Room 302 in Beverly Hills High had the best acoustics in the whole building, at least according to Andrew Green. It was anyone’s guess if it were true or not, and really Andy didn’t even think it was. The reality of it was that 302 was tucked in the back corner of the third floor, and no one ever went up there by choice. Andy had been able to secure a key to the room years ago, and he quietly used it as his personal practice space in the mornings and between classes when he managed to sneak away. It was his happy place! The only other person who had a key and wasn’t a staff member was his brother, though Andy was hopeful Ethan wouldn’t bother him this morning. He was in the zone.

He stood in front of a podium at the front of the empty classroom, with his violin tucked behind his neck. Slowly, he plucked at the strings as he found the rhythm of the song. He had heard it a thousand times, maybe even more than a thousand, but hearing wasn’t the same as playing. His brother always called it ‘downloading’ and Andy liked that phrase.

It really did feel like he was downloading the music sometimes! He played the first few notes once, twice, a third time and then it clicked. He had it! His bowstring moved across the violin as his deft fingers slid up and down, pressing down on the different strings to manipulate the instrument to speak the language he wanted it to speak. Quietly, Andy began to sing the lyrics as he played. “I can’t remember anything, can’t tell if this is true or dream…” He did not have a bad voice. Of course he didn’t, his grandmother was the songbird of her generation, but Andy did not sing with his whole chest. He was not offkey, but he wasn’t loud either. There was skill with the way his fingers moved, but his voice was low and almost shaky as he sang and allowed his mind to wander.

“Deep down inside, I feel to scream… this terrible silence stops me…” He shouldn’t have started thinking about things. He got in his own head too often. Andy found himself thinking about the traumatic experience he had, and wondering if he was ungrateful for being so… squishy as a result of something that happened in the past. By birthright, he would have no future problems. He could, and likely would, always get his way. His parents were both in their own way extremely confident individuals. His brother ran the school and would probably run the world when it was all said and done.

So why couldn’t Andy even take control of his own destiny? It was a bit sad, he reasoned, locking himself in a room where no one could hear him so he could practice the music he actually liked in the best way he could: shredding violin covers. In and of itself, that was kind of stupid. He should have had the balls to at least show his family and friends the work he’d done, to show them his passion for music that wasn’t written a hundred years before he was born.

A frown had crept upon his face as he approached the harder part of the song, near the end. Was he pathetic? Maybe, but he wasn’t sure how not to be! Andy wasn’t even able to tell his grandma, who had groomed him carefully for success ever since the incident, that he wanted to show her his covers. How was he supposed to tell her he didn’t even want to play violin? How was he supposed to tell her he wanted to be a rockstar?

He just didn’t have the courage.

Amy Kwon had never met a door that she couldn’t open or a line she couldn’t cross. Before the end of last year, before everything changed, doors just had a habit of opening themselves for her whenever she needed. Hapless members of the student body trying to appeal to her and maybe be acknowledged with a passing word of thanks or, better, a nod of the head as she walked through; now those same people shut the doors in her face like teens running away from a slasher movie villain. But doors were no obstacle for someone with a violent streak and a need to slaughter dumb teenagers and neither were they for someone whose streak ran a little less violent but still as insatiable a lust as blood. But of course, she was getting ahead of herself.

When Amy Kwon walked the halls, she moved in slow motion in the eyes of those not wise enough to turn their heads. The halls of BHHS were like her own personal Red Sea, students parting the way for entirely different reasons than they did when non-pariahs like the Hive walked by. For the populars, students getting out of the way was expected; for Amy, it was out of self preservation. Ever since her big debut at the start of senior year, where she showed up wearing knee high heeled boots and a skirt short enough that simply turning and not moving her leg fast enough would flash onlooking eyes a brief look at the Fruit of Eden, and a top that only technically met the definition of a shirt by way of having holes for head and arms to go through. The disciplinary staff in the slip they gave her said that ‘Strippers had more modesty than Ms. Kwon’s outfit’.

On Pajama Day she wasn’t even allowed to attend class until she went home to change. “I sleep nude, you know.” She was heard saying to the staff that formed a little barricade to protect the eyes of the student body. She didn’t show up naked, of course. She had underwear on. And a short robe. They were silk.

Pushing the envelope and embracing what people thought about her was who Amy was. The pink aegyo princess was dead and the fiery phoenix that turned boys to men and women to jealousy had risen. As was the case today, Amy had little desire to attend class and she had even less to show up at the pep rally later. Who gave a fuck about school pride, about a meaningless football game, about a dance where everyone in attendance was just waiting for it to be over so they could go fumble while putting a condom on and giving someone the most disappointing ride of their life in the backseat of their overpriced ego boosts. She wasn’t even wearing school colors today, but she was wearing black.

