Done Deal (Arcadia High Anarchists Book 5)

by Max Henry

  Beneath it all, what we need is right here. Right now.

  Friendship. Belonging. And still with the room to evolve as our independent selves.

  Nobody has the answers, but damn it all if we can’t try to help one another figure out the problems. Together.

  ***

  “Damn, I feel sorry for Beau.” Tuck watches the taillights of Maggie’s mum’s car ahead of us as we turn down the road Dee lives on. “Must be awkward as fuck sitting up the front with her while the girls all giggle in the back.”

  There was no way we’d all fit in one vehicle. So, Maggie volunteered her, Greer, Ingrid, Willow, and Beau to squeeze in with Charlotte. Barrett, Colt, and Christian came with Tuck and me.

  Christian spat tacks at not taking his car until Tuck pointed out it would most likely end up covered in dirt and possibly manure if the stock had been on the paddock recently. He zipped his lip and climbed in the Hilux, probably understanding why a truck would be better anyway when we reach the roadside gate.

  As promised, machinery blocks the driveway, entrance to the property by way of farm gate into the adjacent paddock. A middle-aged man—who I’m told is Ed’s dad—leans on the post as we approach, pushing off without haste to make his way over to the cars.

  He leans down to talk with Maggie’s mum and then opens the gate for us. Tuck winds down his window to pop an arm out, giving the guy a wave as we pass through.

  “Seems okay so far,” Tuck muses, head ducked to stare out the windshield at the lights on the horizon.

  The houselights glow bright, huge floodlamps illuminating the yard. To the right, a bonfire burns in the paddock surrounded by a fair number of people, the odd car parked with headlights on around smaller groups.

  He’s right, though. Everything seems civil so far. But the darkness makes the people in front of us no more than shadows and elongated shapes moving through the night. I can’t tell who they are, let alone if they’re local or not.

  “I feel overdressed,” Christian drawls as he takes in his surroundings.

  “Nobody will give a shit,” Tuck states, puling the Hilux up behind a car that’s quite literally covered in random bumper stickers. “We’ll head over to the house first, I reckon.”

  Sure enough, Maggie waits with the other two while her mum makes her way across the yard to the Archerson residence.

  “Gus said that there are a few from Riverbourne so far, but none that seem like trouble.”

  Tuck lifts his chin to acknowledge Maggie, breezing by presumably in search of his dad. Beau follows, maybe to find his as well, or perhaps to check the animals like he was supposed to do. I don’t know.

  Either way, Maggie stays behind.

  “Mum said your dad’s inside,” she tells Colt and me.

  “We’ll wait out here,” Colt says, gesturing to the Riverbourne crew.

  “You guys can,” Ingrid states. “But, I want a chair and somewhere warm.” She turns her head to address me. “I’ll come in with you, Lace.”

  “Yeah, okay.” I glance after Tuck to find the shadows have already enveloped him. “Do you want to find Mandy, Mags, and see how she’s getting on with Amber?”

  Maggie snorts. “Fuck. No.” She jerks her head to the Riverbourne crew. “Come on, guys. Let’s go find something to drink and show you how we have fun out here.”

  The mob head for the paddock and the bonfire, the majority seemingly curious while Christian hangs back as though apprehensive.

  It must feel odd for him to be the centre of attention no longer. Strangely, I feel sorry for him.

  “Mind if I hang with you guys?” Willow waits behind, hands in pockets while she rocks on her heels.

  We were the best of friends, once. Inseparable. I can’t pinpoint what it was that drove us apart, other than my changing schools.

  It makes me wonder if I have any legitimate reason to keep my distance now.

  “Sure.” I reach out and hook my arm through hers, taking her and me by surprise. “Let’s go find my dad and then Amber, and I’ll introduce you to a girl who makes Libby look like a damn kitten.”

  Ingrid snorts. “Not possible.”

  “Don’t knock it until you’ve experienced it,” I tease.

  “Jesus,” Willow groans. “I’m not cut out for this.”

  I grin, stepping inside the beautifully restored home. “I used to think that too.”

