Crew Read online

"You told that inanimate object," I said as I approached. "It knows who's boss now."

  "Second day of school, and already I got too much shit in my locker." Zellman nodded at me, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

  "Hey." Jordan lifted his chin in greeting, leaning against his neighbor's locker. "Heard you got sent to the counselor's office this morning. How was that?"

  I shrugged. "How it always is. A waste of time. I feel like I'm finally back to school now."

  Zellman grinned at me. Then his locker popped open again.

  "OH MY FUCKING GOD!" He slammed it shut and began beating on it. "STAY." Kick. "SHUT." Punch. "YOU." A second punch. "MOTHER." His elbow, a heel kick added. "FUCKER!" He braced himself on both sides of his locker and bent over.

  I moved forward. Jordan straightened, and we both began to reach for him.

  I thought he'd go for the head butt, but after a moment he seemed to think better of it. He used his fists like he was doing a boxing speed drill.

  "Fucking locker!" He gave it one last kick.

  It sprang open again, clipping his foot in the process.

  "AHHH!"

  "Mr. Greenley!"

  The students in the hallway parted, and Principal Neeon strode forward. How we'd missed him coming, I had no idea. He stopped right in front of us, folding his arms over his chest. The movement lifted his suit jacket. I was impressed he was still wearing his tie.

  "You are damaging school property. You need to stop." He spoke clearly, as if we were children. He turned to me. "And Miss Monroe. Why do I have a feeling we're off to a very bad start for the year?"

  "You didn't have to take me to The Badger."

  "It was either her office or mine. Did I get it wrong?"

  Zellman cut in, pointing to his locker. "It won't close, Mr. N."

  "It's Neeon, not N. And it's because you have too much stuff inside."

  "It's my locker. I have my necessities in there."

  "Well, some of your necessities need to be moved elsewhere."

  Zellman glowered, grumbling, "That doesn't help." His head popped up. "Can I have another locker? There's gotta be an empty spare somewhere."

  "No."

  "Come on, Mr. N--eeon. Mr. Neeon."

  "What's going on?"

  I looked over my shoulder. Cross had appeared, his hair a little messed.

  I gestured to Zellman's locker. "It won't close. Z's trying to commit murder on it, and Mr. N's not having it."

  "I am not Mr. N." He straightened to his full six-feet and three inches and looked down his nose at us, literally. Except Jordan. "It is Neeon. You will call me either Mr. Neeon, or Principal Neeon, or just principal. You got that, Miss Monroe?" He included Zellman in his withering look.

  I shrugged. "How about Mr. P? P for principal?" I read the big NO coming and amended it. "Prince? That's not a bad name. You like the color purple, Mr. N?"

  "I went over your name choices--"

  Race spoke up as he joined the group. "I'd take Prince, because if you don't jump on it, they'll shorten it to Prick."

  Principal Neeon opened his mouth, but just let out a large gust of air. "Fine. I'll go with Mr. N." He pointed to Zellman. "Stop beating on your locker." He turned to me. "And you, stop skipping classes. You have one year left. I'd like you to graduate."

  Zellman smiled, lighting up his face. "You don't have to worry about Bren. Don't you know by now, Mr. N? She's brilliant. She got Bs last year and skipped almost all of her classes."

  "Zellman!"

  Jordan let out a frustrated sigh, smacking the back of Zellman's head with his palm. Mr. Neeon looked at me, but he looked back at Zellman when he heard him yelp. By then he only saw Zellman rubbing the back of his head and Jordan yawning, scratching the back of his neck.

  "Man, my neck is itching. There's not a case of fleas in the school, is there?"

  Our principal pinched his nose, closing his eyes a moment. "I am pretending I didn't hear that, because if I did, and it was a true complaint, I would have to allocate money from the budget to test for fleas in this school. So..." He held his hands up, palms facing us. "I am backing away." He did.

  "Hey!"

  He bumped into Monica and Sunday.

  "Sorry, ladies."

  He was gone after that.

  Zellman waited until Principal Neeon was almost to the end of the hallway before kicking his locker shut again.

  It stayed this time.

  Race shook his head. "No one can say you guys aren't interesting. That's for sure."

