Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,78
blood,” Stacey calls out as she sashays down the hall with bored, half-lidded eyes and too many rings on her right hand to simply be decorative. “Watch your back, Blackbird.” She takes her posse into the restroom as I grit my teeth and exhale, pushing open the door to Mr. Darkwood’s class.
Everyone turns to look at me, including Kali, one hand wrapped over the bandage on her arm, her doe eyes wet with fake tears. Part of me wishes the boys would kill her. That's how dark my life has become. But the thing is, her betrayal helped seal my own coffin years ago. It's natural for me to want her dead, isn't it?
“Oh, look,” Kali says, sniffling and rubbing at her nose. “It's Havoc's little bitch.”
For years, the Havoc Boys have worked their asses off to get control of this school. It's why I hired them. But it only takes one dissenting asshole to break that control, to let the world know they're not as scary as they pretend to be.
And now I'm one of them, right?
I stride forward in my acid-wash jeans, cropped sweatshirt, and boots, and I don't skip a beat before I pull back and sock Kali Rose as hard as I can in the face. Blood spurts from her nose as she rocks back, but I'm not done, snatching the front of her pink sweater and yanking her back toward me.
“Are you fucking serious? Your name is already on my list, but how deep, exactly, the boys dig your hole is up to you.” I let go of her and shove the sleeve up on my sweater. It bares my midriff and all my ink, but also hides the raw, angry wound on my arm, closed up with Vic's perfect, tiny black stitches. “You ordered Billie to cut me, and I handled it just fine. I cut you, and you run off to the hospital sucking on Ms. Keating's tit.”
Kali's face fills with rage, but she knows I've backed her into a tight corner here. If Mr. Darkwood comes in and she tattles, all of Prescott High will know she's a goddamn snitch. And then I won't have to wait for the boys to get my vengeance; somebody else will do it for us.
“You talk shit about Havoc, you pay the price.” I stand up straight, and fix my sweatshirt sleeve, letting my gaze travel around the rest of the room before I take my seat.
Kali's still sitting there, holding her bleeding nose and staring at me. But behind that lick of fear in her eyes, there's rage. She isn't done with me. Good. Because I'm not done with her either.
When Mr. Darkwood comes in, Kali asks for the hall pass to clean up her bloody nose, and I sit down to work on my poem.
Confucius says dig two graves before embarking on a journey of revenge.
But what if that revenge is the only thing keeping you alive?
And what if the people you're seeking revenge on deserve it?
If Batman had just killed the Joker from the get-go, how many more people would still be alive?
Sometimes the bad guys have to die, so if I have to dig two graves, so be it. Better than digging three.
I title the poem Heather and turn it in, heading for my next class when the bell rings and pausing in the restroom just long enough to wash the blood from my knuckles.
“I would've paid to see her face when you hauled off and punched her,” Callum says with a chuckle, smoking a cigarette and alternating drags with sips of his Pepsi. His blue eyes scan the cafeteria, looking for trouble. “I bet it was goddamn gold.”
“She's not afraid enough,” I reply, staring out across the room. The first few weeks I hung out with Havoc, it was like they were gods. But now, with this bullshit between the boys and the Ensbrook-Charter brothers, I can feel a shift. People are waiting, watching. This school is a den of lions, and if we don't deliver a little fresh meat, that reputation is all but done for.
Victor doesn't seem to care, scribbling diligently on some homework he missed during our suspension. I grit my teeth, and ignore him, focusing on Oscar as he continues to make notes on his iPad.
“You asked me who I wanted to hit next? I want Kali.” Oscar pauses briefly to look up at me, adjusts his glasses, and then refocuses his attention on the screen.