  Now I know better.

  There’s no place I’d rather be.

  TUCK

  Beau’s old man sits on the back of his truck, parked alongside the house where he can survey the entire yard area. He turns his head to spot me as I approach, lifting a hand in greeting.

  “Your old man is keeping watch at the bonfire.” He gestures to the paddock past the machinery shed. “My boy with you?”

  I nod and open my mouth to answer but get cut short.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Didn’t realise the fucker had followed me.

  “Keeping out of trouble?” Beau’s old man stares him down, one hand blindly reaching for the Thermos at his side.

  “Always.” Beau glances toward the crowd mixing up their music in the field. “You get hold of Caleb?”

  “Your brother’s here?” He never mentioned involving him.

  Beau shakes his head. “Nah. It’s about something else.” He shuts down, going dark quicker than a torch on its last battery.

  I get the same tension from his old man. “He phoned.” That’s all Gareth Maun can say. He phoned.

  Beau narrows his gaze at the party. “Good.”

  Sensing the need to break this up, I clap my hands and then lift them out before me. “Right. Well, I’m going to track down Dad.”

  “Talk later.” Beau is the first to leave our awkward circle, striding towards the flickering orange light.

  I give his dad one last look, but the guy already has his head down while he pours himself a hot brew. Something goes down in their house, and I’ll be sure to get to the bottom of it with my so-called best friend. Can’t believe he didn’t mention anything. Have I had my head that far stuck up my arse that Dad is right? I need to check my mates?

  “You good?” I ask, jogging to catch up to Beau.

  “Yeah.” He clears his throat, hands buried in pockets while he charges ahead over the darkened ground.

  We slip past the sheds, through the open Hurricane gate, and smack into a group of giggling girls. I don’t recognise any of them.

  Maybe these are the Riverbourne few Ed’s old man talked of?

  “Oh, hey there handsome,” a tall brunette greets, wobbling on her legs like a newborn deer. “Any more where you came from?”

  She turns to her posse for a reaction and gets it when I steamroll right past in search of my dad: the group giggle, a few mocking her for being blown off so easily.

  I don’t have time to satisfy pissed princesses. My need to be in control of the situation, to know and understand every possible threat, itches for information.

  “There.” Beau shunts me in the arm, gesturing past a parked car to where Dad stands near the flames. Buckets of dirt sit at the ready should the fire get out of control, but what has me impressed is that on his other side stands Mick—Johnson’s dad.

  Beau and I approach, and beer is thrust into my hand by a guy I recognise from my Animal Husbandry class.

  “You look like you need it, Brallant.” He disappears into the crowd, tugged along by a girl that plays the backline on Maggie’s team.

  Twisting the top off the chilled bottle, I stand adjacent to Dad and wait for a break in the conversation. It doesn’t take long; Mick stops mid-sentence and nods toward me, drawing Dad’s attention my way.

  “I thought you were to stay at James’s house?” Eyes hard, he quickly scans the space around me to likely evaluate who I’ve brought along on my jaunt.

  “Charlotte decided we should be here.”

  He growls. “Goddamn, hippy witch.” It’s said with a lilt of amusement, however.r />
  Charlotte was always the odd one out, from what I’ve heard my dad recall. Independent and uncaring of what the other kids thought of her growing up. She’s a staple in this town, the same as my family—the same as most names here tonight.

  We might not have the same material wealth of the people in Riverbourne, but out here, we’re rich in pride—of family and community.

  “Where are the others, then?” Kurt gestures toward the house with his chin.

  “Maggie is with Lacey at the house. We also brought a few of her old friends.”

  Mick steps forward, the glow from the flames licking across his hardened features. “Such as?”

  “Only the ones who care to effect change,” I explain honestly.

  “Johnson here?” Beau asks carefully, probably as aware as I am that he might get the guy in the shit if his dad doesn’t know he’s not with us.

  “Yeah.” Mick nods across the fire. “Last I saw he went that way with Ed.”

  “Not too many showed up so far.” Dad gestures to the crowd with the drink in his hand.

