Mr. Perkins looks from me to the guys and rushes my way.
“Ms. Carver,” he draws out. “Everything all right?”
“Everything is grand.” I give a big, bogus smile.
He doesn’t believe me but accepts the lie and turns to the trio.
“Boys,” he spits. “Why don’t you ... go get yourselves some food. I’ll make sure Raven here finds what she needs.”
There’s a bit of a stare-off happening between the four, but it’s the big man who speaks up first. “Why don’t you kiss my ass and go back to your office where you belong?”
My eyes widen and I fight a grin, but these boys aren’t smiling.
It’s clear, they don’t respect the man.
“I need to speak with my new student,” he growls their way.
With cocky smirks in place, they back away with heads held high, letting him and everyone else around know who’s in charge.
I’m guessing they’re all already aware, but regularity and all that.
With a swallow, the principal turns back to me. “I may have neglected to mention the trouble here.”
“I can handle it.”
“But you shouldn’t have to.” He steps closer, a glaze I’m far too familiar with lighting up his eyes. Some call it compassion, I call it manipulation. He wants me to think he’s a caring, open door for me to seek out should I need a helping hand. A perception confirmed when he speaks again. “If you need anything, anything at all, or if they bother you ... just let me know.”
Yeah, I bet you’d be all too willing to meet my every need.
I don’t bother hiding my eye roll or disgust as I step around, completely ignoring his fake fretfulness. I head for the doors leading outside, but before I can step through, my eyes catch a pair of olive ones openly studying me in the wings.
He holds my gaze, his full of a burning curiosity that only breaks when someone yanks the door open from the other side.
I don’t look back, finally making my exit into the crisp air.
I run through what just happened, knowing one thing for sure. The principal’s a sleaze. His words were simple, but his eyes were gelled with want.
I’m not surprised, most males in a power position are. I swear, there’s no such thing as an honest, flat out ‘good’ man.
So quickly roped in by desire, they’re willing to throw all morals out the window, and in the end, take what they want. I, for one, won’t roll over.
And as far as these boys go, if they think I’m at their disposal, they’ve got another thing coming.
Raven, that’s her name.
Ripped jeans and a tank that wouldn’t fit my bicep, her figure’s on full display. A full grip of tits, a nice fat ass, naturally earned, and hair that about teases the curve of her hips. It’s as black as her name, a deep dark raven in color.
Her skin’s a pale, milky white, lips a deep pink but free of fake color. And with eyes a stormy grey, she’s more than a fucking wet dream – she’s a porn star come to life.
She’s like a real-life Snow White, only better. More hair to pull on.
Fucking trouble.
Like we know everything that happens around here, we knew she was coming, but I sure as fuck didn’t expect a temptress in Timberlands.
I look to the side finding both Royce and Captain staring after her, and it’s confirmed. She’ll be a problem.
We don’t have room for problems. Especially not the kind involving pussy.
She’ll need to be put in check, and quick.
Cops. Awesome.
Three of them, a K-9 unit even, line the curb nearest the female Bray house.
I can tell the others walking toward the house are on edge, and I get it.
Like them, my stomach muscles used to tighten at the sight of every black and white patrol car, but not anymore. After a while, it was almost a sense of reprieve, knowing they were likely there for my mom’s patrons if not her herself. Usually meant a solid forty-eight hours without dread, but never more than that.
More times than not, I thought about running off. Technically, I could have at any moment and dear mother never would have looked, but I don’t have an ID, let alone a license, and I need it to find work anywhere other than a strip club or dive bar. And with a mother who doesn’t hold on to shit, I have no birth certificate or social security card to even attempt to get my own.
But it’s whatever. One day, I’ll turn and never look back. Seems far, but it’ll be so worth it when it comes.
I shake off the pathetic poor me thoughts as I reach the porch, but before I can step up, Maybell rushes out the screen door right.
She holds it open for the male officer as he fights to get a girl, can’t remember her name, out the door. She kicks and flings herself around, forcing him to grip her upper arms as she has a fit.
Nira, the girl I walked here with that first day, steps up beside me.
“Not surprised. Knew she wouldn’t last,” she mutters.
“How long’s she been here?”
“Couple weeks, but she ditches school all the time and someone said they saw her stealing Maybell’s smokes. But she put hands on Victoria today, so she’s good as gone.”
“Victoria?”
“Do you even try to fit in here?”
I glare at her. “No. I don’t. Why would I?”
She shakes her head, both our gazes following the officer as he attempts to get the girl in the back seat. “Victoria’s my bunkmate. The bitchy blonde that walks around the house with a chip on her shoulder? Been here longer than any of us, supposedly.”
“Oh.”
She scoffs as she walks away. “At least pretend to be interested, Rae. We’re better your friends than your enemies.”
Friends. Right.
‘Cause befriending a handful of girls who have problems the rest of the world pretends don’t exist sounds like a good fucking time.
No. I can’t afford fake friends and I’m not shopping for real ones, should those exist.
The fact of the matter is, in the end, the only way to walk away ... is to make sure there’s nothing you’re reluctant to leave behind.
To feel is to follow.
And I’ll pave my path along no one’s steps but my own.
“Come on now, Rae. Time for chores.” Maybell waves me inside, but I glance at the girl in the back seat of the car, wondering what her story is, where she came from and what haunts her at night.
Then she flips me off so I do the same, rubbing my middle finger across my tongue with a smile and she grins back but turns away to try and hide it.
I laugh lightly and head inside.
Fucked up kids understand each other, it’s the ones who pretend all’s good who don’t mix.
I toss my sweater on the bed and head for the chore list, finding I’ve got trash today. I make my way through the house, collecting the garbage and head out the back to the small dump bin, finding one of the guys in front of the boys’ Bray house also headed straight for it.
“‘Sup, newbie.” He grins.
I look him up and down. Cute, but too skinny and not naturally. Clearly, the house isn’t drug testing, boy’s on one.
“Not a damn thing, on dump duty, same as you, it seems.”
He nods, looking back to the house where a guy with long hair, maybe early thirties and built like a lineman taps his wrist and nods his chin.