“Who was she sleeping with before Mitch?” I ask, trying to think if I saw Kali prancing around with anyone before the end of junior year. “She’s two-timing him with some asswad from Oak Valley Prep, right? Is it that guy’s baby?”

“No clue,” Vic answers instead, but I’m having a hard time looking at him for some reason. When he talks, my pulse thunders. “Kali wasn’t exactly on our radar until you gave us your list.”

“You’d think it was fucking spring or something,” Hael murmurs, his gaze faraway, jaw tense, neck tight. He’s very clearly still focused on Brittany.

The back door opens and Aaron disappears outside to give the girls their snack, a paper plate covered in apple slices and cheddar squares. He smiles as the girls bounce up to him to grab some food, not looking at all put-out at having to take care of them. Like me, this is his sole purpose in life. This is his reason for living.

My chest gets tight, and I sit down heavily in the chair behind me.

“Just because she’s pregnant,” Callum muses, playing with that knife of his, the one I borrowed from his pocket and stabbed Kali with. Maybe I should feel bad about that, but it’s hard to drum up sympathy for that girl. Or maybe my heart’s just dead. Either way, I feel nothing. That is … until Vic looks at me again, and then I feel everything. I clench my jaw. “That doesn’t mean we can’t mess with her face.”

I raise my brows at the blatant threat of violence in his voice, at odds with the beautiful way he danced. Sure, he was angry, but he wasn’t violent. But then I think about the baseball bat and the security guard, and the way he beat the ever-living crap out of Kyler.

“Scar her up a bit?” Vic says, bouncing Cal’s idea back. “That would certainly mess with her future modeling career.”

Aaron slips back in the door and comes over to join the rest of us, leaning back against the wall where Vic and I …

“She’s more than just a name on Bernadette’s list. She’s been openly and blatantly defying us. The whole school knows she started that shit in the bathroom with Billie. We have to make an example of her to the entire student body.” Aaron kicks his boot up against the wall, crossing muscular arms over his chest as he scowls.

“Scarring her face up wouldn’t do that?” Cal asks, glancing over his shoulder to where Aaron’s standing. My ex shrugs his big shoulders and then gets out a cigarette, lighting up like he’s been doing this forever. I know for a fact he never touched a cigarette until after his dad died and he joined Havoc. “Trust me: I know the cost of a good scar.” Callum runs a finger along the scar that traces his jawline and sighs.

“I’m not saying that’s not a valid idea, just that it’s not enough.” Aaron turns his green-gold eyes to the backyard, watching the girls giggle and scream as they swordfight with sticks. Ah, the resilience of children. I wonder when I lost that, the ability to let go and just have fun.

“Mm.” Vic rubs his chin again, and then shrugs. “We always come up with something. For now, let’s get dressed. Oscar, see if they’ve gone?”

“Get dressed for what?” I ask as Oscar heads for the front door and lets himself out.

“We’ve got a late-night class to attend,” Vic says, his attention on the girls, too. He turns away and heads for his room, leaving me to either follow after him and demand answers or just wait and see.

I decide on the latter.

We drop the girls off at Jennifer Lowell’s place, this hideous upper middle-class McMansion with absolutely zero character. But it’s nice, and it’s a hell of a lot safer than my mom’s place or Vic’s place or even Aaron’s place. There’s a gate code to even get in here.

“Do I need to chip into the babysitting fund?” I ask, thinking about the two grand I buried in the backyard at home. I figured that way, even if I got kicked out or something, I could always sneak over the fence and find it.

“It’s paid for out of the Havoc account,” Oscar says, and I have to seriously wonder how much money is in that account if I get twenty-grand to plan my fake wedding with. My eyes flick over to the back of Vic’s head as he sits in the front passenger seat of Aaron’s minivan. It doesn’t escape my notice that we use his van for gang activities. It’s kinda funny if you think about it.

Aaron parks the van along the curb on Main Street, and we all climb out. I hear we’re boosting a car tonight, and I guess this is how it’s done.

The six of us walk four blocks down, toward the Washburne Historic district. The houses here used to be crumbling shitholes that pawned drugs like candy, but now they’re all being restored, and the cars parked out front prove it.

“This the one?” Aaron asks, examining a shiny black SUV. “I’ve always wanted a Navigator.”

“This is the one,” Hael agrees, grinning as he pulls out a small white box from his bag. He presses the keyless entry button on the door’s handle, and it beeps cheerily. “Hop in.” It’s an effort to keep my mouth from gaping open in shock as I climb into the unlocked vehicle and watch Hael press the Start Engine button. The SUV offers zero resistance as he releases the parking brake, and off we go. “No fun left in stealing new cars,” Hael continues as we pull away from the quiet house with the cute carved pumpkins out front. According to the Havoc Boys, they try to steal the nicest cars around because the nicest cars usually have the nicest insurance. That’s some messed-up moral code, but it makes a strange sort of sense.

I glance out the rear windshield to see if the owners have noticed, but nobody stirs from behind the curtained windows.

“Was it me, or was that just too damn easy?” I ask, and Hael chuckles, in a much better mood than he’s been in all week.

“Key fobs produce a series of repeating codes, that’s how they unlock the doors or start the cars on keyless systems. All you have to do is get one of these babies,” Hael holds up the little white box, “and intercept the code when the owner unlocks their car. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.” He grins as he revs the engine, nodding in Cal’s direction. “Start up some music, huh? And none of that prissy ballet shit.”

“Go fuck your mom,” Cal says, chuckling as he hooks his phone up to the Bluetooth system and starts Bow Down by I Prevail. Hael cranks the system, and the music comes pouring out like an assault.

I lean back in the leather seat and try not to let my nerves get the best of me. The plan tonight is to crash a Prescott party and show the entire school that Havoc is still a force to be reckoned with. Not sure what, exactly, we need the SUV for. Maybe Aaron just doesn’t want his van involved in a confrontation?

There are three types of parties in Springfield: Fuller High parties, Prescott parties, and Oak Valley Prep parties. Prescott students wouldn’t be caught dead at an Oak Valley Prep party; it’s social suicide. Seeing fellow students kowtow to money just isn’t our thing in the southside. But we will (and often do) crash Fuller High parties, if only to see the looks on those preppy faces. Security is lighter than at an Oak Valley party, and the Fuller kids don’t look at us like some sort of social project or bad girl/bad boy trophy to tease their parents with. They just don’t want us there which, of course, makes us want to be there more.