Pain shines in his eyes as he makes a zipping motion across his lips. “Shutting up, Master Reed. You know what’s best for the Royals, right? You do all the right things. Get all the good grades. Play ball smart. Screw all the right girls. Except when you don’t. And when you fuck up, you affect us all.” His hand wraps around the back of my neck and drags me forward until our heads are pressed together. “So why don’t you shut up, Reed? Ella’s not coming back. She’s dead, just like Mommy Dearest. Only this time, it’s not my fault. It’s yours.”
Shame swamps me, a murky, ugly substance that glues itself to my bones and weighs me down. I can’t escape the truth. East is right. I helped kill Mom, and if Ella’s dead, I helped killed her, too.
I wrench myself away from his grasp and stalk back into the locker room. I’ve never fought in public with my brothers before. It’s always been all for one, one for all.
Mom hated when we fought at home, but didn’t tolerate it when we were out. If we even so much as sniped at each other, she pretended we weren’t hers.
Maria Royal’s boys don’t ever embarrass her or themselves in public. One disapproving look from her had us straightening our clothes, throwing our arms around each other like it was opening day at the ballpark and we were happy to be alive—despite being seconds away from thrashing each other within an inch of our lives.
The door to the locker room creaks open. I don’t look up to see who it is. I know it’s not East. When he gets mad, he keeps to himself.
“On Friday, before the game, one of the Pastels took scissors to some freshman and cut off her hair. Chick ran out school bawling her eyes out.”
I tense. Shit. That must’ve been the girl Delacorte and I saw streaking out of the building and into the VW. “Blonde, skinny? Drives a white Passat?”
He nods and the bench creaks as he takes a seat next to me. “Day before that, Dev Khan torched June Chen’s science project.”
“Isn’t June a scholarship student?”
“Yup.”
“Huh.” I force myself to sit up. “Any other pretty stories you want to tell?”
“Those are the two big ones. I’ve heard rumors about other shit, but haven’t confirmed them. Jordan spit on some girl during health. Goody Bellingham is offering fifty grand to anyone who’s willing to run train on the homecoming court.”
I rub a tired hand over my jaw. This stupid school. “It’s barely been two weeks.”
“And in those two weeks, your brothers stopped talking to you, you got into it with Delacorte, smashed a locker. Oh, and before Ella left, apparently you decided you didn’t like the look of Scott Gastonburg and tried to rearrange his face.”
“He was talking smack.” The guy insulted Ella. I didn’t hear it, but I knew by the smug look on his face when we were at the club that he’d thought he’d gotten away with something. Not on my watch.
“Probably. Nothing that comes out of Gasty’s mouth is ever worth listening to. You did us all a favor getting it wired shut, but the rest of the school’s falling apart. You need to man up.”
“I don’t care what happens to Astor.”
“Maybe you don’t. But without the Royals running things, the school’s going to shit.” Wade shifts on the hard metal surface. “People are talking about Ella, too.”
“Whatever. Let them talk.”
“You say that now, but how’s it gonna be for her when she gets back? She’s already gotten into a catfight with Jordan. I mean, yeah, it was hot as hell. But then there was the Daniel thing and now she’s disappeared. Everyone says she’s off getting an abortion or recovering from an STD. If you’re hiding her, now’s the time to trot her out, make a show of force.”
I remain silent.
Wade sighs. “I know you don’t like being in charge, but guess what, dude— you are and have been since Gid graduated. If you let things continue to slide, by the time Halloween comes it’ll be a horror show here. There’ll be intestines and brain matter splattered on the school walls. Someone will have gone full-on Carrie on Jordan by then.”
Jordan. That chick is nothing but trouble. “Why don’t you take care of it?” I mutter. “Your family’s got enough money to buy Jordan’s.” Wade comes from old money. I think some of it is still stored in gold bullion in their basement.
“It’s not money. It’s the Royals. You make people listen. Probably ’cause there’re so many of you.”
He’s right. The Royals have ruled this school since Gid was a sophomore. I don’t know what happened, but one day we woke up and everyone looked to Gid. If a kid stepped out of line, Gid was there to set him straight. The rules were simple. Pick on someone your own size.
Size being a metaphorical thing. Size being social status, bank account, intelligence. Jordan going after one of the Pastels would’ve been fine. Jordan going after a scholarship student? Not so good.
Ella had fallen into a gap. She wasn’t a scholarship student. She wasn’t a rich kid either. And I thought that she was sleeping with my dad. That he’d brought home a whore from a high-class brothel. He and Steve liked to frequent those places on business trips. Yeah, Dad’s a real class act.