Boys of Brayshaw High - Meagan Brandy Page 0,6

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When she stays at my side past the first two blocks, I skim her over from the faded black cargos and old band T-shirt. Not that it couldn’t be what she’d chose to wear on her own, but something tells me she’s headed where I am.

“You’re Raven Carver, aren’t you?”

I face forward with a frown.

“Sorry, but Maybell told me you were coming today. I didn’t think you’d be at school already, but usually the only new kids who come are people from the home.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly given an option so, here I am.”

“Are you gonna run?”

I laugh lightly, shifting my eyes to hers. “Nah. I’ve got nowhere to be. Now I’m stuck in the system ‘til I’m eighteen anyway, so fuck it. May as well cruise through.”

“Those guys back there, you need to be careful. They’re... not like most high schoolers. People around here listen to them, follow their every move.”

So those are the guys the chick was referring to this morning.

“What you did today? They won’t allow that without getting you back. They can’t.” She shakes her head.

“I keyed his Denali.” I shrug. “Big fucking deal.”

The girl stops, her eyes widening. “Yeah, you got that part right. It is a ‘big fucking deal.’ If they let some nobody, new girl like you – no offense – openly disrespect them like that, it’ll threaten their entire system.”

“System.”

“Yeah. System. They’re a big deal around here, and not just at the school. You either kneel at their feet or get stomped under them. They’ll make sure you’re shamed, one way or another.”

We make our way up the dirt driveway. “He disrespected me first. If there’s one thing I know about guys, it’s if you let them walk all over you, they’ll take pleasure in doing it.”

The girl steps ahead, pulling open the screen door as she looks back at me. “If there’s one thing I know about the boys of Brayshaw, it’s that they’ll destroy anything that threatens to mess up their vision. Watch out, Raven. Your little stunt today may have gotten the guys you’re used to off your back, but for these guys? All you did was paint the mark brighter.”

I raise a black brow and she scowls at me.

“A target from them means a target from all their followers,” she spits.

Right. “Let me guess... you’re a follower?”

This time it’s her who pops an eyebrow. “Welcome to Brayshaw High.”

I drop onto my mattress, plugging my earphones into the old MP3 player I stole from one of my mom’s nightly visitors, slip my pocket knife into the waist of my sweats, and crank the music up as loud as it will go. I turn on my flashlight and set it beside my head and I lie there, staring at the door, hearing no sound but the angry cries of Halsey as she sings to me about the demons that are fighting their way out. Hours pass before my eyes give up on me and force themselves closed.

She was right. They’re angry. All of them.

So far, every person I’ve passed has met me with a glare, one they got right back from my end. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m fresh for their critical little eyes or how my shoes have holes like my jeans and theirs are crisp as fuck with no fading, but I got a feeling it’s a bit more than that since they’re used to poor kids coming in and out of their school from the Bray houses.

Either way, there’s a difference between nasty and needy and these clowns are needy as fuck. They need everyone to know where they stand as far as the new trash in class goes.

And it’s cool. I’m used to the judgment, it makes my role a lot easier. It’s when you try to change people’s minds that things get tricky.

“Raven Carver,” the teacher announces as she shushes me toward the back of the class and that’s that.

Several hours and a few more non-stimulating classes pass before lunch rolls around.

I’m not much of an eater when munchies or sugar isn’t involved so I pass on the free lunch options, grabbing an apple off the cart without being seen and drop down at the nearest empty table. I’ve only started to people watch when I’m jolted and my ass slams to the floor.

Laughter echoes around and rage has my vision blurring. I grind my teeth together to help regain focus.

Fucking karma.

I’m quick to my feet, spinning to glare at the girl who

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