yourself on the receiving end of such behaviour, you are to report to your teacher or the nearest member of faculty. Equally, I expect this directive to be followed. Otherwise, you do no more than encourage such vile behaviour within our wider community.” He hesitates, sweeping a hard stare across the room like a damn laser beam. “Dismissed.”

  The scuff of boots and corresponding chatter while people bolt from the room pains my ears after such obedient silence.

  “What did I miss?” Maggie asks with one eyebrow raised.

  “Nothing important.” I stand. “See you at lunch?”

  “Sure.” She leans back on the bench seat, watching me with her head tilted as I exit out the far end of the row.

  I’m not quick enough, and the crowd of people queued to get through the hall doors slows me so that I end up ready to leave with half the Mavericks. Head high, I assume my best resting bitch face and focus forward. They’re not going to win that easily.

  “I’m surprised your brother’s truck is still driveable,” Amber leers.

  Her cherry scent washes over me, making me gag. The smell is sickly sweet like a child’s make-up set. “As if you care.”

  The taller girl eyes me curiously, allowing Amber to continue while we shuffle out the doors.

  “What else does he think will happen when he shows his face around here?”

  I glare at the bitch. Her black eyeliner is smudged already, yet with her wild platinum blonde hair, she pulls the crazy look off, much like Arcadia’s own Harley Quinn.

  “Hmm.” Her finger taps her lips. “I hope he can remember where he parked it at the end of the day.”

  They wouldn’t dare, I tell myself. Not after what Principal Rothwell said. Surely? “Seriously,” I bluff. “What do I care about my brother’s car? You want a reaction, then go find him.”

  Speaking of which… I haven’t seen him in here. He must have snuck in and out before me.

  The crowd surges forward as the gridlock clears, something brushing against my arse. I snap my head right to find Tuck playing oblivious. Of course, he would…

  “The lot of you are fucking pathetic. You know that?” I shake my head at them, hypocrisy burning a shameful path up my oesophagus. After all, didn’t I come here intending to do the same to them?

  “Not as pathetic as some bitch who thinks trading in her Gucci kicks for a pair of Ariat boots will magically transform her into a country princess,” the brunette from my first day leers. Dee, I’ve been told her name is. “This ain’t Cinderella, honey. You’re wasting your time playing peasant around here. There’s no prince about to ride in and save you.”

  “I guess not,” I say evenly despite my shaking hands. “Otherwise that would make you two the ugly step-sisters, am I right?”

  A stifled snort to my right reassures me. I hit them good.

  Amber and Dee cut left after we squeeze out the doors, slinging insults back at me as they blend into the thinning crowd.

  The raven-haired girl who’s stayed quiet until now stalls me with a hand to my shoulder. Johnson and Beau carry on as though this kind of bitchiness is everyday behaviour, Tuck a few steps behind.

  “Look,” the girl says. “I get you’re new here, but sometimes the best way to blend in is to do nothing at all. Stay quiet, keep your head down, and let things be as they are, okay?”

  “Let you lot target me for nothing more than growing up in the city?” I ask.

  She smiles, a quiet and shorter girl I’ve seen with Amber on occasion waiting behind her. “That’s not why we don’t like you,” she says. “If you want to understand what it is about your name that pisses us off, ask your brother.”

  She turns away before I can say anything more, looping her arm around the shorter girl. It’s only when she slides her free hand under her wavy locks and flicks them out that I realise who she is: Mandy Showman. The girl I saw on her motorbike in town. She’s just dyed her hair black since I saw her last, and damn does it look good on her.

  My eyes close, the din of the students dying off rapidly as everyone finds their way to the first period. I take a deep breath, and then open them to head off as well and let out a startled yelp.

  “Hey, buddy.”

  My face falls. “For God’s sake.”

  “Would you rather I kept calling you baby?” Tuck falls into step with me.

  “What do you want?”

  “Checking on your welfare.” He grins.

  And damn it all if it doesn’t pull a smile from me too… which is quickly succeeded by tears. I just… I can’t do this. I’m not my mother. I can’t come in here and uproot an existing hierarchy for my benefit.

  Especially when it doesn’t benefit me.

  “Hey.” Tuck frowns. “I know they’re bitchy, but fuck, Lacey, they’re only girls. They’re not going to eat you alive or anything.”

  “It
feels like they do,” I laugh through my tears.

  I must look a right mess.

  “You have to admit that you kind of bring this shit on yourselves. I mean, your brother didn’t do you guys any favours when he decided to take Johnson’s parking space.”

  “Because there was a damn sign telling us it was taken,” I sass back.

  “Maybe not,” he says with a shrug and lift of his eyebrows. “But come on, Lace. Your attitude? You guys ain’t spoiled rich kids anymore; you need to adapt.”

  “Adapt,” I snort. “Is that what you call this?”

  “You’re not used to how it feels, huh?” His arm slides around my shoulders, and he produces a handkerchief from his pocket.

  I accept it with genuine gratitude. “Used to how what feels?”

  “Being one of the bottom-feeders,” he says with a grin. “I’ve heard about your bullshit bunch of toffs,” he drops as though he didn’t just insult me. “The Chosen?” He scoffs. “Come on. What are you? Fucking gods?”

  “Isn’t that what you like to think you are?” I sling back with a wiggle of my head. “Mavericks.”

  He wrinkles his nose. “Nah. I like to think the name reflects that the rules don’t apply to me, and to be honest I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks either. Makes me hard to cut down when I’m not affected, you know?” He glances left and right when we reach the courtyard. “Where are we going?”

  I tug from his side. “I’m going to Economics.”

  “Cool.” He yanks me back again and steers us in the direction of my class.

  “Won’t you be late?” I say in a vain attempt to get rid of him.

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said?” He smirks, brow dipping. “The rules don’t apply to me.” He brings us a stop in the middle of the courtyard, beside the reflection pool. “Which is why I’ll also continue to harass you despite what Rothwell said.” His fingertips caress my cheek, his gaze trained on the contact. “Especially because you like it so much.” The jerk steps back, flicking my peaked nipple in the process.

  “You arse!” I cry as he jogs backward, chuckling.

  He turns, still laughing as he strides in the opposite direction, hand tossed up as though to say goodbye.