Boys of Brayshaw High Read online

  “It’s Rae.”

  “You need to make this work. I’ve talked to a few girls here. Maybell lets them do what they want if they follow the rules. At least here, you can still pretty much do as you please, be your bitchy little self and get away with it.” She half laughs as she says it and my eyes cut her way. “You might think I’m just the lady to deposit you, but I’d like to think it will be better for you here. I don’t expect you to be happy, but maybe you can move past the anger your mom left you in.”

  “What, do you double as a shrink or something?”

  She grins and pulls away from the curb, driving the several blocks down to the high school. “No, but someone helped me once, and I’d like to help you the same.”

  “Don’t waste your time, focus on the little ones that don’t understand the lives they’re living.” I turn to look out the windshield. “I’m already ruined.”

  “Hey!” she snaps and I turn to glare at her. “You’re not ruined. Believe it or not, it only takes one person to make you see that. Give it time, you’ll heal.”

  “Not interested. All I want is a life away from anyone who has ever heard my name, fucked my mom, or read my file.” With that, I exit the car and I stare at my new reality – a giant brick building with a cement sign dead in the center.

  With a shake of my head, I make my way up the steps, stopping when Ms. Vega shouts from behind me.

  “This place isn’t like most high schools, Raven. Things are a bit different here then they are where you come from.”

  Tension lines my stomach. “What are you trying to say?”

  She eyes me a moment. “Girls like you aren’t exactly welcomed at a place like this, so ... keep your head down and look the other way.”

  A chuckle bubbles out of me. “Have you met me?”

  “I’m serious,” she stresses, unease lining her forehead.

  “So am I.”

  “Do you want me to come in with you?”

  “Goodbye, Ms. Vega.”

  With her eyes on the building behind me, she nods, gets back in her car and drives away.

  I pause where I stand for a moment.

  I could just take off now, but it’ll do no good. I can’t get a job on my own unless I follow in my mother’s footsteps and at least staying here helps pass the time. Eighteen isn’t too far off.

  “Fuck it,” I mumble and go to push through the door, but it bursts open before I can, and three guys strut out ... three girls following close behind.

  The guys don’t see me as I shifted to the side to avoid being hit by the metal door, but when the girls shuffle out, one of them makes it a point to bump me and she really shouldn’t have done that.

  I guess right off the bat is the best time to show her I’m not the one.

  After she shoulder checks me, I spin and dart forward, grabbing a good full grip of hair in my hand. I go to pull her back, but the moment I do, a large hand wraps around my wrist.

  “Now now,” a deep, teasing voice warns and my glare snaps over my shoulder to find a brown-haired guy who’s about to catch an elbow to the jaw. “No need to act out. We make time for all those ready and willing.”

  “Get your hand off me unless you’re ready and willing to get kicked in the dick.”

  “Ooh, sounds like a good time.” He steps closer. “Now, let go, and show me what else that grip could do.”

  I tighten my fist and the girl cries out more.

  The guy’s smirk deepens, and before I can maneuver away, his hand is gripping my ass. “You wanna come? I can pull your hair too...” he whispers.

  My body grows stiff against his and he barks out a mocking laugh as he lazily steps back.

  My hand falls from the girl’s hair and she grunts before storming back into the school. Probably to fix herself up, superficial as shit.

  “Not as hard as you want to be, are you the new girl?” the guy speaks, a hard edge to his tone as he falls in line with his boys, forming a tight arrow.

  But he’s not the one in the center.

  I offer a shitty smile when really I want to ram a pipe down his throat. “Guess not.”

  “Don’t worry, baby, you’re forgiven. I’ve got it on good word she’s got no gag reflex.”

  I nod lightly. “So she was perfect for you then?”

  The guy tips his chin at my snide tone, but his friends make no move.

  They’re wearing sunglasses, so when I do glance from one to the next – purposefully avoiding looking them over any further – I can’t read the look in their eyes, something I’ve taught myself to do when it comes to the male species.

  I stand there until one of them, the tallest of the three, turns and heads for the parking lot, noting the asshole who put his hands on me is the one to get behind the wheel of a big ass, black, chromed-out SUV, not unlike the other flashy cars in the parking lot but by far the most alluring. There’s something to be said about a sleek SUV with blackout windows. It demands your attention – likely why this dumbass drives it.

  In my neighborhood, though, such a ride tells you where to score or which way to run in – always the opposite direction is the answer. Unless you’re my mother, of course. To her and her friends it’s looking a lion in the eyes hoping it takes the bait – the fancier the ride, the bigger the payout.

  I shake off the thought but catalog the vehicle in my mind.

  Lifting my backpack over one shoulder, I prepare to step through the door for the first time, glancing up at the cement sign above before I do.

  Welcome to Brayshaw High.

  The school officials didn’t allow me into my normal classes today, making me sit through some mandatory behavior and ‘how to avoid confrontation’ videos instead. They even arranged for a cafeteria plate to be brought in – guess they read my file, too. I did, however, manage to sneak off for a couple minutes, pretending to be using the bathroom when really I had to make a point.

