Page 140 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
So far, the only interesting bit of gossip I've encountered personally is that Trinity got a boob job when she turned sixteen. Unremarkable except for the smugness I get at knowing Prescott girls keep it real. I mean, we can't afford fake tits anyway. But otherwise, it seems our mystery woman is squeaky clean.
That, or she's just really, really good at keeping her secrets steeped in shadows.Oscar MontaukFor weeks I've been watching Bernadette and waiting for the right time to move forward. The day of the murder mystery party, I almost did it, spilled everything out into the open for her to hear. Of course, Victor fucked that up when he interrupted.
Truth be told, I probably would’ve backtracked anyway, said something that I regretted. Despite how hard I've tried to keep Bernadette at arm’s length, she just keeps coming. At this point, she's too entangled in our world for me to save her by driving her away.
All I can do now is help her embrace the darkness.
“Where are you going?” she asks when she sees me standing near the door to the hallway, dressed in black jeans and an Oak Valley Prep hoodie. Don’t ask how I got it. Obviously, I stole it. I might not be as skilled in that arena as Callum, but you don’t survive in Prescott without learning how to take what you need.
“One of Trinity’s friends,” I begin, gesturing absently at my face, “has a big mouth. I learned from her that Trinity has plans for tonight.”
Bernadette gives a curt nod.
“Based on the way you were just gesturing, I’m going to guess this is the friend with the fucked-up nose job?”
I stare back at her, but the joke falls flat because I refuse to laugh at it. Because I’m so goddamn worried about staying in control all the time. It’s just force of habit now, something I’ve learned to live with. But it’s a habit I’d quite literally kill to break.
Then again, I kill for all sorts of reasons.
“Okay, never mind then,” Bernie says, standing there in a loose-fitting t-shirt and some borrowed boxers. It takes me a moment to realize that she’s wearing my boxers. My fingers twitch and then curl into fists.
Seeing her in my clothes makes me feel … impossible. As in, I have no idea how to behave. Emotions burn through me like flames, but there’s no outlet for them other than my wicked tongue.
“Why don’t you go join Victor in the shower? I don’t need a companion for this, and your skillsets lie elsewhere.” I blink through the acidity of my own words, the contacts I’m wearing burning my eyes as I hold them open for far too long in between.
“Did you just … call me a whore?” Bernie asks, putting her hands on her hips and looking down at the floor with her green eyes closed for a brief moment. “Because if you did, we’re going to have problems.”
I feel all of that hate and pain inside of me twist into a tight knot, and then a scoff comes out that I barely register.
“Put on some proper clothes and meet me in the hallway.” I step out and slam the door behind me, only to find Cal waiting against the far wall. He’s got one foot up on the paneling behind him, hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie. “Don’t start with me today,” I warn him, moving past him and pausing below a terribly unflattering impressionist painting. It’s as if Claude Monet’s Poppies were vomited out the mouth of an amateur.
I sneer at the wall because I sincerely despise the wealthy.
My father was one. He thought of himself as an aristocrat. And then, one day, he found out we’d lost everything, and he snapped. I ended up half-strangled in a hole with my dead mother’s arms wrapped around me. My skin ripples in a shiver that I can’t control; there are many reasons why I hate being touched. Every time those thoughts get so loud that I can’t breathe, I get a new tattoo or a piercing and the pain drives it away like a cross wielded by an exorcist.
“O, don’t fuck this up for yourself,” Callum warns, and I glance back to see that he’s stood up and thrown his hood back. Once, right after it happened, I let Cal hug me. Just once. It lasted ten minutes, and then I never let anyone touch me again after that. But we both remember. He’s always been the closest friend I’ve had in Havoc. “Tell her why you’re struggling, tell her that you love her, and then stop fucking punishing yourself. I swear to god, I just had this same conversation with Bernadette.”
Callum pauses as the door opens and she appears as if summoned … wearing one of my fucking button-downs and a tie over my boxer shorts.
