Good Girls

by Henry, Max

  “I’m sorry,” I say sweetly. “It won’t happen again.”

  “I should hope not. Now get your lunch and sit.” She spins on her heel and heads back to her post at the top right corner of the room, overlooking the kids.

  There wasn’t a duty teacher in here the first week. I can only assume this is all part of Principal Rothwell’s crackdown on bad behaviour.

  I head for the display cabinets and find Colt with a deep scowl etched into his features. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It didn’t look like nothing.” He hands me a tray. “What were you talking to him about?”

  “Responsibility and ownership.”

  Colt huffs, selecting a quiche for himself. “Be careful, Lace. You know what he did to my car. I don’t want them laying a hand on you.”

  “They won’t.”

  He seems as convinced by my answer as I do—which is not at all.

  “I didn’t want to say anything, but I’ve got something up my sleeve. Just lay low for a while, okay? It’ll work out. I promise.”

  “What are you up to?” I hesitate, yoghurt in hand while I watch him for an answer.

  “Nothing you need to worry about yet.” He ignores me, picking out the rest of his meal and running it past the cashier.

  I stare at the yoghurt in my hand, pick out a muesli bar, and then ditch the tray to take my lunch outdoors.

  Lay low.

  Rich advice coming from the guy who seemed hell-bent on doing anything but since the day we moved here.

  I tug out my phone and tap a message to Greer before setting it aside to open my yoghurt.

  L: I forgot to ask yesterday, is Libby having an engagement party?

  It seems the best way to avoid her request to come out here, and also to dig around about what Colt’s been up to back at Riverbourne.

  G: Is the Pope a Catholic?

  I snort a laugh.

  L: When is it?

  G: Don’t know yet. I’ll try and make sure it’s when you can come. What day does your grounding end?

  L: I don’t know. It seems to grow by the day.

  G: Boo. That sucks. You must be bored silly out there.

  L: It’s not too bad. Typical drama for high school to keep me busy.

  G: I miss you.

  L: I miss you too.

  All of it.

  But I get the feeling as I look across the courtyard that I might miss this place too if I had to leave.

  What the hell is that all about?

  “Sorry I missed you at lunch,” Maggie says, dropping onto her stool beside me. “I had practice.”

  “Honestly,” I drawl. “It wasn’t a morning worth remembering.”

  “Must be in the water,” she whispers, leaning over as our teacher calls for quiet. “Did you hear about Tuck?” Her gaze darts past me to where Johnson sits with his head buried in whatever app he scrolls.

  “Yeah.” I don’t say any more, unwilling to dive into that thread of heartache.

  I don’t know what Tuck and I are. He talks sweet to me, and yet that’s about where it all ends. I can’t pick if he truly likes me or if I’m some fun plaything to anger his peers.

  “His dad will be going off, I bet.”

  I frown her way, whispering, “What’s he like?”

  “Girls!” We both snap our heads toward the teacher. “Focus.”

  I don’t manage to extract any more from Maggie until the end of class. “Do you really think Tuck will get grilled that bad?” I say, acting blasé as we exit the lab. “Those Mavericks jerks seem to get away with anything and everything.”

  “Old man Brallant is a real hard ass,” Maggie says with wide eyes. “He’s the kind of jerk you don’t want to piss off unless you enjoy making your life a living hell.”

  I eyeball Johnson walking ahead of us. He makes for a quick exit across to the sports grounds, but instead of going in the direction of our next class—Farm Management—he veers toward the yards. “Where do you think he’s going?”

  “Who cares?” Maggie gives me a nudge in the arm. “Catch you later.” She grins, gesturing to my head with her chin. “Who did your hair? It’s awesome.”

  I give her a shove, and she breaks into a fit of giggles, heading off toward her next lesson. I make my way toward the tech buildings, yet curiosity gets the better of this cat. Against my will to survive, I veer right and head in the same direction as Johnson.