  I remember mine and take a quick swig. “Probably because one of Lacey’s city buddies managed to talk most of them out of it.” I can’t remember who this Arthur guy is, or if I even met him at Christian’s that night, but if I saw him now, I’d shake his hand.

  While we were all bitching and summarising what could happen, he took it upon himself to ensure something did happen.

  “Finally, one of you shitheads did something worthwhile,” Dad teases with a sly grin. “Why don’t you kick back with your girl, then, if you’re here now?” He flashes a wink Mick’s way. “Can’t get up to too much trouble with your old man around, right?”

  My gut knots. If only Dad knew what we’d already done today.

  “You sure everything is under control?”

  Dad nods. “We’re fine, boy.” He doesn’t say any more, but it’s there in the soft set of his eyes.

  You’ve done enough. As though silently undoing the shackles, he sets me free to enjoy myself and do what I should have all along—be young.

  Time flies by, one milestone to the next. We’ll all blink, and next thing we know, the school year will be over, and I’ll have to make more of an effort to catch up with my friends.

  Now is the time when I should cement those connections and make sure the people who were there for me through all the shit before and after Mum’s passing don’t get forgotten.

  “What do you think, Maun?” I tease Beau. “Feel like giving some girls a stir up?”

  He ducks his head to hide the grin. “Why the fuck not?”

  Snatching a beer from Dad’s cooler, I pass it over to Beau and start the trek back to the house.

  “Tuck!”

  I turn and lift my chin to Dad.

  “Don’t want to see you home before midnight, kid.”

  Throwing him a lazy salute, I take a step back and turn. “Yes, Sir!”

  LACEY

  Two steps down the hall, and it’s clear where Amber is.

  “What the fuck do you mean nobody is coming anymore?”

  Ingrid and Willow hang back, apprehensive as we approach the dining room and adjacent galley-style kitchen.

  “Somebody talked half of them out of it. Maybe it was Libby since she’s not here?” Dee. As always, she tries to placate Amber with reason.

  “It wasn’t Libby,” I say, announcing my presence.

  Amber spins so hard on her dining chair that the legs scream across the hardwood floor. “What do you know about it?” She’s fashioned her hair back on the side with the tattoo, showcasing the ink for anyone who can decipher the script.

  My gaze drifts past her at the large timber table and out the French doors to where Maggie’s mum and my dad stand lit up by the patio lights. They discuss something important, given the frown on my father’s face, but the body language is light.

  “Libby was intent on coming tonight,” Ingrid says, stepping into the room with her slight limp. “But we changed her mind.”

  To be honest, Ingrid had little to do with it, but for the sake of this argument, I’ll let it slide.

  “And you would be?” Amber snaps.

  “Somebody you don’t want to piss off.” Ingrid crosses the room, past Dee and Amber, to drop into a vacant armchair near the windows.

  “Um, yeah,” Dee quips. “Make yourself at home.”

  “Thanks.” Ingrid’s eyes close, head rested back on the seat. “I will.”

  “You’ll be attending Portside, huh?” Willow takes a turn with Amber; arms folded where she assesses the girl from her spot at the door. “I’m not sure what they’ll make of that lovely artwork on your face, there.”

  “It’s not on my face, you douche. It’s clearly on the side of my head.”

  “It could be on your arse for all I care,” Willow snaps. “Giving you a heads up that tattoos are strictly forbidden at my school.”

  Amber’s lips purse as she regards Willow with a shrewd stare. “Let me guess. You’re the reason there isn’t a single girl from Portside here.”

  Popping off her finger pistol, Willow winks. “Correct.”

  “Fuck me.” Amber’s heated stare slides across to me. “You have them all stitched in your back pocket, huh?”

  “See, that’s where we’re different.” I smile. “I don’t need to bully people into doing things when they merely do what’s right. They make that choice themselves.”

  “Such a fucking saint,” she bitches.

  “Hardly.” Ingrid sighs as though the whole conversation bores her. “You haven’t seen half of the Lacey I know, yet.”