  Monica and Sunday took a step forward, easy grins on their faces.

  Jordan narrowed his eyes, the amusement over Zellman's locker fiasco gone. "You looking to join, Race? Is that why you're hanging around us every chance you get?"

  Monica and Sunday retreated backwards0.

  Race's eyes narrowed. "I helped you guys last night."

  "We didn't ask for it."

  "Didn't need it either," Zellman added.

  Race didn't seem to care. "You think Alex apologized out of the goodness of his heart? Or I'm sorry--would you rather have waged a full-blown crew war?"

  "Alex knew he was wrong," Jordan said.

  "You think he came to that conclusion on his own?" Race stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You think he's that smart?"

  He had a point.

  Cross, Jordan, and Zellman knew it too.

  "Look." Jordan moved to face Race directly. "What do you want? You're around the crew a lot. Either you want in--and if you do, that shit doesn't happen overnight--or there's another reason." He glanced to me. "I figure we got something else you want."

  Uh, what?

  I froze a moment, looking from Jordan to Race. There were no elaborations or denials, and a full boost of heat warmed my body. I felt everyone's gaze on me--Cross especially--but no one said anything.

  So I did. I shook my head. "No. I already dated one Ryerson."

  Race spoke as if I hadn't said a word. "Maybe. I can't deny that could be part of it."

  I closed my eyes, sucking in some air.

  What was this guy doing? Was he for real?

  I felt Cross' gaze on me, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I didn't want to see whatever was there--disappointment, or something worse. An image of how he'd looked at me last night, before he took his shirt off, flashed in my memory. That tickling/tingling was coming back.

  I held my hands up. "I'm out." I jerked my head in Race's direction. "He's fucking with you all."

  I pushed past Cross, then past Monica and Sunday, who seemed entranced where they stood behind us.

  I could feel myself breaking out in hives. I didn't want a Drake 2.0 situation.

  Taz must've seen me leaving, and I was shoving through the doors to the parking lot when I heard her voice behind me.

  "Hey! Bren! Hey."

  I was going to ignore her, then remembered Cross had driven us to school that morning.

  "You move fast. Wow." Taz was a little out of breath when she caught up to me. Bracing a hand on my arm, she waited until her breathing evened out, then gave me a rueful look. "I was head cheerleader last year, and now I can't catch up to you walking down the hallway." She placed her hand on her hip. "My, how the mighty have fallen."

  "You were the head cheerleader?"

  "No." She waved in the air, twirling her wrist. "I added it for dramatic effect. Thought it sounded funnier." She waited, watching me.

  I wasn't laughing.

  "Huh. I must've been wrong."

  I pointed to Cross' truck. "I need a ride home."

  "Oh." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "I'm sure Cross will be coming in a bit."

  Not the point. I went through the names I could call to give me a ride. Channing. Heather.

  So, yeah.

  The real question: wait for Cross? Or walk on my own? Normally, a walk was fine, but I wasn't feeling it with the heat today. The sun was blaring too much, so I had no choice.

  I plopped down on the curb, a
nd Taz sat with me. The last of lingering students headed past us, but there'd be another wave coming out in twenty minutes as the athletes went to the football field, tennis courts, track, and volleyball courts.

  "Um..." Taz hugged her bag on her lap. "I have to prepare you for something."

  "What?" I looked over. "Don't you have practice too? Didn't you join the squad again?"

  "What?" She frowned at me. "Oh. No. I was just helping them out with some things yesterday. You know, because I was one of the managers last year, but no. Nope. I'm not on the squad anymore." She crossed her arms, or tried. The bag got in her way.

  I eyed her bag. "You have a slight hoarding problem."

  She looked down. "Huh?"

  The bag was bulging. She'd brought more stuff to her locker the first day than Zellman could stuff into his locker.

  "I'm just saying. It's starting early," I told her.

  "What's starting early?"

  "You need a hoarder's prevention treatment plan." I winced, hearing myself. I'd started it as a joke, but now I'd channeled The Badger. Lame.

