Page 87 of Boys of Brayshaw High (Brayshaw High 1)

“Whatever, keep wasting your time on trash like her.”

“Like ... who?” he baits her.

“Who else?”

The menacing laugh that leaves Royce has me standing taller against the door. “Let me tell you something, Tisha, Raven is more than you’ll ever be. She’s with us and she didn’t even try to use what’s between her legs to get there, but you just did, didn’t you? Got dissed and still tried. No conversation, no lead up, just an open legged offer for a ticket to the top.” He laughs again. “You’re the only trash I’ve seen today, and I’ve been with Raven all morning. Consider this? You running your mouth, your marker. You’re done. Find a fucking normal and stay twenty feet from us. Always.”

Confusion draws my brows together and I drag myself to my seat.

He just defended me. Having no idea I was listening, Royce had my back.

Why did he do that?

I don’t like this, they’re confusing me now and I don’t know who or how to trust. I never wanted to be a part of a team.

And then I met them.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the shift, but to hear him with my own ears hold me up instead of throw me down makes it more real. More genuine and ... possible. I don’t know what to do with that.

My mind is trying to deny the risk, so why do my shoulders lift higher as if weight’s been removed?

Perhaps some now sits on three new sets of shoulders ...

No.

No.

Royce pops in, all smiles and smirks, bobbing his head to whatever it is that’s blaring in his earbuds. He drops in the seat beside me.

I wait for him to tell me all about how he told off that girl and put some stupid order on her, but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t gloat or make it funny liked I’d expect from him. He only winks at me and pulls out his school shit.

Halfway through class he passes me a note and I roll my eyes but grab it.

Are you mad at me for telling you’re staying with us? Say yes, if you never wanna taste my lasagna. Say NO, if you want to taste it tonight. I’ll even take you for ice cream after.

I can’t help but smile a little. I peek at him, but his eyes are on the legs of the brunette a seat forward and to the left of him.

I write “no” in bold letters, underlining his offer of ice cream.

“Ms. Carver, you’re wanted in the principal’s office.”

My head jerks forward and Royce sits to attention.

“For what?” I ask the teacher who only narrows her pointy eyes.

“Guess you’ll find out when you get there, won’t you?”

I offer a bitchy grin and snag my backpack off the floor. When I stand, Royce stands with me.

“Sit down, Mr. Brayshaw. He called for Raven only.”

“Heard you. Don’t care, and while we’re talking ... let me remind you to watch your tongue, teach. Don’t get comfortable behind that mahogany desk.”

I look from Royce to the teacher.

Her face is beat red as she steps back pretending she’s okay by moving on with her lecture – she knows who writes her checks so to speak.

We walk out and down the hall ... where we’re flanked by the other two.

“Do we know what he wants?” Captain asks Royce and my eyes bounce between them, each holding their phones in their hands.

Royce.

Change my mind, I am mad at him.

“Uh, hi.” They turn to me. “What’s going on here?”

Silence.

Right. An insider’s only issue I’m not privy too.

Well, fuck them too then.

I pretend to be swaying on my feet and then dart off, down the hall and slip into the office before they reach it.

Probably a horrible idea, but I lock it behind me.

His head jerks up right as there’s one solid pound on the other side of the door.

He sits back slowly.

“Ms. Carver.”

“Mr. Perkins.”

“Sit.”

“I’d rather stand, thanks.”

“I got a call a little while ago informing me you were moved houses.”

Fucking Royce.

“Yeah, the other location didn’t really work out. You need a new address form or something?”

He levels me with a stern look. He’s about to spew some fake shit, so I drop into the chair, forcing him to look me in the eye as he lies through his perfect teeth.

“Listen, Raven. I understand being new somewhere isn’t always easy, and sometimes the stress of it all is too much. I was thinking, maybe you’d like to transfer to another local school here? I could put in a good word, get your transfer processed for you. I think you’d really thrive at a place where students are free to be who they wish, not to mention the great programs they have for someone in your position.”

“What position would that be?”

“I know your plan is to simply graduate and move on, find a job somewhere and get settled – I read your English paper. You want a new life. I can help you get it.” There’s a sick gleam in his eye. He feels he has insight into me.