Page 38 of Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 2)
But people who kill other people are murderers, right? Villains. Only a villain can truly stop another villain. There is no room in this world for heroes; they only get in the way.
“A lot of shit has happened in my life,” Hael says, moving away from me and pausing to look at a poster of a girl in a bikini, straddling the hood of a Ferrari. He smirks at it and shakes his head, turning away from the wall to look at me. “I always wanted to be the good guy, you know. But, uh …” Hael pauses to laugh, the sound as dark as the black paint on my nails. “If you want justice, you have to seek vengeance.” He shrugs his big shoulders, looking me dead in the face. “You understand that, right? That's why you're here.”
“I'm not afraid to sully myself to make things right,” I admit, flashes of that awful video playing in the back of my skull. I can never unsee it. I can never shake those horrible images. Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it back. The Thing will get what's coming to him. No matter Havoc's other faults, that I don't doubt. “But I have to ask …” Hael reaches down and tucks a strand of white-blonde hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering at the pink-tipped ends. “Is it true that Vic is the only one who wanted me in Havoc?”
Hael hesitates, like he's debating the merits of answering me, when the door opens. Of course it's Vic, and he doesn't bother to knock. He looks around the room like he's familiar with it but hasn't been here in a long time. Memories flash across his face, a flicker of nostalgia that makes me hate him just a little bit less than I love him.
Ugh.
Fuck.
Of course I love Victor Channing. I always have. From that first moment on the playground, he took my heart in his hands when he shoved that brat down the slide for me. Victor Channing punched me in the face between first and second period for saying Bernadette Blackbird was hot. I can't forget that even when they were kicking the shit out of me during sophomore year, they were still on my side.
Which means that whatever price Kali paid must've been good.
“We should go,” Vic says, his voice a thread of ice and steel. He gives Hael a look. “He just pulled into the driveway.”
“He?” I ask as Hael grits his teeth, exhaling and nodding sharply.
“My dad,” he says, giving me a look that communicates volumes without a single word. “We don't exactly get along.”
“Is it true that he cut you up with a hunting knife?” I ask, pointing at the scar on Hael's arm, the one that goes from fingertip to shoulder. That's the rumor at Prescott High, that his father did that to him. But then, rumors at Prescott High are a lesson in the game of telephone; they grow leaps and bounds with each fantastical retelling.
Hael licks his lips and gives a curt nod.
“Yeah, something like that …” he starts as an unfamiliar male voice sounds from down the hall. Oscar's smooth, cool reply comes in response, and a shiver traces down my spine. “Tell ya more later, Blackbird, I promise.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze as he moves past, and Vic and I exchange a look.
“You're not going to like Hael's dad,” he tells me, and I cock a brow, so done with his bullshit I could scream. We're going to have to have it out soon, Vic and me.
“Why’s that?” I quip back, popping my hip out and putting my hand on it.
“Because he murdered a pregnant prostitute,” Vic replies with a sardonic smile. He moves past me and down the hall, leaving me to gape behind him. A million questions slither through my mind, but I'm not about to miss out on this interaction. I move down the hall as quick as I can, expecting to find a man like my stepfather, a wolf in wolf's clothing. The Thing never tries to hide what a monster he is. He feels protected, by his badge and his brother's law degree and his father's gavel.
Instead, I find a slender man in a baseball cap, smiling as he pulls the hat from his head and holds it against his chest.
“Long time, no see, son,” he says as Hael stares at him from across the width of the small living room. The sweet smell of creamed butter and sugar wafts out from the direction of the kitchen. It's at odds with the tension in the room, reminding me that not everything is as it seems. The air smells sweet, the sound of Hael's mother's humming is comforting, but the look in Hael's eyes promises there's much more to this happy, little story than he's letting on.