  "Oh." Taz laughed, waving me off. "I get that from our mom. Cross gets the other gene from our dad. He hates having anything extra. If he could do without his bed and desk in his room, he would." She raised her hands, trying to reach around her bag again. She failed. Again. Finally she leaned back, her hands propping her up from behind her. "But back to the cheerleading squad. They'd like me to join. Sunday wants to be the bully, but not do any of the actual work. I'm not going to take her crap this year. Some of the girls want me to join to help contain her, but they're on their own. They gotta stand on their own two feet. They can do it. They'll have a good base."

  I eyed her with a sideways glance. And she said Cross and I had our own language.

  "Yeah." She gave a quick shake of her head. "No way, but um...okay. So, speaking of Sunday..."

  She looked like she was preparing for a formal interview. "Sunday is going to approach you today to apologize, and Monica is going to ask if there's anything going on with you and Cross." She grimaced, waiting for my reaction. "Can you not..." Her face pinked and her lips mashed together. "...beat them up when they do?"

  I grinned. "So much for not taking her crap."

  Her face went from pink to red. "This is different. That's different. I'm trying to prevent a full-out war. There'll only be one victim in all of that. Me." She pointed to herself, shaking her head. "You'll be protected by your guys, and Sunday will hide behind the squad. Me. I'm in the middle. So, for me... Don't?"

  When she put it like that, I felt bad about the orange juice. "You don't want me to beat them up?"

  "No!" She twirled her hands in the air. "Or pour things on them? Sunday doesn't know the tire thing was you, but if you do it again, she'll figure it out. She thought some criminals from Frisco must've been at Manny's."

  And the irony of all was that she's from Roussou, thinking that.

  Taz sat back up, picking at the end of her shirt. "They're trying to be real with you. Because that's how you like it. Real. No fake shit. They're scared, but they're going to try it your way."

  It should have bothered me to hear people were scared to talk to me.

  It didn't. I felt satisfaction. It was a perfected coping mechanism--scare 'em right away and not have to deal with them later. I felt myself smiling. Maybe Z was right. I was brilliant.

  I started laughing.

  Taz had been talking. "What? What's funny?"

  "Nothing. I was laughing at myself. And I'll be nice, as long as they're nice." And as long as Taz didn't get hurt in the middle.

  "They will be." She bobbed her head up and down. "I promise." Her shoulders relaxed. "I was so nervous to ask you about that, but I think Sunday forgot how fierce you can be. Dumping the orange juice on her, then starting a whole crew brawl in front of her--that helped her remember. I think she got lax this summer, because she didn't see you. She forgot she's not number one on the female alpha list, if you know what I mean. I mean, she is on the cheerleading squad, but outside of the crew system, there are other girls more popular than her--like Tabatha Sweets. But Sunday's domain is the squad. Tabatha's is the whole school, not the crew part of the school."

  The door opened behind us halfway through Taz's statement, and someone had stopped there. I waited for them to pass us by. When they didn't, I looked back.

  It was Sunday, with Monica coming through the door behind her.

  Taz turned too, jumping to her feet. "Sunday! I--"

  "You can't cover what you just said. I heard you." Hurt flared in her eyes, and she looked at me. "I was coming to apologize to you. I had no clue you heard me, but it doesn't matter. Spreading rumors about you and being catty wouldn't have been right. I'm sorry I was even thinking about it."

  I nodded. As problems went, she was the least of mine.

  But she wasn't done.

  She turned to Taz again. "I--what you said really hurt, Taz."

  "Is it a lie?" I asked.

  All three of their heads swiveled to look at me.

  "Is it a lie? Or is it true?"

  Taz looked down.

  Monica's eyes widened, and her lips pressed together.

  Sunday was fixed on me, her face resembling an owl. Big wide eyes. Small mouth, lips pressed together almost in a snarl.

  That gave me the answer. "It hurts because it's true." I nodded toward Taz. "You can't get mad at her for being honest. You do shitty things to people. It's a fact. You're not doing shitty things to me because I scare you. That's the truth, right?"

  No answer. Her neck was reddening, and the color was moving up. The girl was pissed, but she looked down, and a soft "Yes" came out.

  "It should hurt, but be mad at yourself, not her."

  "Sunday, I--" Taz began.

  "Don't apologize." I was trying to be gentle here, but if Taz wanted to stop taking her shit, this was a time to stand up and base her feet. Or whatever she'd said. "You were being honest."

