Shit.

Oscar comes next, frowning hard, his glasses askew, one of the lenses cracked. If I were the police on either side of him, I’d be afraid. Even handcuffed, even being assorted out of a high school surrounded by rifles, he’s dangerous.

“Hey, Bernie, you’re beautiful in the worst possible way,” Cal chortles as he walks past, laughing and laughing and laughing, his blond hair shimmering under the fluorescent lights.

They hit the front doors of the school as I stand there in a panic, my mind blank, my mouth hanging open.

But … but Havoc is untouchable … right?

“Looks like even Satan makes mistake,” Mitch calls out, and then one of the nameless Charter Crew assholes sets off a party popper, exploding confetti across our classmates. They start to whoop and chant, a near deafening sound in the crowded hallway.

Kali giggles and cuddles up against Mitch’s side, flicking a poisonous glance my direction as she throws up a fist in the air and cheers.

It’d be impossible right now to look around this school and miss the dark, quiet expressions on some of the students’ faces. These are the Prescott kids with skeleton masks in their lockers. I feel a solidarity with them. Blood in, blood out.

“Alright, everyone,” Ms. Keating says, giving my arm a comforting squeeze. “That’s enough of that. Back to class.” Laughter and groaning echo around the school as people file reluctantly back into their classrooms, whispering behind cupped hands, their eyes darting straight to me.

The disgraced Queen of Havoc.

A queen who isn’t entirely sure what to do just yet.

“Aw, look, the bitch is about to cry,” Billie purrs, and I swear, I nearly fracture my jaw when I grit my teeth against a surge of violence. As much as I’d love to recreate what I did to Kali by smashing her face into a locker, there are too many witnesses around and clearly, this is not a good moment to be stirring up trouble.

“Don’t pray for trouble, Hael,” Oscar said. Damn but he was dead-on.

“Do you need a minute to calm down, Bernadette?” Ms. Keating asks, standing close by, her face pinched with concern. I look back at her, dressed in her yellow suit jacket, BLM t-shirt, and black pencil skirt, still colorful, still alive.

“Nah, I’m good,” I say. The words sound normal enough, but to my ears, they ring with a hollowness that reminds me of dry bones and roadkill. I turn and head back into the classroom, taking my seat and pretending like I don’t notice everyone staring at me.

We never went over this scenario, and I never asked, because I didn’t think it could happen. I didn’t think. I did. Not. Think.

During lunch, I check my phone, but there’s nothing from the boys. Likely, they used their one phone call to lawyer up. Bet they already have one on retainer. Chewing my lower lip, I lean back on the bench in the cafeteria, ignoring the gossip and acting like I don’t have a care in the world. Yeah, we knew this was going to happen. No big thing. Got it handled.

Victor told me to finish class. I see the wisdom in that. I need to stay here, surrounded by the Havoc crew, under the eyes of the administrators. When I leave, I’m going to have to be very careful that the Thing or the Charter Crew don’t come after me.

By the time sixth period rolls around, I’m soaked in sweat and jittery as I check my phone, waiting for the bell to ring so I can get the hell out of there. First, I’m going to find someone with a somber face and ask to see their mask. Then I’m going to inform them that they’re my escort back to Aaron’s.

Hopefully they have a car. If not, I’ll walk back to my mom’s place, dig up the cash from the backyard and get a taxi.

Get the girls.

Find out how to summon Jennifer Lowell to babysit.

And then, I’ll start making phone calls. I need to figure out where the boys are being held, if they have lawyers yet, what the charges are against them exactly.

It’s going to be a long night.

Also, I’m probably not getting married tomorrow, now am I? Disappointment slithers through me, but I push it aside. Keeping the boys safe and out of prison is my only priority right now.

With only thirty minutes left in class, I decide I’m going to bail. I’ve played along all damn day, and I’m over it. Just as I stand up, the door opens, and a student assistant hands me a pass to summon me to Ms. Keating’s office.

I strongly debate taking off anyway, but then I remember her face. She was truly upset by the situation; she might even be privy to information that I’d struggle to get anywhere else.

Tucking the note into the pocket of my leather jacket, I head down the hall, around the corner and past the dark zone where I beat Kali, and then I slip into the vice principal’s office.

Ms. Keating smiles at me, but it’s a tight smile. I don’t think anything of it, seeing as five of her students were dragged away in handcuffs today.

Stepping forward, I grab the back of one of the chairs in front of her desk, intending to slip into it. I’m distracted by the door opening behind me, and my eyes flick back to see my stepfather, dressed in his uniform and smiling like a reptile.

