Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,34
nose and glance his way, watching him inhale, little tendrils of smoke escaping his nostrils. He looks like a different person in that outfit, all cleaned-up like one of the yuppie assholes out on the green.
“You’re delusional,” I murmur, turning away before he catches me studying him. “Everyone in that school hates you and your crew, and you know it.”
“They’re afraid of me, and that’s a whole different sort of animal.” Vic flicks his cigarette butt into the fountain, proving he has about as much respect for these rich assholes as I do. “You should know: you’re afraid of me, too.”
“Like hell I am,” I snort, shaking my head and laughing. “I used to be, sure. Not anymore. I’ve been beaten into a whole different shape.” I look up at him and my smile fades away to nothing. “I’m not afraid of anything anymore.”
“Can you get your mom to sign off on our marriage?” he asks suddenly, surprising me, his face this dark, impossible mask. “You’re still seventeen, right? We’ll need her permission.”
The color drains from my face at the thought of asking her anything; Vic notices and smirks at me.
“Maybe you’re not afraid of me, but you’re still afraid of her. Don’t worry: we’ll get her to sign off.” He pushes off the wall, pulls a small bottle of body spray from his pocket, and spritzes both of us. “Let’s go say bye to Ophelia.”
My mouth tightens, but I follow after him.
I have to, to pay my end of the bargain.
I’ll have to do a lot of other things, too. I just haven’t been asked to do any of them yet.
Yet.
There seems to be this unspoken thing about me spending the night at Aaron’s again. We don’t talk much—or at all on Sunday since I just chill in his room and play with my phone—but I know I can’t stay here forever. For now, Heather’s still staying with a friend. Eventually, I’ll have to go home when she does.
Home.
Like that place has ever felt like home …
On Monday, Aaron wakes me up for school. I help him get the girls together, and he drives us all in the van, dropping them off first, then taking us to Prescott. The sign out front has seen better days. Prescott Senior High, Home of the Loggers has been adjusted to have an extra ‘F’ in front of the school mascot, announcing us as the floggers. Someone’s even drawn Ms. Keating with a whip in her hand. Nice touch.
Aaron parks across the street, and we head up the front walk together, enduring the metal detectors, K9 units, and pat downs before we’re released into what’s essentially a prison. Bars on the windows? Check. A rigid, airtight schedule? Check. Fellow inmates with grudges and chips on their shoulders? Check, check.
I can see Kali watching me while she pretends to be engrossed in her phone. When she catches me looking, our eyes meet, and she turns away, scurrying down the hall like a rat.
“It’s nice to see that your unscrupulous morals allow you to go after a mark that used to be a client,” I say when I run into Victor, forcing a tight smile to my lips, my hands curling into fists by my sides. As far as I can tell, Kali sent Havoc after me over a boy, a pageant, and a jealousy so bright it burns.
Pathetic.
“Unscrupulous? No, just business-minded. Kali paid her dues, we delivered her product,” Vic replies smoothly, but really he must know I was talking more to Aaron than anyone else. His dark eyes scan the halls, looking for trouble. Nobody meets his gaze; they know better than that. “She's nothing to us.” Victor looks right at me, but I can't catch whatever hidden meaning there is in that. You'll be nothing to us one day, too. Was that it? “Get to class, and let us know if anyone bugs you.”
He takes off down the hall in his boots, holey jeans, and black wifebeater. I'm not sure if I've ever seen a man so confident in himself. It's obvious with each step he takes, the way he slides his palm over his purple-black hair, the way he glances back at me with ebon eyes.
“You can pick your jaw up off the floor,” Aaron growls, pushing past me and storming off after his boss as Oscar chuckles and tucks his long fingers into the pockets of his slacks.
“Fancy the boss, do you?” he asks, and I shake my head.