Page 9 of Crew
The hallway was full with people, but once we stepped inside, a nice clear path appeared for us. That's what happened for anyone in a crew. People thought we were gangs. We weren't. I hated gangs. If it was that situation, I wouldn't be in. So, no. We weren't gangs--there was no hazing ritual, and we weren't in until we decided to risk limb and life to get out. No one told me what to do, not unless I backed them up, and if it was a situation where I didn't want to back up my guys, that was a whole other problem that needed to be dealt with. We took care of our own, and unlike normal friendships, we went to bat for each other. Sometimes literally. That was the basic rule of being in a crew: you backed each other up. No matter what. Now, I couldn't say our case was the same for the others. Some were more official. They had auditions, a whole application process, but some just happened naturally.
Those were the best kind.
That's how we had come to be.
Jordan, Zellman, Cross, and me. We were known as the Wolves, though we didn't have an official name. There were no T-shirts or secret handshakes. Our crew had formed over several years because of a couple key events. The first was in sixth grade when Zellman was being bullied. Jordan had waded in. He'd thrown kids out of the way and given the bully a couple black eyes. Hence Zellman's loyalty to Jordan.
The next time was at the end of seventh grade.
A guy tried to creep up on me behind school one day. I fought back, but he had friends. What could've happened, I didn't like to think about.
Cross and I had been friends since Amy Pundrie called me fat in third grade, and Cross told her she was Amy Pigdrie instead. He'd kept calling her that until he got in trouble in fourth grade and was sent to the principal. He only whispered the name after that, and it got shortened to Amy Piggy. Once I hit puberty and realized what it meant to be a girl, I told him to knock it off with the weight-related name-calling. He hadn't uttered a word about it since, but he still gave her the side-eye sometimes.
Anyway, Cross had shown up the day the creeper was after me, and Jordan and Zellman had shown up too.
Cross took out the guys from the left.
Jordan and Zellman took out the guys from the right.
I returned the favor a few months later when a guy tried to knife Jordan in a fight. I showed up, grabbed the knife, and slammed it into his side. I wasn't one to throw punches, but people learned to be wary of me when I pulled out a knife. My throwing skills were decent, better than most normal people, but my talent lay in the slicing and dicing motion.
There were other crews that were bigger than ours, but we were the most feared. There was a reason for that.
"You already know your locker and schedule?" Cross asked.
I nodded, heading to my locker. "Unlike you, I showed up for registration last week. Fancy that, me being the good student."
A few girls were already looking at him. I was somewhat surprised he wasn't already gone, getting his dick wet, but it was the first day of the year. He wouldn't be leaving my side or Jordan and Zellman's, not unless he was forced away.
He groaned, resting his back against the locker beside mine. "Something tells me it won't last."
I grinned, turning the lock until the door opened. Then I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket. I stowed my bag inside and brandished the paper in the air. "Good thing I got your info too."
He snatched it. "Ah! I love you."
"What?" an irritated voice exclaimed behind us. "There's no crew coupling. Or at least there isn't in yours."
Cross and I shared a look as he turned around.
"Hey, twin sister."
Tasmin, who answered only to Taz, beamed up at him. Like Cross, she was naturally tan, with the same tawny hazel eyes and golden blonde hair. Even their lean builds were the same. Cross just had broad shoulders, while Taz was petite. Her hair fell to her waist, and today she'd braided one side along her skull, all the way to the ends.
She was gorgeous, just like her brother.
And while she wasn't in our crew, she was as close as possible. Cross was protective, keeping her away from the violence, and she also didn't like the system. She didn't understand it.
"Hey, twin brother!" She waved a finger between us. "Is this the reason I saw Monica crying at the end of the hall?"
He looked.
I sighed. "I knew it."
He turned back, frowning. "I never answered your question last night."
"So you two were together last night?" Taz's tone was accusing.
Cross cringed.