  The second the bell rings, summing up an uneventful day one, I’m out the door and soon the building. I continue past the groups beginning to form outside the school and make my way toward the Bray house, but before I can hook left, loud grunts and gasps fill the air.

  I can’t help myself and glance over my shoulder.

  The assholes from this morning stare at the SUV while others whisper beside them, wide eyes and all.

  The groper slams his door shut. “Who the fuck did this?!” he shouts, stepping forward, and funny thing, the entire crowd moves back with his advance. He scans the masses, instantly halting when his eyes land on me, and he surges forward, his buddies hot on his heels.

  I stand in the same place, not moving an inch, not changing my demeanor in any way.

  And I think it ticks him off, all of them actually, because all at once their brows draw in above the rim of their dark shades.

  Unlike this morning, I let my eyes travel the length of the three and I’m not disappointed. If I had to guess based on this moment alone, I’d say they’re the elite – sitting top tier on the pathetic little food chain high school demands.

  Proof is in the way everyone cowers around us – too afraid to face full-on but too starving for gossip to walk away.

  It’s funny though, it’s usually the preppy jocks with gelled up hair and button-ups who run around believing their dicks are magic who run shit. The ones with clean and clear paths to ivy leagues and legacies, those are the type most choose to follow, hoping for an arm in.

  But these three ... they’re the exact opposite of a pretty boy.

  The way they walk, all tall and assertive, forceful and dripping in swag, a physical dominance so solid it commands your attention – there’s nothing clean cut or classic about them. And if my intuition is as on point as usual, then the line they walk is a little more than crooked.

  They’re rough around the edges, boys of power in the streets with something to prove.

  Things to hide.

  I know the type.

  I also know what it feels like to
be wrongly judged, so ...

  “You better start running,” comes from my left and I glance over to find a curly haired girl eyeing the guys as they make their way to me but I make no move.

  They’re in front of me in the next second.

  “You keyed my fucking truck.”

  “Did I?” I tilt my head and his brows jump slightly before he rights them.

  He growls and steps closer, but his buddy clamps a hand down on his shoulder, and little pup takes the master’s order in stride.

  The guy tips his chin and the herd around us starts to scatter like mice on a threat.

  I roll my eyes and make a move to turn, but I’m flanked by the three before I can.

  “You made a mistake, girl.” This comes from the dirty-blond.

  “I don’t disagree. I mean, I’m here after all.”

  The tall, dark-haired one, the big, boss man, I’ve decided, says nothing, but his intensity has the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention.

  “You’ll learn quick,” the groper warns. “We don’t put up with this type of shit—”

  A humorless laugh escapes before I can stop it and all three of their pretty little heads tug back. I take a step closer. “I’ll learn?” I mock, popping a brow like a brat. “Touch me like you did again, and I’ll burn your sweet ride to the ground, you might even be in it when I do. Maybe then you’ll learn.” I flutter my eyelashes like a floozy, pulling on a man’s upper hand by deeming the one that hangs between his legs. “A girl needs a little lead-up.”

  “Bitch—”

  The big man raises a hand to cut him off and I swear his stare burns through those blackout lenses and into mine. Adrenaline bursts with each passing second, but annoyance wins and has my anger flaring.

  Not a word is spoken, but as if all inner connected, the three turn and stomp away simultaneously. Groper, though, makes sure to throw a few glares over his shoulder.

  “You’re so screwed.”

  I spin to find the same girl standing off to the side, hidden by the shadow of the overgrown trees. “And you’re nosy.” I walk past her, but she catches up.

  “Well, yeah but that’s beside the point. And you’re crazy if you think I was the only one watching. They all were.”

  “Then maybe you all need to find something better to do.” As soon as I step off the school grounds, I stop to lean against a tree, pulling apart the worn rubber of my tattered pleather boots and slide my pre-roll out.

  “Did you just pull a joint from the side of your shoe?”

  “I wasn’t sure if they’d search me or not.” I shrug then wink. “And a blunt wouldn’t fit.”

  She laughs and grabs it when I pass it her way.

  When she stays at my side past the first two blocks, I skim her over from the faded black cargos and old band T-shirt. Not that it couldn’t be what she’d chose to wear on her own, but something tells me she’s headed where I am.

  “You’re Raven Carver, aren’t you?”

  I face forward with a frown.

  “Sorry, but Maybell told me you were coming today. I didn’t think you’d be at school already, but usually the only new kids who come are people from the home.”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly given an option so, here I am.”

  “Are you gonna run?”

  I laugh lightly, shifting my eyes to hers. “Nah. I’ve got nowhere to be. Now I’m stuck in the system ‘til I’m eighteen anyway, so fuck it. May as well cruise through.”

  “Those guys back there, you need to be careful. They’re... not like most high schoolers. People around here listen to them, follow their every move.”

  So those are the guys the chick was referring to this morning.

  “What you did today? They won’t allow that without getting you back. They can’t.” She shakes her head.

  “I keyed his Denali.” I shrug. “Big fucking deal.”

  The girl stops, her eyes widening. “Yeah, you got that part right. It is a ‘big fucking deal.’ If they let some nobody, new girl like you – no offense – openly disrespect them like that, it’ll threaten their entire system.”