As she did most mornings, Amy was wandering the halls like an animalistic predator searching for her meat in the grass. The ones that knew her well knew to give her a wide berth. Those that didn’t would quickly learn that Amy Kwon didn’t chew her food after she finished playing with it: she devoured it whole. As her shoes clacked along the floor, the sound of music wafted to her ears. Well, some would call it music, others would call it the warblings of an instrument beloved only by nerds and those softer than soft serve ice cream. Perfect. The music carried her forward, towards a back corner on the third floor. It grew louder as she came closer, and the singing joined the chorus as Amy licked her deep, perky, ruby red lips. Under her smirk were teeth sharpened to such a fine point that her victims would have their flesh separated from their body as soon as she sank said teeth into them.

Metaphorically, of course.

The door to 302 was locked. But Amy had a bobby pin. And Amy had various skills. No door could keep her out. Or in. The door unlocked after she stimulated the pins and Amy stepped inside, eyes spotting the rabbit in the grass. She’d seen worse. She’d tasted better. But she was hungry. And she was bored. “You shouldn’t be here, little Green. You’re going to be late for class. I didn’t say to stop playing.” Her eyes were narrowed towards Andy as she stood in the doorway, her left leg bent just slightly forward enough to show off more leg under her short, black dress that clung to her body like it was made of leather. “Sing for me.”

When she let herself into the room, Andy immediately came to a halt, with the music stopping abruptly. He knew who was in the room with him, but he wasn’t sure how she’d gotten into the room. “Did you pick the lock?” Did she call him little Green? There were so many questions in his head. It wasn’t even fair to call him the ‘little Green.’ No one ever believed him, but he was almost two inches taller than Ethan was, and he was older too! He did not think Amy would believe him if he said either of those things. Honestly? Andy didn’t think she would go for anything he said. Why was she even here? Would she even answer him?

He didn’t know what to do or say. What would Ethan do in a situation like this? Probably say something cool. Andy had nothing cool to say, and hardly anything interesting to offer. As he stared at her, he dropped his violin to his side and shook his head. “Sing what? I have to know the words.” He tried to deflect as best he could, but he’d never been so close to someone so dangerously attractive before. How was he supposed to act? He felt a burning desire to do what she said, and a smaller voice in the back of his head telling him to tell her to fuck off. Andy had been ignoring that voice for close to decade, and this was no different.

“I’m not really a good singer though.” He said, his eyes darting around the room as he searched for an exit plan. Briefly, he couldn’t help but let his eyes land on her. She really was dangerously attractive. Were there more girls who were that attractive at their school? How could anyone think someone that pretty was a bad girl? Quickly, he put his eyes back on the door.

Unfortunately for Andy, Amy noticed the moment when his eyes wandered just enough to make Amy widen her grin from playful to dangerous. She had spun her little web as soon as she entered the room - of course she had picked the lock - and now the little fly was caught. No escape. No going back. Amy took a single step further into the room, inching her way towards Andy the way a hawk circled its prey before diving in for the kill. “Sing me something romantic. Something that will make my skin shiver in delight. Something that makes a girl want to throw her panties on the stage. Something…sexy.” Every word she spoke was deliberate and every sentence had her stepping closer and closer to Andy. Her tone was like honey but she spoke them like poison; how could something so sweet be so…dangerous?

Andy had never made eye contact with someone for as long as he was holding it with Amy. For a second, his breathing hitched and as his breathing picked up he wondered if he was going to die or have an anxiety attack. Why was she even here!? He locked the door for a reason! It was evil to step inside like this. But he didn’t speak, he just found himself staring at her.

“Don’t think, little Green. Look at me. Look.” She snapped her fingers. The acoustics really were good in this place. “Sing anything that comes to mind when you look at me. Impress me. I’m worth it. Don’t you think?”

In what was considered somewhat groundbreaking for the Green family, Andrew Green had never smoked the devil’s lettuce. And yet, he found himself desperately wanting a joint at that moment. He’d never even been high before, but he’d listened to his father and his brother sing THC’s praises enough that he felt he knew when a puff or seventeen might come in handy. Unfortunately for Andy, when he inhaled, it wasn’t Mary Jane that he took a drag from. It was Amy Kwon, and she smelled… “Whoa. You smell good. Oranges are my favorite.” His cheeks immediately ignited red after he spoke; that was the wrong thing to say from anyone’s perspective he reasoned. He bit his tongue, and wracked his mind looking for songs.