  “Not even close,” Willow confirms.

  I don’t know what the hell these two are up to, but it works. Amber seems sceptical, but all I need is that seed of doubt to inch my way inside.

  “What was the point to this tonight?” I ask, checking Dad’s position in my periphery. “I’m here now, so let’s hash this out girl to girl.”

  “I don’t do lesbian porn.” Her salacious grin has my hand itching to cross her face.

  “You know, people are generally confrontational and rude when they’re insecure,” Ingrid shares, eyes still closed. “Tell Aunty Ingy,” she coos. “What’s on your mind?”

  Dee’s eyes couldn’t be any wider if she tried. Seemingly, she waits for the Amber timebomb to explode with all our poking and prodding.

  Let her crack, I say. Maybe then we’ll finally get an ounce of truth out of her?

  “What is it you want out of me?” Amber snaps, brow furrowed.

  She burrows herself deeper into the Fox hoodie draped over her petite frame. I track my gaze down her arms, noting how she keeps her hands tucked inside the sleeves. One foot rests on the crossbar of her seat, her knee lifted to protect her from our line of questioning.

  No matter how tough she wants to appear, there’s a more profound and more painful reason for her behaviour.

  And that’s why I won’t give in until she lets the cat out of the bag.

  I’ve been that girl who has to deny her true feelings in the name of keeping up appearances. There’s no fun in it, no satisfaction in the show. It’s a hollow victory, being able to fool others into believing there isn’t anything wrong with you.

  That you don’t silently scream for release.

  “All I want is for you to explain why you’re so hellbent on making my new life here miserable.” I register the click of the door, but I’ve opened a vein of my own, and I’m content to let it bleed—no matter who hears. “I came out here with no experience of how life in the country works. I was a damn fish out of the water, but I never wanted to create ripples when I fell back in the pond. I just wanted to belong. To start a new life where my day wasn’t dictated by who said what the night before and if my goddamn makeup and hair were picture perfect or not.” Ingrid opens her eyes, straightening in the seat while I continue to dish Amber an extra helping of honesty. “But you took it upon yourself to make my life hel
l, all for something you thought my old friend had done to one of yours. I was never involved, Amber, in any of it.”

  She turns her head, snapping me from my tirade. I realise she watches Dad as he crosses the room and sets his hands on my shoulders.

  “That’ll do, honey.”

  I’m tugged into a familiar warm embrace, the arms that cradled me as a child, securing me from the harsh world once more.

  I can’t recall when I started to cry. I don’t notice Amber rise to her feet.

  But I do hear Mrs Epsom softly block her escape. “No, sweetheart. You can’t avoid the mess you made this time.”

  “This is bullying,” Amber complains, redirected back to her chair.

  “Sucks, doesn’t it?” Willow joins Amber at the table, sitting in the seat adjacent and opposite a stunned silent Dee. “Answer her question: why pick on Lacey?”

  Amber’s gaze meets Dad’s, as though confirming he’s also on board with this interrogation. “I want my parents here if you’re going to gang up on me.”

  “We’re not ganging up on you,” Dad clarifies. “We’re asking you to be honest.”

  “You won’t let me leave, and you’re all treating me as the villain. You’re ganging up on me.”

  Dad sighs, and I pull from his hold. “Charlotte, could you please go and ask Mick if he could join us here?”

  “Of course.” Maggie’s mum leaves the room, the tension palpable.

  “We’ll wait until your step-father arrives,” Dad states. “But believe me, girl, you’ll be answering for yourself all the same.”

  “I’m shaking in my boots,” she sasses.

  Ingrid laughs as she rises from her seat. “You should be. Come on, Willow. Let’s go and round up the others; they’ll want to hear this.”

  “The others?” Amber meerkats in her seat, glancing between the girls.

  “Riverbourne,” I say. “Libby might not have made it out here, but a few of the others did.”

  “And they’re with you?” The tremor in her question is undeniable.

  I nod. “They are.”

  A twitch of her nose, the slightest dilation of her pupils. Tiny nuances that give away her feeling on the situation.