  “System.”

  “Yeah. System. They’re a big deal around here, and not just at the school. You either kneel at their feet or get stomped under them. They’ll make sure you’re shamed, one way or another.”

  We make our way up the dirt driveway. “He disrespected me first. If there’s one thing I know about guys, it’s if you let them walk all over you, they’ll take pleasure in doing it.”

  The girl steps ahead, pulling open the screen door as she looks back at me. “If there’s one thing I know about the boys of Brayshaw, it’s that they’ll destroy anything that threatens to mess up their vision. Watch out, Raven. Your little stunt today may have gotten the guys you’re used to off your back, but for these guys? All you did was paint the mark brighter.”

  I raise a black brow and she scowls at me.

  “A target from them means a target from all their followers,” she spits.

  Right. “Let me guess... you’re a follower?”

  This time it’s her who pops an eyebrow. “Welcome to Brayshaw High.”

  I drop onto my mattress, plugging my earphones into the old MP3 player I stole from one of my mom’s nightly visitors, slip my pocket knife into the waist of my sweats, and crank the music up as loud as it will go. I turn on my flashlight and set it beside my head and I lie there, staring at the door, hearing no sound but the angry cries of Halsey as she sings to me about the demons that are fighting their way out. Hours pass before my eyes give up on me and force themselves closed.

  She was right. They’re angry. All of them.

  So far, every person I’ve passed has met me with a glare, one they got right back from my end. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m fresh for their critical little eyes or how my shoes have holes like my jeans and theirs are crisp as fuck with no fading, but I got a feeling it’s a bit more than that since they’re used to poor kids coming in and out of their school from the Bray houses.

  Either way, there’s a difference between nasty and needy and these clowns are needy as fuck. They need everyone to know where they stand as far as the new trash in class goes.

  And it’s cool. I’m used to the judgment, it makes my role a lot easier. It’s when you try to change people’s minds that things get tricky.

  “Raven Carver,” the teacher announces as she shushes me toward the back of the class and that’s that.

  Several hours and a few more non-stimulating classes pass before lunch rolls around.

  I’m not much of an eater when munchies or sugar isn’t involved so I pass on the free lunch options, grabbing an apple off the cart without being seen and drop down at the nearest empty table. I’ve only started to people watch when I’m jolted and my ass slams to the floor.

  Laughter echoes around and rage has my vision blurring. I grind my teeth together to help regain focus.

  Fucking karma.

  I’m quick to my feet, spinning to glare at the girl who brazenly stands tall.

  I’ve seen her around, noticed the way the girls gawk in envy while the guys drool in interest. She’s the ‘it girl,’ the one with the harem behind her. Pretty brown hair and a prettier face. Tiny clothes and a fancy bag. Physically speaking, she’s top shelf.

  “You better watch yourself, trash. Mess with one of us again and see what happens.” She looks left and my gaze follows, finding the girl who bumped into me yesterday hiding a few feet back, mixed in with the rest of her minions.

  We’ve got the attention of the entire room now, and unlike they did with the guys where they were channeling their inner mutes, this time they openly stare and talk shit in the background.

  Seems she doesn’t warrant the same level of respect as they do, but she knows what she’s doing. Get me on my ass for all the circles to see, deliver a drop the mic performance. This is her open and intended show of power.

  No.

  A slig
ht chuckle escapes and then I’m shoving her against the wall before she has time to squeal, my forearm pressing into her neck.

  I step closer, throwing her words right back. “Mess with me again ... and see what happens. I don’t play poker, princess, I lay it all out upfront. You’ve got a problem? Put it on the table or find another to play your little game.”

  “Touch me and Mad—”

  A whistle sounds and all the commotion stops instantly. Literally, not a single fucking sound heard in the second that follows, none but the slight screech of leather against freshly polished flooring. It’s easy to pan multiple bodies growing closer with each step, and then they’re stopping right behind me.

  The empress begins squirming against my hold, pretending she hadn’t already given up against my grip. I push tighter and her eyes squeeze shut.

  “Let her go.”

  “I don’t think I will,” I respond, half looking over my shoulder.

  Instantly, a male presence surrounds me and my muscles lock.

  He’s close. So close his hot breath creates a sheath of sweat at the base of my neck, tension growing in the pit of my stomach from the guy’s nearness.

  I attempt to shift away, but he only presses harder, his entire chest now flush to my back.

  I battle to keep my breathing steady, force my body still, but he doesn’t let up like I expected, like I had hoped, and survival mode starts to kick in. I’m seconds away from losing my shit and causing real problems for myself – or them, whatever.

  The bitch in front of me smirks, thinking she’s somehow won since the king’s come to the rescue.

  Doesn’t she know how kings work?

  A rescue means a price, a price turns into a favor, a favor becomes your moment of shame.

  Shame is what ruins you.

  But if he’s the king coming to her rescue ... maybe she’s his queen.

  A large hand slides past my face to grip my wrist lodged against her throat, and with little to no effort, he pulls me from the girl, spinning me around to take her place as she falls to the side, coughing.

  He does let her ass hit the floor so her pedestal must not be too high.