No.

“Hello Bernadette,” he says, blocking me from the door with his body, hand resting casually on his belt, just a few inches from his gun. Ms. Keating doesn’t look at him with any sort of fondness either, like maybe she can sense how evil he is beneath his average Joe exterior.

“What is he doing here?” I ask her, recognizing that I have at least one ally in this room. My eyes find the locked windows behind Ms. Keating’s desk, and I curse myself for ruining her trust enough that it’s actually handicapping me now. Talk about karma.

“Bernie, sweetie,” Neil says, making my skin crawl as his eyes undress me right there in the VP’s office. He doesn’t care who’s watching because he knows he can get away with it regardless. I hate him. I hate him. I fucking hate him. “You’re not exempt from this little raid today. Actually, the only reason you weren’t dragged out and embarrassed in front of your peers is because I stepped in. I do have to take you to the station though.” He pulls a pair of metal cuffs off of his belt, and my mind goes white with panic.

If he gets me in those cuffs, in his car, I am dead.

I am raped and killed.

I am buried with Pen.

Heather is ruined.

A shudder ripples through me, and I turn back to Keating with every ounce of panic I feel in my blood showing on my face. She notices right away and rises to her feet.

“Please don’t let him take me,” I tell her, slipping my phone from my pocket. I use the speed dial for Aaron’s phone and let it ring. Even if he can’t answer me now, if he sees this later, he’ll know.

“If you’re ever in trouble, Bernie, you just call us. You don’t have to say anything, you just let it ring.”

The Thing steps forward, lightning quick, his reflexes honed in dark alleys and seedy bars. I’m ready for him, spinning to intercept his blow, but he isn’t going for my face like usual. Instead, he smacks my hand and sends my phone flying. It hits the ground with an awful crack as I dart into the corner between Ms. Keating’s bookshelf and the row of windows behind her desk.

Not a great place to make a stand; I’m essentially trapped here, but I have nowhere else to go.

“Mr. Pence,” Ms. Keating says, her voice alarmed, a true fear working its way into her gaze. She knows what she sees here: a black woman and a teenage girl, trapped in a small office with a white male cop. Who is she supposed to call if things go wrong? And yet, I watch her stand up for me anyway. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave and return with either a warrant, or a partner, or preferably both.”

Neil tucks his thumbs into his belt for a moment, nodding his head like he might actually listen to her. But then his elbow flies out and he cracks Ms. Keating in the face. She groans and stumbles back, but even as I move to help her, I know I can’t do shit.

The Thing levels his weapon on Ms. Keating, holding the barrel even with her head as blood streams down her face and she sags back against the windows. At least she’s still conscious. I know firsthand how bad an elbow to the face can hurt. Neil’s, in particular. My eyes dart his way.

“Put the cuffs on,” Neil commands, tossing them onto the floor at my feet. He smiles at me in that way of his, like a gator on the hunt. He’s scented blood, and he sure as shit isn’t going to stop until he tastes meat. “Or I’ll kill this—” I close my eyes against his words, against the rush of emotion. Neil calls Ms. Keating the worst things you can call a person—a cunt, a whore, the n-word—and then he pistol-whips her in the goddamn face. “Now, Bernadette,” he snaps, and my eyes fly open just as Ms. Keating slides to the floor, still moaning, still trying to stand up.

I know my stepfather; this isn’t false bravado.

He feels untouchable.

He feels like he can kill us both and get away with it.

There’s a second there where I weigh my chances of escaping, where I wonder if I could really sacrifice someone like Ms. Keating to save my own ass. I’ve tried in the past to be a good person, but all I got in return was pain. I had to change to meet the challenge of the world, become something different.

But I will not let myself sink to my stepfather’s level.

Ms. Keating has shown me kindness when nobody else would, given me chance after chance after chance to prove myself.

If she dies here because of me, then I’ll find myself sinking through the muck to Neil’s level. That, that would be my true rock bottom.

I clasp the cuff on my right wrist, heart pounding. By putting these cuffs on, I put myself at the mercy of Neil. I put myself in the trust of the Havoc Boys.

“That’s a good girl,” Neil purrs as I hook the other side, now bound before him. But not helpless. Never that. He lowers the gun, but at the last second, turns and starts beating Ms. Keating in the face with it. When I charge him, he swings out and whips me across the cheek, making me bleed and see stars. “Let’s go.”