When Kali finally started showing up to class at the beginning of the week, her face was bruised beyond recognition, and her eyes burned with a seething hatred that made my skin itch. At some point, there’s going to be a confrontation between us, and it isn’t going to end well.

At least now she has something real to hate me for. I did just bash in her face in. But before that, what did I ever do to her? We haven’t got any sort of relationship where I might be able to ask her why. Why did you do those things to me? Why did you steal my essay? Why did you call Havoc?

It never escaped my attention that Kali had eyes for Aaron. I always knew that, but it never bothered me because I knew he was truly and wholly mine. Still is, I think. I mean, he spent years not fucking any other girls because of me. I don’t care much about words—people lie, after all—but actions, now that’s another story.

And Aaron, well, he’s told me all he needs to with his celibacy.

By Friday, I’m certain that I’m right about both things: Aaron is still mine … and Kali still wants him.

I’m standing outside the doors to the cafeteria, waiting for the boys, my knuckles throbbing from the fresh ink. I’ve taken good care of my new tattoo, washing it with Dial soap and rubbing it with Aquaphor, but ouch, the knuckles are a hard place to take the needle.

“How’s it healing?” Aaron asks, pausing to stand beside me. I glance his way, and my breath catches in my throat. How can he do that to me, leave me breathless and aching? We were always star-crossed lovers, too sweet to find a happily-ever-after, destined for some bittersweet ending that stings the tongue. Yet here we are, freshly fucked, and gazing at one another like we’d rather be naked and alone somewhere.

“The bruise you left on my hip?” I ask, pressing my hand against my pelvic bone and smirking. “Or the tattoo?”

“Well, since you brought it up,” Aaron starts, eyes sparkling with surprise. With the exception of Wednesday at the garage, I’ve been avoiding him a bit, and he knows it. Unlike Vic however, he’s giving me space to breathe. I’m not sure if I love that or hate it. Mostly, I just want him to touch me. “Feel free to discuss either.” He tosses back his cherry coke and then leans down to put his lips near mine. “But I’m more interested in hearing about your sexual battle scars.” He pauses, licking his lips, smelling like roses and sandalwood, his breath sweet with cherry soda.

“In that case, my ass still hurts, and I have finger-shaped bruises on my thighs,” I whisper back, wondering if I should touch him, curl my arm around his neck, kiss him.

As Aaron’s leaning over me, I spot Kali standing down the hall, staring at the two of us from her bruised and swollen face. She’s got Billie, Ivy, and a few of their trashy friends standing at her side, but she doesn’t approach us. Obviously, there’s been no sign of Danny, and the tension in Prescott High is ratcheting up to dangerous levels, but despite their poking and prodding against Havoc, we haven’t moved on the Charter Crew.

Yet.

The way Kali is looking at me … I can sense something beyond her usual hatred, a longing, a reaching, a silent pleading. After all, she’s known Aaron about as long as I have. I remember her in junior high, twirling her hair around her finger and watching him from across the grassy area in front of the school.

“He’s the kind of boy you want to marry,” she’d told me in her thirteen-year-old voice, like she knew the secrets of the entire world.

Vic appears before I can decide what to do, and Aaron pulls back slightly. But not out of fear—out of respect. He hates Victor, but he respects the hell out of him. That, and he desperately wants his approval.

“We need to do something about Kali,” I say as she turns away abruptly, heading for the front entrance of the school with her girls in tow. Stacey Langford watches them carefully from the vicinity of her locker, eyes narrowed. In general, it’s her job to deal with girl drama at Prescott. Kali and Billie are ruining her carefully crafted empire, one that shines, even with Havoc’s shadow cast over it.

“We will,” Vic says, nodding briskly, eyes tracking Principal Vaughn. He’s kept his distance from us. In fact, he hasn’t even looked our way since he got back. I wonder how long he thinks this careful dance is going to last? Everyone knows that once the requiem is over, the mourners leave the cemetery. “Actually, Callum and I have a special present planned for their crew. We’ll drop it off tonight.” He lights up a cigarette, passing it my way after a drag. Our eyes meet and something dark travels through me. I’d call it a shooting star, but it’s much more wicked than that. Still, it streaks through the endless blackness of my soul before disappearing into the infinite depths of the universe.

Hael catches up to us next, but he isn’t smiling.

“I’m going with Brittany today to talk to her dad,” he says, raking his fingers through his hair. “Oh, and she wants us to take care of a Fuller High football player that she fucked while we were at the lake house.”

