Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,134
all sort of walk around hoping climate change takes us all out before we have to live with the consequences of our bad choices.
People whisper behind cupped hands, red Solo cups in their grips, as we move up the front walk in a group, kicking beer cans out of our way as we go.
“Are we here to party or all business?” Hael asks, turning around and making prayer hands at Vic. His brown eyes are glittering with the possibility of an actual night out.
“Have a little fun, but don’t forget why we’re here,” Vic says, lighting up a cigarette as Hael’s gaze passes over me for a moment. I Love by Joyner Lucas is blasting from several speakers set around the floor. They’re all beat up, covered in stickers, Sharpie, and paint, but they do the job, even if the one on the right is a little tinny. People don’t come to Prescott parties for the music.
They come for the drugs, alcohol, sex … but mostly the gossip.
Hael turns away and disappears into the crowd as I adjust the pink leather jacket I’m wearing. I stole it from the Goodwill that’s down the block from my mom’s place. It’s old and beat-up, and there’s a hole in the left elbow, but it looks badass anyway.
I’ve got on my best leather pants, a full face of makeup, and I’ve tamed my hair into a silken sheet that falls over my shoulders and halfway down my back. As people turn to stare at us, I feel it. Havoc Girl.
“I’ll start searching the top floor,” Aaron says, casting me a look before he slips past and heads up the decrepit looking stairs. I’m surprised they don’t collapse under his weight, or the weight of the other students drinking, smoking, and making out along the steps.
“I’ll take the first floor,” Oscar says, moving off into the throbbing crowd and somehow finding a clear path between the packed, sweaty bodies of students. Cal stays with me and Vic as we navigate down the hall toward what used to be the classrooms. The music switches to hot girl bummer by blackbear, and I cringe. I fucking hate this song.
The crowd in the front room starts to sing in chorus, swaying together with their phones out.
Vic doesn’t bother to knock, pushing open one door after another while Cal does the same on the opposite side of the hallway. The first room is full of students smoking weed and laughing at YouTube videos. The second still has desks in it, and there’s a girl in a Fuller High cheerleading outfit getting nailed over one of them by Jim Dallon. Gross.
“Is that why you wanted me to get that costume?” I ask dryly, cocking a brow at Vic. He turns a grin over his shoulder and lets his eyes devour me from head to toe.
“Might’ve crossed my mind,” he says with a smirk, continuing his search for the Charter crew. I roll my eyes, still completely unsure what the hell is happening here. I’m engaged to Vic. I’ll be married to Vic. I’m bareback fucking Vic. And if I’m not careful, I’ll end up like Kali with a cluster of positive pregnancy tests in my hand. No thank you.
We finish our search, but don’t find any of the eight assholes we’re looking for. Vic checks his phone for texts from Aaron and Oscar, and frowns.
“Nothing,” he says, as we pause near the back door and wait for them to meet up with us. Hael is nowhere to be seen. “They must be out there somewhere.” Vic gestures to the mass of people congregating in what used to be the rear courtyard of the school. The music back here is different, not quite as loud, and clearly not meant to dance to.
As soon as we get through the initial throng near the keg, we spot the Charter crew lounging on some old playground equipment. It must’ve been dumped here by the school district at some point, because this was always a high school. You don’t often find yellow slides and swings past elementary school.
“Howdy boys,” Vic says, tucking his hands in his pockets as the crowd clears away, leaving us in a bubble of empty space around the play equipment. “We’ve been looking for you. Seems there’s a problem with your cars.”
Mitch pushes Kali off his lap and rises to his feet, his pale face already tight with anger.
“You touched my fucking car?” he growls out, and Victor laughs.