Page 12 of Crew
"Taz!" a voice called suddenly.
And she just got saved from a couple more uncomfortable questions I'd planned to toss her way. I wanted to poke her a bit about Jordan. That'd have to wait, but I could already feel my desire to push back at her fading away.
Seeing that Sunday Barnes hadn't stayed at her locker, I knew my time with Taz was done for the morning.
Sunday approached, wearing her cheerleading uniform, with half her group in tow.
Smoothing a hand down her side, she perched her fist on her hip and smiled widely at us. "Taz, Mrs. Bellacheq said you left the squad this year. I was hoping to talk you into joining again."
Taz and I shared a glance. We both knew I was out, and we moved as one unit.
Taz stepped forward.
I fell back.
Call me unfriendly, but this was how I'd been all my life. I kept to my own, and my own consisted of my crew and Taz. That was it. I'd never played well with other girls, and I had no desire to talk to them. That wasn't a rule--I could talk to whoever I wanted--it was just my preference.
I'd begun to turn and head in the direction Cross had gone when Sunday raised her voice again.
"Bren!" Her voice hitched at the end, and she cleared her throat. Her smile got even wider. "Hey. Hi. You weren't at Alex's party last night."
I stopped, half-turned away from them.
Taz stepped in front of me. "Come on, Sunday. You know full well I left the squad. You've had practice for two weeks by now."
I glanced back, held Sunday's gaze for a moment, then turned and left.
Sunday Barnes tried to talk to me.
I frowned to myself as I moved through the second senior hallway. Other girls, no matter where they were on the social ladder, respected the system. They stayed away from us, but she'd violated that rule. Granted, it was an unspoken rule. There was nothing set in stone, but it bothered me.
What I'd noticed earlier was right. Something was changing this year. The girls seemed braver.
I was halfway down the hallway and could already hear Jordan's voice when a different one cut in. Someone grabbed my arm.
"You didn't show at my party last night!"
And all hell broke loose.
When the hand grabbed my arm, I reacted.
I reached back, took that hand, and flipped around so it twisted backwards. A guy yelled out in pain, but I wasn't listening. I was behind him, still holding onto his wrist, as I slammed him into the locker.
I heard yelling.
People were shoving.
I was only focused on the guy in front of me.
My knife out, I leaned in close, whispering into his ear, "You touch me again, and I'll slice your veins."
I eyed him as I made my threat. This wasn't just a random person who'd reached for me. It was Alex Ryerson, leader of the biggest crew at Roussou High School. He was a stout guy, muscular, but short, and I swear, his attitude was caked on to make up for his height. His round face had wide eyes--a little too close together and sunken in. He turned so he could see me. There was scruff on his face, probably hadn't shaved because of the party last night. I felt the stubble against my arm as I pressed into him a little harder.
Who he was didn't matter to me. No one grabbed me.
I felt hands reach for me, but then they were ripped away. As Alex stilled under my knife, I knew without looking that I had three guys backing me up.
"You touch me again, I'll make you bleed."
