Hael's honey-colored eyes shift my direction and he licks his lower lip, flexing his tattooed fist around his car keys.

“She has a perfect body,” he agrees, looking from me to Vic, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. Victor just scoffs, flicks his cigarette into the grass, and stands up, heading into the house and leaving the two of us behind. “Fuck,” Hael murmurs, gritting his teeth. “We're in trouble; he's pissed.”

“Why?” I ask, and Hael looks at me like I'm a crazy person. He opens his mouth like he's about to answer me when Aaron pulls into the driveway, and Kara spills out the back door of the van with her cousin in tow.

“Movie night and popcorn!” she yells, pausing next to me and grinning. “Our favorite babysitter is coming over tonight.”

“So I hear,” I say, pretending that I don't feel her brother's eyes on me, taking me in, judging me. I stroke Kara's hair back, the same, wavy silken texture as Aaron's. “Do you mind if Heather joins you guys?” Kara's grin lights up her face as she glances back at Ashley, shyly clinging to Aaron's pant leg.

“She can join. You, too, if you want.”

“I appreciate that,” I say as Aaron picks Ashley up and carries her past me, tearing his gaze away and acting like he doesn't see me standing there. Whatever.

“Ladies first,” Hael mimics, repeating his words from earlier. I turn to find him with his arm out, gesturing for me to head inside. I do, and the normalcy of Aaron's house falls over me like a curtain. There's no tension in these walls, no hate, no ragged screams broken up only by dry wall. No Thing.

“Where are we off to tonight?” I ask Oscar, pausing in the living room as Callum slumps on the couch and orders pizza on his phone app, Aaron disappears upstairs with the girls, and Hael gets himself a beer from the fridge.

“We have too many open business transactions,” he says, looking at me through his black-framed glasses and smiling. Someone with glasses shouldn't look so scary, but Oscar Montauk, well, he manages to pull it off just fine. “We're going to start cleaning things up.”

“I thought you guys preferred to be direct. Isn't that what you said to me on day one? Don't beat around the bush. We really don't like it.”

Oscar lifts a finely curved brow and then reaches up tatted fingers to touch his equally inked up neck.

“Good point. We're going to follow Principal Vaughn and see if Hael's gift has stirred him to action.” Oscar pauses to listen to the girls' giggling upstairs, and then turns to look at me, a smirk curving over his wicked lips. “The flash drive had a few select videos of his cam girls on them, just to remind him that we know all his dirty, little secrets.”

A frown takes over my mouth, and I exhale, memories washing over me. I push them down and let cool, icy numbness seep back into me. I can tell the story, without reliving it. It's a specialty of mine, disconnecting.

“Principal Vaughn is a monster of the worst kind,” I say, thinking about his hand on my knee, rubbing, caressing. “He waited until I was at my lowest before he decided to invite me into his bullshit.”

“What happened, exactly?” Callum asks, looking up from his phone, the light playing across his relatively delicate features. If it weren't for the scars, and the hard muscles in his shoulders and chest, he'd have that pretty, preppy sort of look. “If you don't my asking. Everyone deals with trauma differently. I have a tendency to re-live mine over and over inside my head. Talking about it gets it all out.” His blue eyes flash and he licks his lips, blond hair disheveled from his hood, legs crossed on the velvety couch cushions.

“Well, you all know the beginning of the story,” I say dryly, gesturing in Callum and Hael's general direction, my eyes narrowing. “You guys decided to turn my life into a living hell with Kali Rose's help, and I went to Principal Vaughn to report the bullying.” A dry laugh escapes me, and I run a hand over my face as Aaron comes down the stairs. If he's going to act like I don't exist today, I'll return the favor. I continue with my story, perching on the back of the larger couch. “You assholes did … whatever it is that you do, and my accusations were buried in bullshit. Then my sister died, and …” I trail off, and there's this hitch in my chest that makes it impossible to breathe.

When I think about Pen, I lose myself.

To sadness.

Regret.

Anger.

Rage.

My hands begin to shake as Aaron moves into the living room and offers me a cold beer. I take it and we exchange a wordless look, both of us holding onto our emotions so tight that we may as well be on different continents.

I remember the day Penelope died. I also remember how the bullying stopped. That was the day the Havoc Boys left me alone for good. That is, until I marched up to Victor Channing on the first day of school and called out that word.

Havoc.

They create it.

They revel in it.

They dispense it.

“We threatened Principal Vaughn with photos of him fucking the school nurse in his office. It was a serious enough offense that he buried your report, but not enough to keep him off our asses forever.” Aaron sits down in the burgundy chair between the two couches and sips his beer, his expression distant and focused on the fireplace instead of my face. Callum, Hael, and Oscar, however, are all staring at me.

