Start a Fire: A Dark High School Bully Romance (The Savage Crew Book 1)

by Julia Wolf

  Start a Fire

  The Savage Crew

  J. Wolf

  Copyright © 2021 by J. Wolf

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Proofreading: My Brother’s Editor

  Editor: Word Nerd Editing—Monica Black

  Model: Nick Perillo

  Cover Design: Amy Queau

  The the readers who are just a little bit twisted.

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  1.Chapter One

  2.Chapter Two

  3.Chapter Three

  4.Chapter Four

  5.Chapter Five

  6.Chapter Six

  7.Chapter Seven

  8.Chapter Eight

  9.Chapter Nine

  10.Chapter Ten

  11.Chapter Eleven

  12.Chapter Twelve

  13.Chapter Thirteen

  14.Chapter Fourteen

  15.Chapter Fifteen

  16.Chapter Sixteen

  17.Chapter Seventeen

  18.Chapter Eighteen

  19.Chapter Nineteen

  20.Chapter Twenty

  21.Chapter Twenty-one

  22.Chapter Twenty-two

  23.Chapter Twenty-three

  24.Chapter Twenty-four

  25.Chapter Twenty-five

  26.Chapter Twenty-six

  27.Chapter Twenty-seven

  28.Chapter Twenty-eight

  29.Chapter Twenty-nine

  30.Chapter Thirty

  31.Chapter Thirty-one

  32.Chapter Thirty-two

  33.Chapter Thirty-three

  34.Chapter Thirty-four

  35.Chapter Thirty-five

  36.Chapter Thirty-six

  37.Chapter Thirty-seven

  38.Epilogue

  39.Through the Ashes

  40.Stay In Touch

  41.Playlist

  42.Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by J. Wolf

  Author’s Note

  If you are in search of a Julia Wolf rock star romance, this isn’t it. Start a Fire is a dark, high school bully romance. It deals with themes like dubious consent, bullying, drug use, mentions of suicide, and sexual assault. If any of those topics are upsetting to you, please treat yourself kindly and give this book a pass.

  If you’re still here, buckle up your seatbelt and prepare for the bumpy, unpredictable ride that is Sebastian Vega.

  Chapter One

  I had this plan. I’d worked it all out in my head. I’d waltz in wearing my European clothes, my hair edgy, with my I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude, and it would all be different. I’d take AP art and English. During lunch, I’d skip the cafeteria and soak up the sun on the grass outside. If I made friends—great. If not, I didn’t need anyone anymore.

  What I wouldn’t do was hop back on the hamster wheel that was being popular. The never-ending race for something entirely unattainable. I wouldn’t get caught up in the need for approval from my pretty peers, and I damn sure wouldn’t be trying out for cheerleading.

  Not this year.

  I had just turned eighteen, and I was over it all. Too bad being over it all didn’t look great on college applications.

  Some effort would be required, but I’d stopped living by the Savage River High School unofficial rulebook two years ago when I left this town. Now that I was back, I had no plans of letting it control my life again.

  “You look ridiculous.”

  I whipped around, finding my mom standing in the doorway to the bathroom, smirking at me.

  “Thanks, Mother Dearest. Haven’t you ever heard about the fragile teenage self-image? Is that not a thing they teach you when the stork delivers your new baby?”

  She leaned against the doorjamb, laughing. “Damn, no one told me a stork was an option. I pushed you out of my…” She circled her hand around her crotch.

  I arched a brow. “Ah, so that’s how you missed out on parenting lessons.”

  “Must be. I know I’ve failed you terribly, daughter of mine. Never giving you any attention or affection, locking you in your room without dinner. How ever have you survived?”

  I snorted so hard, I sounded like a pig. My mom laughed with me and pulled me into a tight hug.

  “Love you, babe. You look adorable,” she said as she rocked me back and forth.

  My mom was a tiny little pixie, and I had to stoop to hug her. People were often shocked she was the mother and I was the daughter since I was dark to her light, tall to her short, bold features to her elfin prettiness.

  When she let go, I brushed my hands over my gauzy, gunmetal-gray sundress. “You think this is good?”

  “Completely. But if your plan is to blend, good luck. You’re going to knock some socks off.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You have to say that because you’re my mom. All socks will remain intact in my presence.”

  She rolled her eyes back at me. “Whatever you say. Are you ready to go, or do you need another hour to primp?”

  I took one last look at myself, smoothing my wavy, asymmetrical hair. This was as good as I got.

  “I’m ready.”

  Both of our backpacks were by the front door. Mom had gone classic black JanSport, while mine was deep burgundy Italian leather. I’d picked it up for a song at a market in Rome a year ago, and it had worn to buttery soft perfection.

  “Wait!” I cried.

  Mom turned with her backpack slung over her shoulder, her eyebrow raised in question. “What?”

