“Ivy here had some interesting things to tell us about last weekend,” Mitch says, tossing the basketball into the hoop and fist pumping when he makes the basket. He swaggers over to us like he thinks he's Hael Harbin or something, running his fingers through his dark hair. But he's nowhere near as handsome as any of the Havoc Boys really, or maybe I'm just biased.

“And I give a shit why?” Vic asks, studying the slightly smaller boy. When I look at Victor standing there with his purple-black hair and all that ink swirling down his arms, something strange happens inside my chest. It’s that same damn pang I felt in the bathroom just now. Affection. My lip curls.

“Ivy says you killed Principal Vaughn,” Mitch announces with a smirk. But it's a smirk that doesn't last long. A very dry, very real laugh escapes Vic's throat as he reaches up and plucks the smoke from his lips, flicking it in Mitch's direction.

“We're done here,” he says, turning and heading back for the back entrance of Prescott High.

“Don't you walk away from me,” Mitch snarls, making the mistake of putting his hand on Victor's shoulder.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

That man can move.

In an instant, Victor has Mitch screaming on the pavement, one arm twisted behind Mitch’s back, his knee pressing down on Mitch’s spine.

“Do not fucking touch me,” Victor says, his voice ice-cold, his expression blank but edged with violence. “That's a mistake most people only make once. The only reason you're still breathing is because we're on school grounds. I don't kill people on campus.”

“Help me, you pieces of shit!” Mitch screams at his friends, and surprisingly, they actually come forward to back him up. But as quick as Vic put Mitch on the ground, he releases him and backs up a few steps.

“Now, you listen here. We didn't kill Principal Vaughn, but ask yourselves this: even if we did, is that something you want to keep talking about?” The way Victor stares them down, it's not hard to see that he's making a very real threat.

“We'll call the fucking cops!” Mitch screams back, and only Kyler and Logan keep him from making the worst mistake of his life by rushing Vic.

“With twenty grand in product sitting your trailer?” Oscar asks, lifting up his iPad and showing off a photo I've never seen before. There are bags full of white powder stacked near a table with a scale. It's not hard to figure out what that is. “I doubt it.”

“But Ivy, that big mouth of yours,” Vic says with another dry laugh, shaking his head and wagging a finger at her. “That shit is gonna get you in loads of trouble, sweetie.”

“Screw you!” Ivy yells, stepping forward and wrapping her hands around Danny’s arm. Great. So she's shacking up with one of the Ensbrook brothers now? “I know what I saw that night.”

“You also know you've been spending Vaughn's cash and charging up his credit cards,” Hael growls out, giving me a look and leaning in close to whisper. “Bet you regret being nice to that bitch now, huh?”

“No act of kindness goes unpunished,” I reply, watching Ivy carefully. She's such a damn gossip. How did I ever think letting her go would lead to anything but this? In the past, it wouldn't have been a problem because she would've been too scared of Havoc to open that big mouth of hers. But now that she's got the Ensbrooks to hide behind?

“I've got class,” Vic says, turning away again. “And I don't have time for this shit today. You want to play games with us, Charter, you come find us at Stacey's party.”

“We'll fucking be there!” Kali screams out, dressed in a tight green dress with gold glitter on it. It's tacky as hell, but I'm not surprised. Pretty sure Kali's under the delusion that she looks nice.

“Should we be worried?” Aaron asks as we head inside, but Vic shakes his head.

“About Mitch and crew? You're joking, right?” Victor pauses as the double doors swing shut behind us, and then he turns to me, putting his big hands on either side of my face. When he kisses me, I'm too shocked to have much of a reaction. His tongue sweeps my lower lip and then dives in, consuming me, claiming me. And right there in front of all the Havoc Boys and …

“Ahem, Mr. Channing, Ms. Blackbird,” Ms. Keating says, clearing her throat. Vic chuckles and releases me, glancing over at the vice principal in her black skirt suit. “Do we all have classes we should be attending?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Vic says, sliding his inked fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “I was just giving my girl a see you later kiss.”

“Right,” Ms. Keating says, giving me a sideways look. “Off you go, all of you.”

We all scatter our separate ways, but as I'm reaching for the door to the gym, Ms. Keating stops me.

