“I’m fine,” I say, leaning back on the sun-warmed brick steps. “Ms. Keating let me off with an essay assignment for stealing that box.” I glance in the boys’ direction and find all of them but Oscar staring at me. Fucking asshole.

“Remind me to make friends with Ms. Keating,” Hael snorts, redirecting his attention back to his phone. Probably fucking texting Brittany again, I think, licking my lips in frustration. He runs his fingers through his bloodred hair as he types out a message.

“Ms. Keating hates you,” Cal says with a chuckle. “Nothing you can do to change that now. Just accept that for the next seven and a half months, you’re her bitch.”

“I’m nobody’s bitch,” Hael snorts. Vic narrows his eyes and reaches over, snatching the phone from his best friend’s hand. “What the fuck, man?”

“You’re nobody’s bitch? Because it looks like you’re Brittany’s. Stop fucking kowtowing to her.”

“Kowtowing? That’s what you call it when she’s threatening to sic her dad’s anti-gang squad on us, and I’m doing damage control?” Hael says as Vic pockets his friend’s phone, his purple-black hair shining in the sunlight.

“You wouldn’t have to do damage control if you’d stayed the hell away from her,” Vic says, and Oscar nods in agreement. The way Hael looks at his friend, I can sense a simmering anger that wasn’t there before. I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with what happened between the three of us, but maybe it does? “We will deal with Brittany after Halloween.”

“Fuck, whatever you say, boss,” Hael grumbles, looking back at me as Aaron pretends to be interested in a slice of pepperoni pizza. Has he noticed that I’m wearing his hoodie today? Or that I haven’t washed it since I took it from him? I tell myself it’s because I’ve been too lazy to do laundry, but that’s not true at all.

It’s because I like putting it on and being enveloped by his smell.

I pick up a chocolate milk off the tray between me and Vic, sticking a straw into it.

“Stay low this week, don’t stir up trouble.” Vic glances over at me, his obsidian eyes catching the light and taking my breath away. In the sun like this, they’re not quite so dark. In fact, I can see shades of chocolate brown twisted with russet and auburn. “I’m sorry about the slow progress on Kali. On your list, in general.”

“I just said it had to be done before graduation,” I say, wondering why I’m being so damn lenient. I hate them, right? This is torture, right? “I get it. Let’s deal with Mitch and his merry band of assholes first.”

Vic chuckles and shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair.

“Let’s,” he says, a strange emphasis on the word. He stares out at the street, like he’s searching for something.

Whatever that something is, it never comes, the bell rings, and we all head inside.

The week passes by relatively quietly. There’s no sign of Principal Vaughn, and no trouble from Mitch’s buddies. Billie, Kali, and Ivy steer clear of me in the halls, and nobody mentions the trashed cars.

But instead of feeling relieved, I start to get nervous.

I’ve been with Havoc for two months now, and every goddamn day, it’s something. Having things be so quiet makes me wary.

On Thursday, I ride with Aaron after school to pick up Kara, Ashley, and Heather. There’s no after-school program today which is fine because our plan is to take the girls trick or treating at dusk, and then hit Stacey’s party after.

Everyone knows the only good parties start after dark.

“What sort of costumes did you get the girls?” I ask, my voice loud in the quiet minivan. Aaron’s hands tighten a bit on the wheel as he slides his green-gold gaze over to me, the brakes squeaking as we pause at a stop sign. Red, yellow, and brown leaves swirl against the windshield as a group of costumed children dart through the crosswalk.

“Last year, I tried to make their costumes, you know? Like I sat down and tried to sew shit.”

“You tried to sew?” I ask, blinking in surprise and then clamping a hand over my lips to stop a surprised giggle. Aaron raises a brunette brow at me.

“You think that’s so funny? Me sitting down to sew a princess costume?”

“I think it’s hilarious,” I reply, finally giving into the chuckle. “A seventeen-year-old inked-up asshole sitting down with a needle and thread? That’s the punchline of a joke if I’ve ever heard one.” He smirks at me and shakes his head, easing the van forward and heading toward Heather’s school.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to give the girls something authentic or … like, something I used to have …” He trails off, and his eyes go dark, looking at something far, far away from here. The past, most likely. Until Aaron’s mom left, she was the Suzy Homemaker type. She baked, sewed, decorated. His past and present are two completely different realities. “Anyway, the costumes fucking sucked, so this year, I gave in and just bought some bagged shit from the Hellhole.”

He gestures to the plastic bag between our seats, and I reach down to peep inside. There’s a pre-packaged fairy costume, some glittery wings made of wire and tulle, and various accessories. The second costume is a sassy little witch with striped tights.

“At least you went the extra mile and bought add-ons,” I remark, noticing the carved wood broom beneath the bag, and the witch’s hat peeking out from the back seat. “After Dad died, I didn’t get costumes anymore. Well, I mean, there was that one year when I was eight and cried about it, so Mom cut holes in my sheets to make me a ghost …”

“A pink ghost patterned with a gaudy Minnie Mouse print,” Aaron adds, and I smile. It’s not a nice smile though, more like a melancholy one. I’d almost forgotten that he knew all my stories. We have history together, I think, my fingers picking at the holey knees of my jeans. Silence reigns supreme for several moments before Aaron speaks up again. “But you’re right: they’ll remember I put in some effort, at least.” He pauses again and wets his lower lip, like he’s nervous. “Do you think you could help with their makeup? I fucking suck at it. No matter how many YouTube videos I watch …”

I lift my head up to look at him, tucking some blond hair behind my ear. He really is pretty, isn’t he? I think, shifting in my seat and trying not to let those old sour feelings of mine rush to the surface. We have to learn to get along. Blood in, blood out …

“I’d be happy to,” I say, unbuckling my seat belt, so I can climb out and grab Heather. As I reach for the door handle though, I feel Aaron’s fingers on my arms. Adrenaline shoots through me as I glance back.

His face is resolute, determined, his jaw clenched.

“I know it can’t possibly make up for everything that happened, but for what it’s worth, Bernadette, I’m … I’m sorry.” My eyes widen, and I try to pull away, but Aaron won’t let me go. His fingers dig into my skin, and my hands start to shake. “I’ve never stopped loving you; I just thought you should know that.”

I tear my arm from his grip and slam the car door, putting my back to it and closing my eyes. I don’t even care that Aaron can still see me standing there. What the actual fuck?! How dare he throw that shit in my face like that. How dare he. How fucking dare he …