  “Isn’t it tradition to take first day of school pictures?” I took out my phone, pulling up the camera.

  “Uh…kid, I think you’ve got our roles reversed.” She waved her hand around. “Mother here.”

  “Shhh. Pose for the camera.”

  She finally struck a pose, holding her backpack straps with her thumbs. She’d turned forty a few months ago, but seriously didn’t look a day over twenty-five. Starting back in middle school, my guy friends had crushes on her. I hadn’t really blamed them, but when whispers of “MILF” started happening, I’d nipped that right in the bud. My mom was pretty as hell, but no thanks, I did not want to hear about my friends wanting to—

  I shuddered. I couldn’t even complete the thought.

  When I put my phone away, she opened the door, ushering me out to the vast parking lot in front of our high-rise apartment building. We were living on the edge, occupying a ground floor apartment, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. We’d needed to find a place to live quickly, and the first floor was all that had been available. Our windows faced the well-lit parking lot, so at least there wouldn’t be pervs lurking in our nonexistent bushes, trying to sneak a peek.

  On the drive to school, my mom chewed her bottom lip and kept a death grip on the steering wheel.

  “Nervous?” I asked.

  She glanced at me out the corner of her eye. “Aren’t I supposed to be asking you that?”

  “You can ask me, but I can also ask you. You’re clearly mega nervous.”

  She glanced at me again. “And how are you so cool and collected?”

  I wasn’t really. My stomach was a bundle of nerves and trepidation, but I was glad to know it didn’t show.

  “I have a plan. It’s foolproof. Nothing will bring me down.”

  “Well, I have no plan. I haven’t b
een to school since I was your age. Chances are, I’ll make a complete fool of myself in front of all the cool, college-age kids. What if there are group projects? No one’s going to want the grandma in their group.”

  Laughing, I rubbed her arm. “If you go in acting like a neurotic grandma, then no, no one is going to choose you. I also highly doubt there’s going to be a group project on the first day.”

  She pulled up to the drop-off lane at my school and turned to face me, tears in her eyes. “We’re going to be okay, kid.”

  I had to bite my cheek to keep my own tears at bay. “We are. We’re going to rock this.”

  She reached for me, giving me the best hug she could in the confined space. “Love you, Grace. Have an amazing last first day of high school.”

  “Love you too, Mom. Have an amazing first day of college. Sometimes cults recruit naive freshmen on campuses, so watch out for that.”

  She snorted, pushing me away. “Get outta here, smartass.”

  I watched her drive away, leaving me on the bustling sidewalk in front of Savage River High School. I hadn’t been here since my freshman year, and while I’d changed down to my very core, this place looked the same.

  At fourteen, the tall, imposing building had intimidated me. Back then, I’d played it cool around my friends, never admitting to my insecurities. That wasn’t done in my crowd. Admitting a weakness would get you trampled.

  Looking up at the three stories of brick over four thousand teenagers showed up to every day, I felt a twinge of the same intimidation. But only a twinge.

  Since I had no intention of falling back in with my old crowd, I could walk through these crowded halls and remain anonymous. It would be pretty easy with a senior class of nearly a thousand.

  The warning bell rang, signaling five minutes until class started. This was it. A fresh start in an old place.

  I took a deep breath, and then another, before stepping into the crowd, allowing myself to be taken along with the mass of bodies.

  And so it begins.

  Chapter Two

  “There’s been a mistake.” I held my schedule out to my guidance counselor, who looked put upon by my very presence. “I’ve got business math on my schedule. That’s not...I didn’t sign up for that.”

  With pursed lips, Mrs. Davis tapped away on her keyboard, not answering me or giving any indication she’d heard me.

  I’d flown straight to her office from homeroom, clutching my schedule in a tight fist. I should have been in sociology, but instead, I was sitting in her dingy, closet-sized office.

  “There hasn’t been a mistake, Ms. Patel. You don’t have enough math credits to graduate on time, so you were assigned to business math.”

  I sat forward on the edge of my seat. “But I took precalculus at my last school. Why would I be placed in this math class?”

  She finally looked up at me, peering over her half-frame glasses. “Yes, and you barely skated by with a D. I put you in a class far less challenging. Math isn’t everyone’s subject.”

  Clutching the edge of her desk, I prepared to plead. There was no way I’d survive business math. “There were extenuating circumstances. My grades are normally much better.”

  She steepled her hands beneath her chin, giving me a pitying look. “And I’m very sorry for your loss, Grace. But don’t you think you’d rather have an easier class to get you through the year? The rest of your course load is packed. Take the math class. Get the easy A.”

  “I…I don’t think I’ll fit in in that class.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Why not?”

  I tried to put it diplomatically. “Because...isn’t that class for kids who have no plans of going to college?”

