Page 55 of Crew Princess
And after finishing breakfast and getting ready for school, that thought continued to plague me.
I’d been out for blood the night before, my heart racing. We couldn’t have gotten to Jordan fast enough. We needed to get there, save him, then rain damage on those who’d been hurting him. But my brother was right—retaliation hadn’t been the first thing on my mind this morning—and that was just now setting in. Fleeing and then hiding from the police had taken precedence. Then the ER trip. And I kept remembering the last time we’d been to the emergency room, when we took someone in to save his life.
Round and round.
Cross and I were heading out to his truck when he asked, “You okay?”
I nodded as he started the engine. “Yeah. Just having weird thoughts.” I remembered he’d been out of it earlier too. “How about you? You okay?”
He paused, glancing at me before jerking his head in a nod. “Yeah. I’m totally fine.” Then he pulled away from the curb, and I knew one more thing that morning.
Cross was lying.
Cross grinned as we parked at school. “Look. We have a greeting party.”
Taz, Sunday, and Tabatha were all standing on the curb, backpacks on, purses in hand, and the school in their background. Students milled behind them on the sidewalk.
We parked across the lot, and as soon as we got out, the girls headed over to meet us halfway.
“Finally!” Taz exclaimed, skewering us with a heated look. “We’ve been waiting for thirty minutes, and that’s thirty minutes we’ll never get back—”
Tabatha settled a hand on Taz’s shoulder, a calming smile on her face, “She’s had three espressos this morning.”
“But she’s not wrong,” Sunday muttered, turning away from us and glancing across the lot.
Following her gaze, I saw the rest of their friends, including Lila and the other girl from Frisco who had joined Tabatha’s group. Right up in the middle of them were Jordan, Zellman, and a bunch of jocks.
Cross stepped close to me, and I said under my breath, “Why do I feel like we’re being swallowed by the Normals?”
He laughed shortly, his hand grazing mine. “Uh, because we are.” He nodded at the group. “I’m heading over there. The crew needs to plan later.”
I nodded in response. He was right, and so was Channing. The weird arrests aside, heads needed to roll for what they did to Jordan.
“Jordan couldn’t make a fist this morning. He couldn’t brush his teeth this morning. He called me over so I could help him.” Tabatha said as soon as Cross was a few feet away. She swallowed, blinking away a few tears. Her voice grew hoarse. “I have that video burned in my head. I can’t get it out of my mind. I know I’ve believed the crew system is reckless and stupid at times, but my God, if you guys are looking for temporary members, sign me the fuck up.” She stared at me fiercely, her eyes sparking, her chin raised.
Sunday shook her head. “Are you kidding me? Your boyfriend got attacked. Big fucking surprise. He’s in one of the toughest crews here. They’re a walking target. Welcome to my life the last year, constantly worrying about Zellman. And also, get over yourself. Are you forgetting that other thing we all went through? You know.” She stepped closer to Tabatha, crossing her arms. “When we were all arrested, except these guys.” She clipped her head toward Taz and me.
Tabatha exhaled deeply, closing her eyes. She touched her temples, rubbing in a circle before taking a step back. Looking up, she coughed. “I’ve not forgotten. I’m just worried about someone besides myself.” And with that said, she surged forward, getting right into Sunday’s space. “And what is your problem? We all signed the same piece of paper. We all took the same deal. It’s not even a hardship. We were all excited about it anyway—”
“Wait.” I held up a hand. “What are you guys talking about? What deal? What piece of paper?”
Both girls froze and moved apart. Tabatha’s eyes swam with guilt, and Sunday refused to look at me.
Taz asked quietly, “Sunday?”
Sunday looked up.
“We can’t talk about it,” Tabatha said. “No one can talk about it, but trust me. You will find out…” She cut off, her eyes moving over my shoulder.
I was just turning to look when someone cleared their throat.
Mrs. Cooke, the front office secretary, raised a thinly penciled eyebrow. “Miss Monroe, your presence is requested with the principal.”
“When?”
She sniffed, looking down at me with near disdain. “Now.”
Taz laughed as Mrs. Cooke went back inside, walking around the clusters of students as if she were walking through a field of manure. She kept tugging down her suit coat and smoothing her hands over the sides of her skirt.
