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Chapter Four

Jolie

No one was home when I arrived back from my shopping trip. Also, Brennan forgot to mention that he had a sweet ride. Why he drives that stupid old sedan instead makes no sense. I won’t complain about being able to drive this car though—he can have the sedan.

The rest of the weekend went by uneventfully, and I even managed to stay off Boston’s radar. Mostly because I locked myself in my room, only leaving for food when the coast was clear. Though I was half expecting him to inspect my clothes the second I walked through the door after my shopping trip.

This morning I made sure I woke up on time—or more so, Brennan called to make sure I was up. He gave me a positivity speech and wished me luck for my first day at Northwood Pines High School.

The uniform is fairly fancy: a short black-and-green tartan skirt that cuts off above the knee with a thin black belt, a white blouse, and a vest that buttons up to just below the bust, along with a tie. The outfit is finished off with sheer white knee-high socks and black chunky heels. As far as school uniforms go, this one is cute. There is also a blazer for winter days, but we are a few weeks away from any cool weather.

After applying the last layer of mascara, I pack the matching school bag with my MacBook, phone, a new purse I found yesterday, and Brennan’s car keys. Finally ready, I make my way down the stairs to where the smell of bacon fills the house.

A small, round woman, who I presume is Petra, is in the kitchen cooking food, while five familiar guys sit at the breakfast bar. I have avoided the kitchen, and most of the house, to evade Boston. Usually I love stirring trouble, but I’ve met my match with him and need to up my game to get any kind of reaction.

“Hey, baby,” Laughn greets, eyeing me in my uniform.

I flip him off and introduce myself to the woman, who confirms she is Petra as she hands me a plate of food. Petra doesn’t bat an eyelid at the interaction between Laughn and me; she seems like a quiet woman.

I take a seat next to Laughn. Better the devil I know than the ones I don’t, and I’m yet to find out the names of the other guys. I should have asked Brennan, but it never really crossed my mind until now. Laughn’s hand rests on my knee when I take my seat and my core clenches. My damn body is a traitor to the sensation of human touch.

“Remove your hand or else.”

He snickers, while moving his hand higher.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” My tone is low enough for only us to hear.

His long fingers tickle my pussy through my underwear. He’s gone too far, and I slap him away, his hand falling to his side.

I have tried to reel in my crazy so far, as Brennan has done me a solid. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but guys like these need to know who is boss, and I did see five expensive-looking cars lined up in the driveway this morning. In this moment, I remember the episode of Cheaters where a guy loved his car so much his woman smashed it with a baseball bat when she found him cheating. Perfect.

The guys all leave well before I finish eating. I take my time, then help Petra tidy up. She insists she can do it, but she isn’t my maid and was nice enough to make me breakfast. When enough time passes, I make my way to school, needing to follow the directions on my phone’s navigation app. This place is something else.

The high school is on the border of Northwood Pines and Ellwood; anyone with an average wage could never afford to enrol here. The houses and the cars are all stupid expensive and I feel like a fish out of water pulling into the student parking. I roll my eyes. Never have I attended a school with its own student parking.

Taking a spot at the furthest end of the lot, I easily locate the guys’ cars from there. Lined up side by side, they’re all the same, just painted different colours.

The school and the parking lot are separated by shrubs over ten feet tall, and that is on top of a retaining wall. My plan is complete when I spy Laughn standing against the fence at the top of the shrubs, smoking a cigarette, and all the others look to be there too. I was going to save the show for after school, but this way they can stew on it all day. As luck would have it, a poor kid is walking past with a hockey stick. My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

“Hey!” the kid snaps when I take the stick straight from his hands.

“Sorry, I’ll give it right back.” I skip gleefully to the cars, whistling.

Boston is the first to see me.

“Laughn, baby, which one is yours?” I point the stick to the cars.

All five guys hang over the side of the fence, looking down at me. While I am raising the stick towards the blue car, someone yells, “The green one!”

“This yours?” I ask, stepping towards the green car.

He looks at me, his cigarette hanging from his lips.

“This is for holding me down.” My first swing takes out a side mirror, and I don’t bother looking back. “And this,” I yell, “is for touching me without my permission.”

I strike, taking out one of the front headlights. Someone screams in a high-pitched girly way. I look over my shoulder and the guys have vanished, all except Laughn. He is scaling the shrubs and I have about twenty seconds before he hits the bottom—if I’m lucky.

I swing at the other headlight. “If any of you other assholes want to try me, bring it o?—”

My words cut off and everything happens so fast. A large hand with green tattoos wraps around my neck, and I swear my feet lift from the ground before I’m slammed on the bonnet. A loud crack ripples through me, and I’m sure his car will have a large dent the size of my body.

“You crazy fucking bitch!” Laughn roars, his body pinning mine down.

Sweat lines my brow. The smile is still on my lips.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I whisper through the pressure on my throat, as we are joined by the others.

Laughn’s body rests between my legs, his erection pressed hard against me. “I can’t wait for the next show.”