Vic raises both brows, glancing over at his friend as I smoke my cigarette. Aaron finally tears his gaze from mine to look at Hael.

“The one she cheated on you with before school started?” Vic clarifies, and seeing someone as built and beautiful as him say something so inane twists up my sense of reality. He’s too muscular, too big, too brutal to be a high school student. At least he’ll be eighteen soon.

“Nope,” Hael grinds out, lighting up a cigarette of his own. The boys disabled the smoke alarm in this hallway on the first day of school. I know, because after I called Havoc, I saw them later that day fucking around with it and, like everyone else at Prescott High, I pretended like I didn’t notice. “That was the quarterback, the one Cal nailed in the face with hot coffee. Brittany says he, uh,”—and here Hael stops to give a bitter laugh and a shake of his head—“didn’t even come while he was inside of her. And she used a condom. The only other possible father for this kid is the fullback, some douche named Rich Pratt.”

“You learned this all last night?” Vic asks, and Hael turns away. Clearly, he’s been holding onto this information for the last ten days. There’s hurt pride in his face that makes me wonder if he ever really cared for Brittany. If she’s truly carrying his child, are they going to make a go of it? I could see that happening, based on Hael’s white-knight complex.

The thought infuriates me, but I hold it back.

“Let’s send some of the boys to deal with Rich,” Aaron suggests, and Vic nods. Beating the shit out of some guy Brittany slept with doesn’t warrant the actual use of Havoc’s leaders. A use for peons, as Cal might say. “Did she say why she thought he might be the dad?”

Hael frowns as Cal sidles up beside us, Oscar close behind him. He looks right at me, but I give him nothing in return. I want him to keep wondering if I might spill the beans to Vic about his proposal. That’d make him feel vindicated, I bet, like I’m truly the loose-lipped snitch that he seemingly wants me to be.

“Brittany slipped out of the cabin and fucked this Rich guy at the lake’s clubhouse,” Hael says, nostrils flared. “She says he used a condom, too, and that it was only once. My neck is on the chopping block, guys.” Hael glances my way, almost apologetically. “I was hoping that with you a part of Havoc, things could be different. I’m sorry, Bernie.” I open my mouth to respond when I hear Mitch’s laugh from the end of the hallway.

He’s standing there with his brother, Logan, as well as Danny’s brothers, Timmy and Kyler. They’re all watching us carefully, but it’s only Mitch who’s smirking. Timmy and Kyler have murder in their eyes. Likely, they think they’ve gotten away with fire-bombing Aaron’s van. Guess they don’t know Havoc as well as I do. Ever heard the fable of the tortoise and the hare? Havoc is the tortoise. A super fucked-up tortoise with a shell of pain and fury, but there you go.

“Why does she want us to beat him up?” Aaron asks, and I glance back at Hael.

“He won’t talk to her. Blocked her on social media. Started spreading rumors that Brittany’s been screwing the entire football team. I mean, she’s trying her best, but she’s only managed to nail two so far.” Hael scowls again and rakes his fingers through his red hair. His face has got a full five o’ clock shadow going on now, but I don’t dislike it. My hands itch to touch him, just to see how he feels against my fingertips.

“What a prick,” I say, and all five boys turn to look at me. “What? Brittany cheating on you is fucked, and honestly, I’m praying to the darkest gods I know that she isn’t having your baby. But also, this other guy, Rich, he needs to accept that he might have some responsibility in this. He deserves to have his ass kicked.”

“Our little feminist in residence,” Vic says with a sideways smirk. I give him a look and cross my arms over my chest with the creak of leather.

“You’re not a feminist? Because if you aren’t, we have a problem.” Victor whistles in response to my question and then pauses when he sees Detective Constantine walk by, watching us. He’s been at the school every goddamn day this week. I know the boys said they’ve killed before, but to be honest, the anxiety about the whole thing is starting to get to me. It feels like the guillotine is slowly sliding toward our necks. Between my list, and the Charter Crew, and the cops? How is Havoc going to survive this? I’m starting to wonder if I’ve put the final nail in their coffin.

“Oh, I’m a feminist for sure,” Vic says, but he’s not really looking at me anymore, his attention homed in on Mitch. If I were Mitch, and I saw Victor Channing look at me like that, I’d run. Fast. And I wouldn’t look back. “A third wave feminist: women are just plain better.” He grins and pats me on the head which is extremely patronizing. I can’t decide if I should be mad at him or not. “Let’s get out of here; we have shit to do.”