Victor is nowhere to be seen, but for some reason, I feel like he's listening.

“After Penelope died, I went to see Principal Vaughn—Ms. Keating didn't work at Prescott then or else I would've spoken to her.” I knock back a third of my beer in a single gulp and swipe a tattooed hand over my mouth. “I reported my stepfather for molesting … for raping my sister. And instead of helping me, Vaughn called the Thing and told him everything I'd said. Then he put his hand on my leg and asked me if I wanted to escape.”

My eyes close briefly, and I feel that familiar anger taking over. His hand was so sweaty, almost lukewarm, his tongue sliding over his thin lower lip. Even the look in his eyes was a violation of sorts.

“You don't have to live this life, Bernadette, not if you don't want to. Would you like to escape? To make something of yourself? I know an easy way for a girl like you to make money.”

“I told him I wasn't going to be a prostitute, that I was fully aware that was an option.” I sigh again, and my body just feels so damn heavy … “He mentioned I could work from the safety of his cabin, on camera, that—”

“Enough,” Vic says, appearing from seemingly out of nowhere. He's just suddenly standing near the bottom of the stairs, face dark, features hard. “The Kia Sportage is on the move.”

“Kia Sportage?” I echo as Oscar smiles.

“Vaughn's wife's car,” he says, and then glances my way. “Not the nurse. His actual wife. She's staying in Connecticut with her ailing mother. Meanwhile, her inglorious husband is using her car now that we've blown his up.”

“He's heading for McKenzie Highway. Clearly, he's on his way to the cabin.” Vic’s jaw works in irritation.

“Well, that was fast,” Hael says with a somewhat nervous laugh. He's still stressed about Vic. I meet the eyes of Havoc's leader, and he returns my stare with a stony one of his own. “Do you think he's taking a new girl up there? Or just getting rid of evidence?”

“No clue,” Vic says, pausing as the girls' laughter rings through the house again. I can hear a movie playing, and figure they've started their movie night early. “Let's get Bernadette's sister over here and get ready to go.”

“I'll take Bernadette over to pick her up,” Hael starts, and the whiplash look he gets from Vic makes me stand up and take a small step back.

“Like hell you will. Aaron, take her over there in the minivan and grab that babysitter of yours on the way.”

Aaron stiffens up, but he doesn't argue, setting aside his half-finished beer and rising to his feet.

“Are you pissed at me?” Hael asks, narrowing his eyes, his hand clenching around his bottle. “Because if you are, you can just say it.” He stands up and turns to face Vic, but it doesn't seem like Vic's interested in a conversation. He just brushes his friend off like it's nothing.

“Everybody else, get your shit together. You know the plans for Vaughn.”

“Jesus,” Hael grinds out, but he takes off in the direction of the kitchen and a moment later, I hear the door to the garage opening.

“Let's go,” Aaron says softly, snatching his keys from the hook and heading outside into the crisp autumn air. The red, yellow, and orange leaves remind me that I need to get Heather's costume together. This year, she wants to be some superhero I don't know much about.

As soon as I climb in, Aaron's turning up the radio, his inked hands tight on the steering wheel as he reverses out of the driveway and starts off in the direction of Heather's school. She's gonna be mad at me for picking her up early again. Better than letting her ride the bus home to Mom and the Thing without me there.

Speak of the devil …

My phone bings with a new text message, and I pull it from the pocket of my jacket to check. Sure enough, it's from my mother.

You've been gone enough lately. Come home tonight, and we'll have family dinner with Dad.

I can't seem to control the scowl that takes over my face, gripping my phone so hard I'm afraid the cracked screen is finally going to give up the ghost and snap in half.

“Your mother?” Aaron asks after a moment, and I shrug one shoulder, reaching up to splay my fingers against my forehead. Pink and white-blond hair falls around my face as I try to figure out how to respond.

“She wants to have family dinner. She wants me to sit at a table with a man who raped her daughter.” I lift my face up and look over at Aaron, studying his clenched jaw and tense shoulders. “You should've taken off when you had the chance, gone to live with that grandmother of yours,” he’d said, but doesn't he know that even if I could, that I wouldn't? How can I live a normal life ever again after all the crap I've been through? How can I just move on knowing the monsters that tormented me are still living in the shadows, waiting for fresh prey? Maybe Batman was a 'good guy' because he never killed anybody, but I think he's a pussy. Kill the Joker, save the people. Maybe there are no such things as good guys? Maybe there are only people who put their moral compass above practicality that think they're good guys?