There were a thousand songs about sex. There were a thousand songs about pretty girls. Were there any songs about Amy? He knew so many, yet in that moment it felt like he knew so few. He searched, and searched and he found one. The look of clarity on his face was obvious as he placed the violin on the desk with the sheet music he’d made as an arrangement for One. He went to the supply closet in the room and opened it up, pulling out a guitar case.

This wasn’t really what she asked for, and he knew that. It may not have even been what she wanted. The problem was, the only song he could think of that made him think of Amy wouldn’t work on a violin. “I’m not as practiced on guitar. And please - nevermind.” Andy found himself thinking about warning Amy to not tell his grandma, but then he double guessed himself and figured if he said that to Amy, she might leave. He did not want her to leave under any circumstances. He undid the clasps holding the case closed, and pulled out an acoustic guitar. Only his brother knew about his tendency to practice the instrument, and it had been Ethan’s idea to hide one in the room so he could play it when the mood took him.

And it had taken him. If he were a bit more flowery, he could have said Amy was his muse. He sat down on the desk closest to Amy, carefully placing his feet on the chair to steady himself and brought the guitar to his knee, strumming across the guitar. As he moved his fingers, it took a second for the song to take shape, but this was a song he’d downloaded long ago. When he began the lyrics, it was obvious what the song was.

“Special, you think you’re special, you do
I can see it in your eyes.”

For the first time in his life, Andy tried to sing with his whole chest. It wasn’t easy, but with Amy’s icy gaze and the scent of her orange perfume still in his nostrils, Andy found the motivation to discover the voice he had done his best to hide. Though his eyes darted down to his hands once or twice, he did his best to keep their eyes locked. This was, frankly, the most intimate and sexually charged moment Andy had ever had in his life, and he was more than well aware that anything could fuck it up.

“I can see it when you laugh at me,
Look down on me and walk around on me,
Just one more fight… about your leadership.”

He still wasn’t sure it was the kind of song she wanted, but Andy was singing as best he could - still keeping his voice low enough that prying ears might not hear him. He wasn’t sure he could handle it if more than one person were here when he sang.

Amy would be lying if she said she was familiar with the song, but in truth the song itself didn’t matter; what mattered was that Andy Green had known Amy for all of a few minutes and was already willing to serenade her at the snap of a finger. What mattered was that Andy Green behaved. They all behaved. The ones who thought they could turn the page and control Amy were boring. Chest pounding brutes, foot tapping bitches, a legion of losers who thought they could be Captain Saveaho by trying to exert a little social media domination and get Amy on her knees instead of on top where she was comfortable. Amy Kwon didn’t need to be saved. Amy Kwon didn’t want to be saved.

How long would this toy last, she wondered. He didn’t seem as… hardy as some of her other toys, but considering the name that came with this one it was like finding something valuable in mint condition. Little Andy Green… whisper the right words in his ears, give him an intoxicating scent… Amy could utterly ruin this boy and he’d thank her for doing it. The thought alone kept the smile and knowing, narrowed eyes aimed in his direction; he probably thought she was smiling for the song but the only sounds she was hearing were the future cries as Andy experienced a taste of heaven.

It sounded like bedsprings.

“You look better with a guitar than a violin.” Amy spoke as the song tapered off. “Your fingers must be…talented…to make the strings dance like that.” Amy was done being subtle. She draped a hand on Andy’s shoulder, standing just beside him but still standing over him. Her head was lowered and tilted, filling his nostrils with more of that perfume he so clearly liked the smell of. Who knew the devil on the shoulder wore Chanel Coco Mademoiselle? “Do you want to duet with me… little Green?” A deadly whisper, like a viper moments away from sticking its venomous fangs into the throat.

“He doesn’t,” Ethan sharply cut in, hearing the music at the end of the hall and knowing exactly who was playing it. He was the one who knew his brother’s secret and it was Ethan who heard his brother practice. No one else. He stood under the door casing not liking what he was seeing at all. His nostrils flared and his jaw tightened, all while he cracked his knuckles. Amy Kwon had her reputation and it was hard to deny the evidence that clearly showed she was not a good person. His brother didn’t need to be involved with someone malicious and cruel as Amy Kwon and Ethan doubted she was here with good intention. His twin was too inept in the social scene to see that he was prey and he was standing next to someone that wanted to kill him slowly but kill him no less.

Maintaining eye contact, his shoulders tensed, the Alpha of the Elite stormed deeper into the room, approaching his twin and the unexpected acquaintance Andy was making. “Get your hands off of him,” Ethan growled, hovering over the girl, clearly in defense and keeping his attention on his brother. He went from the she-devil to his literal other half. “Andy, seriously. Don’t listen to her. She’s a bitch trying to take you down with her and the last thing you need is to get stuck in a cage with a tiger.” Maybe, just maybe, that analogy would get Andy to think twice. He hoped so because the last thing Ethan Green wanted to do was touch… the devil herself.

