Page 48 of Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 2)
“What did you mean by ‘you’ll be mine’, exactly?” Callum asks, smiling slightly. “Just clarifying.”
“All of your questions are self-explanatory,” Vic says, flicking his cigarette onto the cement and turning to head back inside. “We’re having a group meeting on Friday. We’ll hash whatever out then. For now, keep on your toes. Mitch isn’t as stupid as he looks.”
Victor heads for the double doors that lead into Prescott High, shoving through them with both palms.
“Fuck, he’s an asshole,” Hael says, closing his eyes for a brief moment. I notice, though, that he doesn’t let go of me. I’m not really sure what Hael and I are to each other right now, but … we must be something, right?
“You see that, Oscar?” I say, looking past Hael’s shoulder to the gray-eyed prick behind him. “You keep berating me for giving into Vic. Little did you know it was the other way around.”
Oscar’s face tightens as he shoves to his feet, snatching up his iPad in the process.
“I say this with the utmost respect, Bernadette,” he purrs, leaning down to look at me, almost close enough to kiss. “Fuck you.”
I find myself laughing as Oscar takes off after Vic, leaving me alone with Hael, Aaron, and Callum.
“Hey, Bern, can we talk?” Aaron asks as Hael studies me, still sitting in his lap, his arms still wrapped around me. He said he would stand up to Oscar for me, but what about Vic? Can Hael stand up to him for me? Can Aaron? I’d love to see either or both of them try.
“Like Vic said, meeting on Friday. We can talk then.” I push up off of Hael’s lap. I might be the least mad at him, but I’m still pissed. I feel like I’m playing an entirely new game here, and I don’t like it. At least with the old game, I knew the rules. Now, I’m starting from scratch.
Havoc kept secrets from me.
They’re just as bad as I always thought they were, and I won’t make the mistake of underestimating them again.After school, I head down the front steps to find Hael waiting beside his cherry-red Camaro. Our plan this week is to lie low, but that doesn't mean I don't need a ride home.
“Hey Blackbird,” he calls out, smoking a cigarette, leaning casually back against the car like everything is fine and dandy. One might think he didn't have a crazy mother, or a father recently released from prison. We all have our masks, and Hael Harbin wears his well. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” He takes in my leather pants and halter top with stark appreciation.
With the sun on my back, and Hael's smile warming up the rest of me, I almost feel for the briefest of moments like this might be at least an okay afternoon. Neither Pamela nor the Thing should be home today, so maybe I'll invite him up? Hael and I haven't talked about what happened after Victor kicked him out of the room, but maybe we need to?
I should've expected trouble.
And I mean, I did, but from Kali and the Charter Crew, not from some cunt with a Starbucks cup in her hand. I’d have preferred to be knifed, to be honest.
“Havoc,” a voice calls out, and a white streak of rage flashes across my vision. It's mixed with a healthy dose of fear as I turn my head to the right and find Hael's ex, Brittany Burr, standing on the sidewalk in front of Prescott High. She goes to Fuller High; there is absolutely no reason she should be on this side of town. You know, except to fuck up my entire life.
“Excuse me?” I say, and if I were Brittany, I'd probably run. Can she hear the murder in my words? If not, she clearly has no sense of self-preservation. The bourgeois cheerleader cunt stares right back at me with weepy brown eyes. She's looking at me, and not at Hael, but if she's just called out Havoc then there's a reason for it.
Somehow, it never really occurred to me that someone else might call Havoc. I mean, logically, I always knew it was a possibility, but I guess I was showing my naivety by believing it wouldn't happen. Even weirder than hearing Havoc called out, is knowing that I'm as beholden to that word as any of the boys. As a member of Havoc, it's also my duty to carry out requests—and to determine price.
How the tables have turned.
I narrow my eyes on Brittany's pregnant ass, wondering if there’s something in the goddamn water here in Springfield for so many girls to be pregnant. Brittany, Kali … hopefully not me. I bite my lower lip and wonder if I shouldn't take a pregnancy test. I haven't been careful enough, and as much as I believe in a woman's right to choose, I'd rather not have to deal with any of that. Doctors, nurses, questions, medical procedures. It's an invasion of another sort, and I'm not interested in subjecting myself to scrutiny of any kind.