  The rumble of boys’ voices floats across the grounds toward me when I near the stables. With my back to the far side of the building, I shrink into the inset of a closed access door and keen my hearing.

  “… long you off for?”

  “Two weeks.”

  Tuck. Johnson talks to Tuck.

  “Fucking arseholes,” Johnson spits. “I bet if it was the other way around those city jerks would have been crying like babies so that they got less.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know.” The slap of something hard hits what sounds like the back of a truck. “It was coming anyway. I’d used up all my warnings.”

  “Bullshit. Rothwell’s taking out his frustration with Michaels on you.”

  “Maybe.”

  What the hell has our dean got to do with it?

  “I’ll see you after, huh?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  I shrink into the shadow, even though I know Johnson has to walk in the opposite direction if he intends to get to class.

  “You can come out now,” Tuck shouts from the other side of the stable. “He’s gone.”

  My eyes close, and I draw a deep breath. Damn it.

  I head around to the other side and find him with his folded arms leant on the side of his truck. A horse float is hitched to the back, Major in the stall still.

  “How did you know I was there?”

  He sweeps his arm toward the sports field. “Big open area, baby. I saw you start on the other side, and unless you jumped the fence, the path you took would lead you here.”

  “Sorry. I just… I don’t trust that arsehole.”

  He hisses between his teeth. “Curse words don’t sound proper on you, Gucci.”

  I flinch at his choice of nickname.

  “Anything you want?” Tuck asks, pushing off the truck. “Or should I say, anything else you need from me?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” He jerks a bridle and blanket off the stall door and throws them in the bed of the truck with the saddle I heard him load up before. “I’m just angry and no good to be around right now. You better get to class.”

  Right on cue, the bell tolls.

  “I’m sorry you got suspended,” I offer.

  “Don’t be.” He pauses, gaze on the ground at nothing in particular. “I brought it on myself.”

  “Maybe. But if you hadn’t taken me to find Colt that day—”

  “But I did, didn’t I? Can’t change that now. Go on and get to class.” He unloops Major’s rope and then opens the stall door to lead him out.

  I back away as he prepares to load the horse in the trailer, wishing I knew what to say to not only cheer him up, but figure out if he’s merely mad at the situation, or mad at me.

  As much as I hate to admit it, the thought he’s annoyed with me hurts.

  I didn’t make him step forward to take the rap.

  I turn back. “Why did you take the heat for Johnson?”

  Tuck pauses on the ramp, Major nosing at his chest. “None of your business.” He disappears into the depths, leading the animal into position.

  I wait for him to emerge. “I just want to understand what you owe him. He doesn’t appear to do anything for you.”

  With a shake of his head, he cuts me down to size. One little shake and I feel a foot tall and as naïve as a child. “You’ve got no idea what anyone owes anyone around here. You’re not from Arcadia,” he jabs, leaning into my space. “so, stop trying to make it yours to understand.”

  I roll my lips to
gether to save from bursting into tears. He’s so cold. “Maybe I wasn’t born here. Maybe I didn’t grow up here. But you know what? Against my wishes, it was made my new home, so yeah, it is mine to understand now.”

  I get to the other side of the yards before the tears fall. I’m not upset. I’m not even sad. I’m frustrated. So damn angry and confused and there’s no other way to let it out other than to leak it from my frigging eyes.

  “Urgh!” Hands fisted at my sides, I shout my frustrations to the sky.

  But the clouds don’t care. Just like everyone else around here, they drift idly by, so stuck in their ways that it would take a thunderstorm to effect change.

  Every generational society has a legacy. A set of ideals and principles that bring them together and outline what they, as a collective people, stand for.

  In Riverbourne, it was progress and success. Each generation tasked with moving the machine forward.

  But around here? I’m pretty sure the only thing Arcadia wants is for things to stay exactly as they are.

  Isolated and ignorant.