  This time, her look was less pitying and more annoyed. “I’m not going to continue this discussion. You’ll take your assigned courses and hopefully improve your GPA enough to attend the college of your choice. Believe me, you’ll be thanking me when you skate through this class. And frankly, young lady, you might learn some humility being in a class with kids whose biggest worries aren’t which color paint they should get on the BMW their parents are buying them.”

  I recoiled at her last statement. It stung on multiple levels. “That’s not one of my worries,” I said under my breath.

  “Yes, well…” She straightened a stack of papers on her desk. “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, there is. My locker assignment. It’s downstairs, in the north wing. Is there any way I can get a locker upstairs?”

  “No, I’m sorry. You’re lucky you got a locker at all. This year, we’re one-hundred-twenty-five percent full. I’d say bring a bigger backpack if you don’t want to make the trek.” She looked at her computer screen. “Since you’ll be attending business math there, it shouldn’t be too inconvenient.”

  Defeated, I left her office and went to my first class. I was able to slip in the back unnoticed and stew in my frustration for the entire period. I chewed on my pencil as I half listened to the teacher go over the syllabus for the year.

  Everyone knew what business math was. They’d fancied up the name, but there wouldn’t be anything fancy about the course. It was for kids who were only going to graduate on a wing and a prayer. They taught how to write checks and pay bills. That was what I’d heard in the halls anyway. I’d never known anyone who’d taken the class.

  The bell rang, and everyone scrambled to pack up and funnel out the door. I took my time, already dreading my second period.

  “Grace?”

  Shit. I looked up at the girl who’d stopped by my desk, relieved she wasn’t part of my old crew. I remembered her—Rebecca Lim, but everyone called her Bex. We’d been in art together freshman year and had bonded over our shared love of anime and Tim Burton films.

  I smiled. “Hey, Bex.”

  Grabbing my bag, I stood and slung it over my shoulder. I towered over her, but not as much as I used to. She’d grown a couple inches over the last few years.

  “You’re back?” Her thick, black bangs hit the dark frames of her glasses. She had an emo vibe going that really worked for her. I would have killed for her jeans with zippers zigzagging randomly on the legs.

  “I am,” I confirmed. “We just moved back last week.”

  She walked with me into the hallway. The sound of thousands of students changing classes at the same time was nearly deafening. I had to lean down to hear her.

  “What class do you have next?” she asked.

  I gestured vaguely over my shoulder. “I have to go that way. Catch you at lunch?”

  She nodded with enthusiasm. “Yeah. We need to catch up. I feel like I’m seeing a ghost!”

  I poked my arm. “Not a ghost. I’m super real.”

  She poked my arm in the same spot. “Yep. Real. I better jet. I’ve got to get to the third floor.” She paused for a second. “It’s good seeing you, Grace.”

  “You too.” I was surprised to find I meant it. I hadn’t thought I’d missed anyone from this school, but it turned out, I had. We’d had completely different social circles and I couldn’t remember really speaking to her outside of art, but I was done with all that. Bex Lim intrigued me, and she was the first friendly face I’d seen today, so hell yes, I’d be having lunch with her.

  I made it through Spanish class without seeing anyone I knew, then made my way downstairs and wound through the maze that was the bottom floor. Before I went to math, I stopped by my locker in the same hallway and dropped off a couple books.

  My stomach was a bundle of nerves when I entered my class. Why I was nervous here when I hadn’t been in Spanish, I couldn’t really say. I hadn’t known the kids in either class, though some faces last period had been familiar. Maybe it was because I didn’t know what to expect.

  No one really paid attention to me when I walked in. I found a seat in the back and surveyed the class. A couple pretty girls with red lips sat on a few guys’ desks near the front of the room, checking out the sketchy looking tattoos on their arms. Musi
c blasted from the headphones of the boy in front of me. A few kids played on their phones, while the girl diagonal from me carved the word “fuck” into her desk with the pointy end of a compass. The teacher sat at his desk, flipping through a textbook.

  A guy slid into the empty seat next to me. I was attempting to blend—no, be invisible—so I didn’t turn my head to check him out.

  “Hey.”

  Apparently, he had other plans. Still, I maintained my position, refusing to look. My eyes were on the teacher, his expression becoming more panicked with each page of the textbook he turned. I sort of thought he was teaching himself the course right then and there.

  “What are you doin’ in this class, rich girl? You get lost?”

  My eyes shifted to the side. In my periphery, I made out a broad smile and wild, curly hair. Deciding he wasn’t going away and sounded more friend than foe, despite calling me “rich girl,” I finally looked at him.

  He was cute. Hot, really. His thick, curly hair stood out, carefree and proud, around his face and shoulders. He wore a pro soccer jersey, and from what I could see sitting down, he had the lean, muscular body of a soccer player. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him before, and I was fairly certain I would have remembered a smile like his...along with his…everything else.

  “Ah, she can hear me.” He grinned and stuck his hand out. “I don’t know you, but I feel like I should. I’m Gabe.”