Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(52)

“Mm. Quid pro quo, I guess. We killed Danny, so they killed one of our boys. That makes us even, and I won’t play at that game. A bunch of fucking copycats aren’t going to roll into my turf and disrespect me.”

“What about Ivy Hightower?” Aaron asks from the driver’s seat, and it’s Oscar who replies from behind me.

“Hard to say. I don’t think the Charter Crew would kill Danny’s girlfriend, and someone who was a loyal gossip for them. Likely, Bernadette is right about her stepfather being the killer. The part I’m having trouble figuring out is why Ivy’s death happened the same night our boys went missing. We now know for a fact that it was the Charter Crew who took them. We also know that Kali was fucking Neil. I just need more time to figure out how and why they’re connected.”

“If we factor in my ideas about Kali and David, then I think we’re really getting somewhere,” I add. I don’t even bother to turn around to see Oscar’s reaction. I can feel it. “Because if Kali was willing to seek out a guy I hooked up with at a party, then why not see what’s up with my stepdad, too?”

Oscar makes a sound of annoyance as Callum grins at me.

“Far-reaching, Bernadette. You like to make jumps of logic; I prefer facts.” Oscar’s voice is ice-cold, but I ignore him. He, on the other hand, is very likely staring at the back of my neck; I can feel his gaze like a blast of freezing wind against my nape.

“Alright, kids,” Hael says on the tail-end of a yawn. “Calm your tits. One problem at a time, okay?” He stretches his arms above his head and his hoodie rides up a bit in the front, showing off that flat belly of his. I wet my lips. I’m a little nervous for our excursion, but on the inside, I’m freaking out like a little girl.

I’ve been fantasizing about the Havoc Boys for years. And now, I get to explore every nook and cranny, every dark crevice of their souls. Well, that is, for the boys who actually have souls. I’m not entirely certain that Oscar does.

“Hey Bernie,” Aaron says after a moment of silence. Music trickles softly from the speakers, but nobody’s paying any attention to it. “Do you want to go to the winter formal with me?”

The question comes out of left field, and my head snaps up, lips parting in surprise.

“The winter formal?” I ask, because in all the excitement of joining Havoc I’d totally forgotten that we were all seniors in high school. Jesus. “You want to go to that?”

“We can’t skip Snow Day,” Hael says with a bemused chuckle. “It’s iconic, and this is our last year. Besides, this is a beautiful opportunity to remind every idiot in that fucking school that those hallways belong to us.”

“These fucking streets belong to us,” Victor snorts, pulling on his mask. He looks back at us, and I shiver at the sight of his beautiful face behind the monstrous beauty of the skeleton visage. “But you’re right: it never hurts to remind the populace.”

“So will you?” Aaron asks, looking up and finding my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Go with me, that is?”

My heart flutters and sparkles which is just stupid as hell because I’m not a fluttery or sparkly sort of person. More like a cactus. With big, motherfucking spikes.

“As long as Callum gives me a few dance lessons before then,” I say with a nervous laugh. Both Hael and Vic pick up on it and give me a matching set of looks. I think what I have with Aaron makes them all nervous. It’s hard to match up to first love, isn’t it?

“Deal,” Cal whispers huskily against my ear. This time, he isn’t shy when he leans forward and captures my hand in his, running his tongue up the side of my throat. I shiver as he laughs and Hael leans over to smack him with his mask.

“Stay focused, dipshit, we’re almost there,” Hael says, putting his own mask on. Aaron does the same, and when I look back, I see that Oscar’s face is already covered. He isn’t wearing his glasses either, but I see a glasses case sitting on the seat beside him along with a compact mirror and a plastic contact lens case.

I wonder why he doesn’t wear contacts more often, but then … the glasses are so fucking hot.

I bite my lip and yank my own mask on over my face.

“Remind me what we’re doing,” I say as I look out the window, trying to get a gather on what neighborhood we’re actually in. Some no-man’s land between Prescott and a neighborhood known as the Whiteaker, if I had to hazard a guess. I know every inch of South Prescott, but the boundaries are a little blurry.

“Like I said,” Victor tells me, reaching down to turn up the music. “A reminder never hurts.” He hits the button for the sunroof and then adjusts himself so that he’s crouching in his seat. “Alright, boys, let’s show the Charter Crew that we’re not playing games. Don’t shoot until I give the word, and try not to kill anyone. We already have cops sniffing around our fucking school.” Vic pauses and glances back at us, giving Cal a meaningful look. It’s impactful, even with the mask in place. “Except you, Cal. You know what you need to do.”

Cal and Hael roll their windows down on either side of me while Aaron and Vic do the same in the front.

“Safeties off,” Vic calls out as the Escalade slows, and I look out the window to see a group of people standing around in the front yard of an artsy house. Looks like we’ve just officially crossed over into the Whit, a neighborhood built by artists, musicians, and drugs. It used to be suicide to walk around here in the middle of the night, but the place has had its character ramrodded by uptight millennials seeking cheap homes.