  Life seems to fall into a lull for the rest of the week. The Moto-hoes don’t physically harass me again, but the slander is thick and fast, waiting for me around every corner. The boys leave me alone, but with the hate Johnson throws in his gaze every time we cross paths, I know that the silence means things are far from over.

  I spend most of my free time between classes with Maggie, choosing her upbeat disposition over Colt’s jaded and critical one. He hasn’t been the same since the Maverick boys lashed out and wrecked his prize possession. He has a wave of anger in him that I didn’t even witness during Dad’s trial.

  I’m not sure what to make of that; bullying from his peers frustrates him more than our family being dragged through the mud after our father was used as a scapegoat for old money’s indiscretions.

  His priorities seem a little skewed.

  “Come out to the gate after school, okay?” Colt locks the SUV and then heads into the campus.

  “Why not meet you at the car like I always do?” I jog after him, thankful it’s Friday.

  I haven’t figured out how to get to Maggie’s tomorrow yet, but I’m sure I can come up with something. Not having Tuck at school all week has left my classes quiet and my mind noisy. I haven’t heard any more from him other than a single word message: Sorry. What did his dad do about his suspension? What has he been up to?

  Why won’t he reply?

  “Dad’s managed to get the Explorer booked in over the weekend to get the back straightened out.” Colt seems unhappy about the idea, his mouth downturned at the corners. “Mum’s in the city until late, so I organised another way to get home.”

  “You could have let me know earlier, and I would have been able to get a ride with Maggie.”

  He snorts, glancing across at me. “In her shit box of a car? You’re safer with me, even with Johnson ramming into us.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  He rolls his eyes, hands tight on the strap of his new backpack. “When did you get that?” I lean back to eye the emblem. “Pricey.”

  “It was a gift.” He frowns a little. “Just head out front, okay?”

  “Yeah. Whatever.” We part ways once we reach the central courtyard, Colt veering left, me right.

  I count down the hours until lunch, clock-watching each period until the bell sounds. Maggie meets me halfway to the mess hall, her bag of rugby gear in hand.

  “Hey, I’m sorry, but I’ve got a last-minute practice.”

  “I thought you only practiced Monday and Wednesday?” Without her, I feel isolated. That said, I’m not seeking out Colt.

  He’s been odd all week, and even alone I feel better than when I’m with him. It already feels like an age ago that we were inseparable, closer than most siblings are.

  “Coach wants us to do some drills,” Maggie answers with a groan. “Said our scrums are too loose and he can’t be arsed with a lawsuit over a neck injury.”

  “Fair enough.” I shrug. “Have fun.”

  She laughs. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll see you after.”

  Something strikes me as off when I turn down the corridor toward the mess, yet I don’t place what causes the unsettling feeling until I walk into the empty room. The silence. It was the lack of chatter that left me feeling out of sorts.

  There isn’t a single person in here. Well. Nobody but the lunch lady.

  I cross the stone floor and leans both hands on the counter. “Excuse me?”

  She turns and smiles. “Yes?”

  “Lunch is open today, right?”

  She nods. “Of course. Although I don’t know where everyone is.”

  Yeah. This isn’t right. I head outside and look for Maggie, but she’s already out of sight.

  L: Where the hell is everyone?

  She replies within seconds.

  M: Get your butt over to the fields NOW.

  What now? Seriously. If Colt has himself in trouble again… Ponytail bobbing behind me, I sprint toward the sports fields. The second I reach the end of the enormous building that stands between the courtyard and the fields, the sound comes at me like a wave.

  Metal screaming. People cheering. Teacher’s shouting.

  Chaos.

  I think I found where everyone went.

  “It’s going dah-own!” A guy hollers as he thunders past me, knocking me in the shoulder. Two girls sprint after him, laughing.

  Why the hell am I the only one who didn’t know this was happening?

  Principal Rothwell bellows towards Mr Miller as I approach. “Get the damn police down here, Ken!”

  I don’t get a chance to ask what’s happening as Mr Miller jogs toward the front of the school, head down as he moves so he can dial his cell.

