What would a Havoc Girl do?

She’d burn this shit to the ground.

“You can thank me later,” I say as the boys come around the corner and find me sitting on the ground next to Hael’s car. I remember Vic telling me not to touch the damn thing without Hael’s permission, but he doesn’t seem bothered by me leaning against it.

“Thank you for what?” Vic says as he notices the still-smoking trash can sitting next to the dumpster.

“Ms. Keating found a box of everything Principal Vaughn had on you guys from over the years: reports of bullying, vandalism, violence. He had a freaking goldmine ready to nail your asses with. I’m guessing since he had it hidden under his desk, he was getting ready to use it.”

“And how’d you end up with it?” Hael asks as Callum chuckles and leans in to examine the smoking remains. He glances up at me and winks one of those pretty blue eyes of his in my direction.

“She pulled me into her office for some sort of ridiculous pep talk,” I say, tucking my hands into my pockets and feeling my own report crinkle under my fingers. “I stole it and jumped out the window.”

“Ooh, you’re gonna be in so much fucking trouble on Monday,” Callum says, grinning. Hael still looks distracted while Aaron stares at me like he’s never seen me before. Oscar is studying me with a discerning eye, but at least Vic looks happy.

“What’s in your pocket?” Oscar asks, blinking gray eyes at me. The question sounds casual, but there’s so much menace in it. Nobody misses his tone.

“Empty your pockets,” Vic says, frowning and giving Oscar a look. “If you’re gonna accuse a member of Havoc, you carry it through. I don’t like idle threats.”

I do as Vic asked, my palms sweating as I pull out the crumpled piece of paper, my lighter, and two dollars in cash. Vic strides forward, sliding his hands up my side and checking inside my jacket for anything I might’ve missed. Or maybe he’s just doing that on pretense, and is actually feeling me up instead?

Our eyes meet as he steps back and unfolds the single piece of paper.

Oscar’s gaze darkens, like he expected as much, but then Vic turns and thrusts the stapled pages at his friend’s chest.

“Don’t doubt our girl,” he warns as Oscar opens up the page and reads it, his eyes narrowing slightly before he passes it back to me, albeit reluctantly.

“I’m sorry, Bernadette,” he says in that smooth, easy voice of his. “I was wrong, and I’m not often wrong.”

“Wrong, how?” I ask, shoving the papers back in my pocket as Oscar adjusts his glasses.

“I assumed you’d keep more than your own confession.” He glances over at the smoking trash can. “That is, unless you stored the remaining pages elsewhere.”

“Oscar, that’s enough,” Vic snaps, and even Aaron looks frustrated, raking his fingers through his wavy brown hair.

“You can doubt me all you want,” I say, stepping up close to Oscar, my heels putting us more or less on the same level. “But I didn’t have to steal that box. I could’ve just left it in Ms. Keating’s office and let her drop the gavel on Havoc. Or I could’ve hidden it and you never would’ve known I had it.” A smile curves my lips as I meet Oscar’s eyes and stare him down. He’s not an easy person to lock gazes with, I’ll admit. But I refuse to back down. After all, I did beat his ass not too long ago. “Did it cross my mind to use that box against you? Yeah, it did.” I step back and shake my head, reaching up to fluff my hair. “But I guess I’d rather let you guys get away with all the rotten shit you did than be a liar like everyone else I know.”

Oscar smiles, this wicked sharp version of the expression, but I feel like I at least gained a point or two with him.

“No wonder Ms. Keating was running around in a huff,” Aaron says, giving me an assessing sort of look, like he’s wondering where good girl Bernadette went. I guess she died around the same time good boy Aaron did. Because, let’s face it, nice guys really do finish last. “You’ll get suspended, at the very least.”

“Maybe,” I say, well-aware of the risk. “But she also has this weird, savior complex thing going on. I might be able to get away with detention.”

“Well-done, Bernadette,” Vic says, pride clear in his rumbling voice. His eyes sparkle as he takes me in, rubbing at his chin. He’s not going to let me forget that we fucked in the bathroom today. Without a condom. I grit my teeth. I know I’m being an idiot, but to be honest, it’s hard to care. The only thing that matters is the here and now. The future is an intangible possibility that I may or may not be around to see. “Boys, let’s load up and hit the Halloween store. We need fucking costumes—preferably with masks.”

The Hellhole is a spooky little shop that’s open year-round in Springfield, located in what used to be a seedy bar on Main Street. This time of year, it’s overflowing with customers, but there are plenty of Prescott students who come here to buy (or steal) shit to wear to school. Case in point: the heels with the big silver skulls on them that I’m currently wearing.

Yep, got them at the Hellhole.

It’s sort of like … the anti-Hot Topic. Like, Hot Topic is where you shop for goth shit if you go to Fuller High and live in a nice middle-class house in a nice middle-class neighborhood.

Hellhole is the place you shop when you eat middle-class kids for breakfast.

“It’s claustrophobic as fuck in here,” Aaron murmurs, looking through rubber masks on one of the walls. This place is not only packed to the gills with people, but there’s so much product in here, the aisles are barely wide enough for a single person to squeeze down. Shit is hanging from the ceiling, the walls, the ten-foot racks in the middle of the room.

I notice the sweat on Aaron’s brow, and I remember that he really is claustrophobic. On instinct, I reach out and brush some hair from his forehead. Then he freezes, and I remember that we’ve been broken up for years, and that I fucking hate his face.

“Buck up, Havoc Boy,” I say, pulling a bloodied mask off the wall and slipping it over my head. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re too pretty to wear a mask,” he says, yanking it off my head and putting it on his own before I can think up a response. “Better?”

“You’ll make Kara and Ashley cry,” I say, turning away and moving from the masks section to the—for lack of a better word—slutty costume portion of the store. Look at that, I can be whatever I want to be—astronaut, firefighter, police officer—just so long as I’m selling sex while I’m doing it.

I notice Hael in the corner, tapping away at his phone, and I get this hot, angry flush all over my skin.

“Brittany?” I ask, and he lifts his head up, like he hadn’t realized I was standing there. He shoots for one of his signature smirks, but it just doesn’t stick.

“She wants to meet to talk,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do. I just know that’s not my fucking kid.”

“Maybe she poked a hole in a condom?” I say, feeling annoyed that I even have to discuss Hael having sex with Brittany. I mean, I’ve had sex with a few guys I didn’t really like, so it’s not like we don’t all make mistakes at some point in our lives. Still, I hate the idea of it anyway.