Page 84 of The Darkest Note

I’m plotting on ways to avoid my sister when Dutch pulls his luxury car into the parking lot of my old high school.

I stare at the chain-link fences. They have to lock up everything or junkies will break in, use the bathrooms and ransack the place. The buildings are rundown with peeling paint.

I know from memory that inside is no better. We have to bang on our lockers to get them to open up. Our cafeteria serves mystery meatloaf instead of sushi and gourmet burgers. And most of our teachers look like they’ve given up on life already.

It feels like getting dunked a cold bucket of water to be back here after spending almost two months at the fancy and luxurious Redwood Prep with their in-house gym, fully heated indoor swimming pool, tennis court, sprawling gardens and elegant decor.

“So this is how the other side lives,” Zane mumbles, looking almost excited to be here.

Dutch tosses a bag at his brother. It’s round and large, so I assume it’s carrying the cymbals.

Zane opens his hands and catches it just in time.

“Carry that. They said we should set up through the back door.”

I start to take out a guitar.

Dutch snatches it from me.

“What are you doing?”

His gaze lazily snakes down my dress to my shoes. “You shouldn’t be carrying anything.” Before I can start to think that he’s grown a soul overnight, he adds, “You might trip and fall and then our equipment will be ruined.”

So much for being a gentleman. Dutch is pure evil. I’m sure of it.

“Let me take it inside.” I grab for the equipment.

He narrows his eyes and drags it out of reach. “Are you going to pay if anything gets broken, roadie?”

I scowl at him.

He glares back, refusing to break eye contact.

“Can you guys go eye-stab each other over there,” Zane says with a hint of mischief in his tone. “We need to unload the truck.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Shut up, Zane.”

Dutch and I speak at the same time. When we realize we’ve actually agreed on something, we both huff in disgust and move out of the way.

Despite my insistence and a few sneak attempts, the Cross brothers get the equipment unloaded without me. Dutch keeps a sharp eye whenever I get too close and faithfully chases me away.

I’m already ready for the night to end when I hear a voice sing-song, “You’rehere!”

My best friend comes streaking down the school’s steps. She’s wearing a tight blue dress that falls over her stunning body. Her blonde hair’s piled up on top of her head.

She stops short when she sees me. “Cadence?”

“Breeze.” Panic locks on my head and clamps tight. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I told you I was on the planning committee this year. They asked me to help out with the freshman dance.”

She probably did tell me that, but I can’t remember. Though it does explain why our old high school would insist on booking The Kings instead of a regular DJ like they always do.

Breeze’s gaze volleys between me and the three gorgeous rockstars who are standing next to me. “What’s… this?”

This is a very long story that I have not yet shared with my best friend.