  The crash of steel and glass tears my head around. The crowd goes crazy. Kids jump up and down, girls on boys’ shoulders, some had managed to scale the field goals to sit on the crossbar.

  “Excuse me. Can I… can you let me through?” Hands before me, I dive in between people, digging my way to the front.

  “Lacey!”

  I turn toward Maggie’s voice, finding her standing on top of the scrum machine. “Get over here.”

  I wrestle my way through the crowd and accept her hand up, clambering to balance precariously on the firm padding. Oh, my God. Johnson’s truck is in the middle of the rugby field, tipped on one side. The roof of the Ford has caved on the passenger’s side, considerable gouges in the paintwork and dents in the body the result of the two tines anchored to the front of the idling tractor behind it.

  “What the hell?” I half laugh, half cry. “I need to let Colt know about this.”

  My hand wraps around my phone, but Maggie sets her hand on my elbow. “No need, buddy.” She points to the middle of the field again.

  Ice fills my veins, the chill spreading through my limbs until I shake from the shock of it. He wouldn’t. He is.

  “Damn it, Colt!”

  I drop off the scrum machine, smacking into some girl who stands on tiptoes to see what’s happening.

  “Lacey! Wait!”

  I think Maggie jumps down behind me—I can’t be sure. My focus is squarely on that damn tractor and the idiot behind the wheel. He barely knows how to operate it. You can tell from the jerky movements as he shunts the truck toward the crowd, digging up turf and tearing grooves in the field as he goes. The kids part like the Red Sea, Johnson’s F250 bedding in and rolling to its roof.

  “Colt!”

  It’s no use. The roar of the tractor as he lifts the front end and prepares to lower it onto the truck drown out my cries. Strong arms wrap around me from behind, hauling me out of the way.

  “You got a death wish or something?” I wrestle free to find Beau behind me.

  “I’m trying to stop him taking this too far.”

  Beau chuckles as Maggie catches up. “Honey, look at the truck. He’s already way over the line. He’s dug his own grave.” />
  “Let the teachers take care of this,” Maggie implores. “Please.”

  “I can’t just stand by,” I complain, throwing my hands I the air as I turn back to find Colt making a mess of the driver’s side with the prongs. “He’s my brother. I have to do something.”

  “Let him make his own mistakes,” Beau urges. “That’s what you need to do.”

  “Shit.” I stomp my damn foot. “Shit!”

  The best I can do is warn Mum and Dad. I jerk my phone free of my pocket and dial Dad. I can’t be arsed with Mum’s dramatics yet. He doesn’t pick up—probably driving—so I send him a message.

  You need to get down to school stat. Or maybe the police station. Explain when you call.

  The faculty try in vain to remove the students from the path of harm, ushering them off the field. But every time they seem to make headway, the mass of students vault the fence or break in another way. By the time the police arrive, lights flashing on their four-wheel drives, all the teachers can do is keep everyone at a safe distance.

  I stand by, helpless, as a cop scales the side of the tractor and physically removes Colt from the cab. My brother’s hands are secured behind his back with zip-ties, and he’s led toward the waiting vehicle.

  It’s all too familiar.

  I can’t go through this again. If we have to move… If we have to start over … If I have to sit through another court case …

  “Lacey!” Maggie calls, shaking me by the shoulder. “I said, come with me.”

  “Are we going to the station?”

  “There’s no point,” she offers softly. “The best thing you can do is go back to class and let them get through the worst of it. I’ll take you there after school if he hasn’t been sent home.”

  I glance toward Beau who now restrains an irate Johnson.

  The crowd thins, the entertainment over, and through the sea of bodies I spot the damn Moto-hoes, laughing and carrying on as though they witnessed some stunt show that was set up solely for their entertainment.

  I’m full of rage. Filled with despair. And I’m overflowing with adrenaline.

  “You goddamn bitches,” I mutter, veering off course toward them.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Maggie catches me by the back of the blazer.