Wait... what? Seriously?! This guy likes my crazy. I was hoping he would be mad. I should have saved the car beat down for Boston, but I already know one of his weaknesses. Would having to screw Laughn be such a bad thing? I wouldn’t exactly say it would be a punishment—he is somewhat growing on me.

His mouth smashes down on mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth. Boston curses, causing me to open my eyes while I kiss Laughn back. Boston’s hands are balled into fists, and if he clenches his jaw together any harder, his teeth might crack.

“Okay, lover boy, stop mauling the girl.”

Laughn is pulled away from me, while I’m left panting from the explosive kiss. Hot damn, that boy has skills.

“Fuck off, Marlow, you’re just jealous.”

Ah, so Marlow is the one who gave me his shirt. I straighten myself up and slip from the hood.

“What a way to start my first day. Thanks, Laughn.” I wink at him, picking up my backpack and the hockey stick. The poor boy is still standing on the sidelines, waiting for it back.

“Anytime, baby,” he calls out.

I hand the stick to the boy with a thanks, who grabs it and scurries away. I don’t look back, but I know I have five sets of eyes boring into my back.

Following the signs on the buildings, I head towards administration. Heads turn as I walk past and kids stare. I’m sure they’re not used to my kind here.

“Is it true?” a random boy asks, stopping me from my mission to find the office.

“Is what true?”

“That you smashed the shit out of Laughn’s car?” His eyes are wide in anticipation of my answer. The kid seems younger than me; he is scrawny with no muscle tone, and his hair is all over the place. He looks like a hot mess.

“Sure is. Maybe the prick will keep his hands to himself.” I can’t help my eyeroll.

The boy laughs. “Doubt it. Those guys rule this school. It seems you might have sealed your fate by taking them on.”

“Is that so? Lucky for me, I have nothing to lose and plenty of time on my hands.”

“I love you. I swear no one has ever stood up to them before. My name is James, but you can call me Jimmie.”

I decide I like this kid.

“Nice to meet you, Jimmie. I’m Jolie. How about showing me to the office and filling me in on what’s what at Northwood?”

He agrees to show me the way while he fills me in on the guys. They rule the school, blah blah blah. Even poor schools have that one group of kids who think they are better than everyone else. He tells me what girls to avoid, but I forget their names as soon as he finishes talking about them. Something tells me they will seek me out as soon as they realise I’m associated with Boston.

Jimmie holds the door open, and I walk through. A lady, maybe in her early-twenties, looks me up and down from behind the desk. A disdainful grimace is how I’m welcomed.

“Hey, Betty. This is Jolie. She is new,” Jimmie says, stepping out from behind me.

“Oh, Jimmie, I didn’t see you there.” Her smile for him is genuine. “Right, Jolie, I have your timetable here and a map in case you get lost.” Not once does she look at me while she is speaking.

“Thanks Betty. I better show Jolie to her form room before we’re late.”

We leave and Jimmie asks to see my timetable. I hand it to him, and he shows me the way.

The hallways are filled with students rushing to class. I get a magnitude of stares as I pass, especially from the girls. Has word travelled that fast of my morning activities? Of course, it has. That is how I met Jimmie.

“This is your class,” he says, stopping outside of an empty room. “If you want, I can meet you for lunch.”

“Sure, sounds good. See you then.”

He smiles and waves, running off towards his own class.

I’m one of the first in my form class, so I walk past the teacher while he nods and tells me to take a seat. I find one in the second row, closest to the right-hand side of the room. The tables are arranged in rows of eight, a gap to either side allowing students to get out.

A beautiful strawberry blonde takes a seat beside me, looking refreshingly innocent. “Hi, I’m Sinclair.”

“Jolie.”

She holds out her hand and we awkwardly shake.

“Nice to meet you. I heard you made quite an entrance this morning.” She smiles as she talks. “It’s about time someone stood up to them. They think they rule this school.”

I go to reply, but I’m cut short when Laughn sits on my desk.

“We don’t think we own the school, We know it.”

Rolling my eyes, I attempt to ignore him, hoping he will go away.

“I think we’re going to be BFTFs.”

I look at Laughn as if he has grown a second head. So much for trying to ignore him.

“What now?” I ask, confused. I’m not good at acronyms.

“Best friends that fuck,” he announces to the whole class, and laughter fills the room.

“Laughn, take your seat so we can get on with it,” the teacher admonishes. He salutes the teacher and takes his seat. “We have a new student today. Jolie, why don’t you introduce yourself?”

Having learned over the years that it is just easier to do as they ask, I stand. “I’m Jolie. Pretty sure you will all hate me—most people do after a while. I’m a foster kid from the wrong side of the tracks. The Myers family has been gracious enough to take pity on me for the next few months. What else...”

“You’re a crazy bitch that smashes expensive-ass cars.”

Cutting a scathing look at the kid that just spoke, I retort, “Take that as a lesson learned on Laughn’s behalf to never touch a woman unless you have consent.”

“A good lesson indeed,” the teacher says, and I take my seat again.

“Baby, the lessons have only just begun.”