“Bernadette, do you have a moment?” she asks, and I shrug. I'd rather get an excused absence from P.E. than have to stand around and pretend like I give a fuck about volleyball. I follow the vice principal into her neat, tidy little office. The walls are covered with inspirational posters that say things like Shoot for the Moon—If You Miss, You’ll Land Among the Stars!

Huh.

Starry-eyed millennial bullshit.

I’m a realist, through and through. That crap doesn’t work on me. The world is not an endless feast of exploration, discovery, and joy. Not for me it isn’t.

“Well?” I ask, cocking a brow and leaning back in the chair. “You definitely didn’t call me in here to discuss my stellar grades, and all the scholarship opportunities coming my way, so what’s up?”

“Bernadette,” Ms. Keating says with a sigh, folding her dark-skinned hands together, her nails painted a cheery yellow this week. Her brown eyes bore into me, but I just stare straight back at her. She’s a good woman, but her cheery optimism and strong conviction would be better spent elsewhere, perhaps on younger kids who still have hope for the future. Those of us at Prescott … well, it’s just too late for us. Ms. Keating is wasting her time. “I’ve noticed you’ve started dating Victor Channing?”

It’s cute that she phrases her statement as a question when we both know she just caught him grinding all over me in the hallway.

With a sharp smile, I lift up my left hand and flash the ring.

“We’re engaged, haven’t you heard? The gossip mill at Prescott usually runs pretty hot.” I drop my hand again and shrug, just another blasé student the vice principal will have to deal with this week. I don’t want her paying anymore attention to me than that. “Is that what you brought me in here to talk about?” I lean forward, tapping my dark nails on the surface of her desk. The color I’ve painted them is called Lethal by Urban Decay. Pretty sure they discontinued the shade, but I have two full bottles, so that should last me a while.

“I’ve heard from other students what happened here during your sophomore year,” she says, and I feel my shoulders get tight. The expression on my face stays bored and uninterested. At least, I hope it does. “Those boys are bullies, Bernadette. In fact, I’d go so far as to say they’re a gang.”

I just stare back at her. She doesn’t just think they’re a gang, she knows, but she’s trying to be gentle with me. Why, I can’t possibly understand. “With Principal Vaughn missing, I’ve been asked to temporarily fill his position. Some of the things I found in his office were concerning …”

My heart begins to pound, but it’s too late. It’s too late for some well-meaning teacher to step in and try to undo all the hurt and damage and hate. I went to the administration for help; I still believed in the system. Well, guess what? The system fucked me. It’s over now. I’ve thrown the good girl towel in. What was it that Callum said? About surrendering to the dark? That it makes life easier?

“Whatever you found, it doesn’t matter,” I say, feeling the room shrink around me. It’s suffocating in here. Maybe I rather would be in PE?

“Bernadette, you approached Principal Vaughn with allegations of bullying, and he did nothing but bury your report. I found your statement in a file box under his desk, along with other items indicating … what do they call themselves?”

“Havoc,” I whisper, putting my hands on the knees of my leather pants and picking at the slick fabric with my nails. “The Havoc Boys.”

“Right, clever acronym. Havoc.” Ms. Keating sighs, and shakes her head for a moment, her colorful earrings swinging. “Well, the Havoc Boys are not, how should I put this, particularly savory characters. You can do so much better, Bernadette. You can be so much better.”

I stand up suddenly, the chair skidding on the old carpet beneath my heels.

“Is this the part where you give me a trophy for trying my best?” I say, cocking a brow and knowing I’m essentially spitting in the face of someone who’s been nothing but nice to me. But I’ve had people be ‘nice’ before, and then turn around and destroy my life, people like Principal Vaughn and Donald Asher, my foster brother, that social worker …

“Bernadette …” Ms. Keating starts as I begin to cough, hacking and choking and leaning on the edge of her desk in an Oscar-worthy performance. “Do you need some water?” she asks me, standing up and rubbing my back in a small circle with her hand. “I’ll get you some water.”

She grabs a plastic cup off a stack on the sideboard and pops into the hallway to fill it from the fountain. We hardly have anything as fancy as water bottles or coolers here at Prescott.

While Ms. Keating’s in the hall, I move around the edge of her desk and grab the box. The window’s open, and it’s big enough for me to slip right out of.

Before she’s even finished filling the cup, I’m sprinting down the length of the building and around the corner, heading toward the basketball courts and the hole in the fence. I manage to slip through unseen, but I don’t stop running until I’m standing next to Hael’s car.