  Steam could've been coming out of Sunday's ears.

  Taz's eyebrows lifted. "But I wasn't sensitive. You can be honest, but you have to be sensitive." She said the last bit to her friend/enemy. "I'll be more sensitive. I'm sorry, Sunday."

  For fuck's sake.

  This was why I didn't have female friends, except for Taz. Either I didn't know how to be sensitive or I didn't speak that language. If that's how female friends had to be with each other, I didn't know if I'd ever have one.

  I knew Taz would say she was being nice, but she looked like she was kissing Sunday's feet. And as the red coloring left her face and a smirk flared, I knew Sunday thought the same. In her head, in her group, she had won just now.

  The door opened again, and Jordan, Zellman, and Cross came out.

  I almost sagged in relief. The school gods must've heard me.

  "And that's my cue to go," I announced.

  The guys saw me as they went out to the parking lot, and they lingered a few feet away, waiting.

  I started for them, then remembered what Taz had said, and I wheeled back around to Monica. "Taz said you wanted to ask about me and Cross."

  I could feel him watching me.

  "He's my best friend," I told her. "That's all that's going on, so it's up to you whether you're secure enough to handle that. That's your problem. Don't make it mine."

  Taz let out a short laugh as I caught up to Cross and the guys.

  Zellman glanced back at the girls as we headed to Cross' truck. "What's going on there?"

  "They're clearing the air."

  "You okay with them now?" Jordan asked, his finger waving from me to them. "Can we get with them again?"

  I nodded. "For now, I guess."

  Zellman's eyes got big, but he didn't say anything. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders forward. "So what's the plan for hanging out?" Zellman's cheeks bulged out. He was refraining himself. "Jordan's or somewhere else?"

  Jordan's lips twitched, so did Cro
ss's. We could all see the struggle. Z just got the green light to get some Boobs, but it was crew time right now apparently.

  "I'm down for whatever," I said. "I just have to have dinner with my brother at seven, wherever he's at."

  "Dinner with your brother?" Cross asked. "That's the debt Alex can't pay off?"

  "Yep. Which sucks."

  "We could dress him up to look like a girl," Zellman offered.

  Alex was probably a hundred and fifty pounds heavier than me. "You're right. Channing would be fooled. Let's do it."

  Zellman frowned. "I wasn't joking. You guys always laugh at my suggestions."

  "The dinner just you and your brother?" Cross asked, eyeing Zellman.

  So was I, but I replied, "You want to come? He said I could bring anyone with me."

  "Fuck." Jordan's eyes flashed with anticipation. "Dinner with Channing Monroe. I know he's your brother, but man. That'd be awesome. I'm in."

  "Great game plan." I pointed at them. "You guys talk so much, I won't have to. Best family dinner ever."

  Cross grinned. "It is just for one night?"

  "It's up for debate." It wasn't. But I needed a plan to get out of the others.

  "What are we doing today?" Jordan asked.

  Zellman shot his hand into the air. "I'm right here, and you're ignoring me."

  I knew what he'd love. "How about cliff diving, Z? You up for it?"

  He wavered. I saw the fight on his face, until he melted. "It's like you get me, Bren." He pressed a fist over his chest. "Right here."

  That's what crew did.

  "Bren!"

  Taz yelled my name after third period that Friday, hurrying through the crowd. I'd just left the bathroom, but I needed to stop at my locker before the next class.

  "What's up?" I asked once she got to my side. She looked well rested, so I added, "I take it you didn't partake in the partying last night?"

  She laughed, shaking her head.

  After the early hiccup, the week had passed without any big events. I'd been a good sister. I'd had dinner with Channing every night. I took all the guys to that first dinner on Tuesday, but Channing had stopped it after that. He hadn't enjoyed the twenty-thousand questions Jordan and Zellman had asked him about the crew system and how he'd started it. So the last two dinners had been me, him, and a whole lot of awkward silence.

  I think he was reconsidering letting me bring the guys again, but we were done with dinners until Sunday night. He'd amended our agreement, saying he understood if I had social or crew events happening this weekend. That was really code for him having things going on, but I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I'd agreed wholeheartedly.