The teacher shushes Laughn and goes on with the morning notices. Nothing too drastic. Nothing that applies to me. Form only lasts ten minutes and then we are dismissed to head to our first class. Sinclair walks out with me.

“What class do you have next?” she asks, falling into step with me.

“English.”

“Same. So, you’re staying with the Myers family. I couldn’t imagine having to stay there. Boston may look reserved, but he’s the worst. They’re all bad.”

“They have met their match with me. I’m only really acquainted with Boston, Laughn, and Marlow.”

“The other two are Davis and Case. Case is the one with the tattoo on his jaw and big stretchers in his ears, and he has a slight punk cross serial killer vibe. Davis is the boy next door that murders you in your sleep.”

So Case is the one that poor, innocent girl has a crush on, and I spat in his face.

“That is an awesome way to describe them.” I grin at her. “I would love to hear your thoughts on the others.”

“Well Marlow is the mellow, ‘smother you with a pillow’ type. Boston is the ‘kill you with his broody mood swings,’ or orgasms, guy—so I have heard through the grapevine—and Laughn... shit, that crazy mofo would skin you alive and deep fry you.”

We make it to English and sit together. Lucky for me, none of the guys are in my class. A group of girls sit behind me, who whisper and giggle the entire class. I don’t miss them talking about me, but I really don’t care what they think.

After English I have Biology, and just my luck, Laughn is in my class. He makes it a point to sit next to me, keeping his hands to himself. We work in pairs, giving me plenty of time to look at his body modifications. His tongue seems to be the most drastic, and while his contacts are weird as shit, I’m not as creeped out as I was the first time I saw them. His body is heavily tattooed with lots of colours, and they seem like old-school tattoos.

When I walk out of class, Jimmie is waiting just as promised. It is a relief to see a friendly face.

“Hey,” he says, pushing off the wall.

“Hey back. I’m so hungry I could eat the ass of a low-flying duck.”

Jimmie snorts. “You’re so weird. Let’s go get you some food and save those poor ducks.” We walk side by side until he abruptly stops, and I turn to see what his problem is.

“What is wrong with you?” I ask.

He moves his head and I look at where he is gesturing.

“Stop being dramatic,” I say, noticing the group of girls walking our way with a redhead leading the pack.

Red and her posse stop when they reach me, and Jimmie shuffles up behind me.

“So, you’re the new girl,” she says with a hand on her hip. Typical mean girl stance—I would laugh if it was any more cliché.

“Yep, that would be me,” I say in a bored tone. “So glad we had this chat, but I have ducks to save.”

Jimmie chuckles quietly from behind me.

“Our chat hasn’t even started. I heard you had fun with one of our guys’ cars this morning.”

“Nope, wrong person. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I match her stance, flipping my dark hair over my shoulder as an added touch.

“Don’t play stupid with me, new girl. They’re our guys—you mess with them, you mess with us.”

“It’s funny, I didn’t see any name tag on Laughn when he had his tongue down my throat, but I will be sure to look next time.” I wink, and her face goes as red as her hair.

“Chelsea, maybe you should walk away,” Jimmie says.

“Shut up, nerd. No one asked you,” one of Chelsea’s lackeys sneers, and my last nerve is done.

Lunging forward, I grab Chelsea by the throat, pushing her back until she hits the closest wall. One thing I find useful from my non-memories is the shit my body can do automatically with no idea of how or where I learned it. Fighting is apparently something I can do, which came in handy when my foster brothers used to slip into my room.

“Take it back and tell Jimmie you’re sorry.” I ease the pressure so she can talk.

“S . . . sorry,” she stutters.

What amazing friends she has. I expected more of a fight in them, but they have all cowered away rather than help their queen bitch.

“Jolie!” a voice booms.

I know it’s Boston. I roll my eyes; here we go.

“Baby, drop the girl.”

Laughn’s sarcasm makes a smirk creep to my face. How have I grown fond of him already?

“Fine,” I snap, letting her go. She gasps for breath and scrambles away, crying to her friends.

Turning, I face the firing squad.

“What did I tell you about representing my family?” Boston seethes, though I have a feeling his question is rhetorical.

“Um... crazy is as crazy does?” I bat my eyelashes at him exaggeratedly.

Laughn smirks, but Boston’s face is impassive, giving nothing away.

“She doesn’t even make sense,” Chelsea whines.

“She makes perfect sense,” Laughn replies, his eyes solely focused on me. The urge to slip my tongue down his throat again lingers in my core.

“Why are you still here?” Case adds.

Chelsea huffs and walks away, her friends following.

“As fun as run-ins with you guys are, Jimmie and I have a date to save the ducks before I eat their asses.” I grab Jimmie by his arm and link ours together. He almost looks starstruck by his close proximity to the guys.

I need food asap; I hate being hangry.

Though I’m sure I haven’t heard the last of Boston’s mental breakdown about his family name, whatever the hell that means. He is far from a saint, based on how he treats people. How is it okay for him and not for me? Screw him and his double standards.