“I wasn’t asking you.” Amy hissed towards Ethan without even looking in his direction. Ethan was a nuisance, a distraction, interference on the hunt and unfortunately for Amy it seemed the only thing he cared more about than hooking up with naive girls with loose lips was protecting his brother. The hand on Andy’s shoulder remained firmly in place, gripping a little tighter like her fingers were staking a claim, planting a flag of intent so Ethan would know that this wouldn’t be the end of things. Not if she had her way - and Amy Kwon always had her way in the end. “You can leave now, Ethan. I’m sure you have an STD test to take or something. Maybe a girl to disappoint for three minutes. Run along. Your brother is fine where he is.”

Her attention remained on Andy and a single finger traced from his shoulder up towards his jawline. Amy’s breath was hot on Andy’s skin, a deliberate heat that swam with the residual scent of her perfume. She wanted to intoxicate him with her very being, to make him so drunk on Amy that the only thing he would want was another hit. A single taste. “Isn’t that right, little Green?”

“You’re digging your fingers into my shoulder.” Andy was sensing a lot of tension between his brother and Amy. He wasn’t dense, he knew that Amy didn’t have a good reputation, but he was confused that someone had such a bad reputation his brother didn’t want to interact with them. The tiger comparison, Andy thought, was a little harsh. He threw his shoulder back a bit in an attempt to get Amy’s hand off of his shoulder and it didn’t budge - her fingers just tightened.

Was she for real? Amy was the last person to be talking about STDS. And why was his brother being so… fuck, his parents really did a number on him. No one would think they’re actually twins because there was nothing cool about Andrew Green at all. He was such a nerd. “Bitch please, your vagina has been used more than Google.” Ethan really did not want to put his hands on a girl, even if she was demonic and a whore and evil. His parents taught him that it doesn’t matter how much a girl makes you angry, don’t fucking put your hands on them unless there is consent. At a standstill, the twin took a step back to give the two breathing room. The only person that can actively do something in this moment was shrinking in his seat at the sheer power this girl exuded. Ethan took a deep breath in. He needed to change his method. Exhaling, he apologized, “...Sorry that was uncalled for. Please, can you give me a moment with my brother?” Ethan Green wanted to die.

Amy couldn’t help but to widen her smirk, her eyes flicking once towards Ethan before trailing back to her preferred prey. She didn’t even have to do anything and Ethan Green was saying please. To her. To the she-devil on campus. “I bet that took effort, Ethan. Asking a girl ‘please’. Don’t worry. I won’t tell.” Amy released her grip on Andy and placed her palm on his back, gently nudging him towards Ethan. “Go on, then. Take him. But we both know I’m all he’ll be thinking about. All. Day. Long.” Her words were spoken to Ethan, but they were whispered into Andy’s ear. A parting gift for Andy and a threat for Ethan.

It wasn’t until Amy stopped digging her fingers into Andy’s shoulder that he realized how much he liked it. He took a step forward when she pushed him forward but it was clear even from the way he moved that he was disappointed in the way things were ending up. There was not a lot he could say or do, all he could do was try and make sure that he didn’t forget the scent of her perfume. After he stopped being nudged forward, and was standing beside his brother, Andy spun around to look at Amy and blurted.

“You’re coming to our party, right?”

Ethan grumbled when Andy offered to invite the succubi. Even if he wanted to protest, this was actually a huge milestone for his older brother. Andy was inviting a girl to a party. He was going to have a date. He might get laid. It would be wrong for Ethan to ruin this when all he wanted was his brother to have confidence and for some reason, he was finding it in Amy. Begrudgingly, Ethan followed his brother’s lead, “Tomorrow, after the dance, we’ll have transport ready. It’s at our family’s vineyard. Theme, Risky Business.” He paused for a moment to look at his brother, hoping there was a sign of disgust, or fear, but all he saw in his eyes was how in lust Andy was already with this girl.

Fuck.

Teeth clenched, the King of the school added, “We… would love you to come… and if you like, you can…” He was going to regret this. He definitely was. But Andy was happy. Andy was making progress. Andy was… relaxed. “Ride with us.” At this moment, Ethan could only think about his mom and wondered if she had sound advice for this situation. He doubted it, but still. He wanted to talk to his mom.

An eyebrow raised as Amy listened to the Brothers Green, her perfect poker face unbreaking in the moment. How was it that Ethan came into the music room calling her a bitch and a tiger but now he was practically rolling out the red carpet for her? The way to Ethan was clearly through Andy - an unexpected but certainly welcome side effect. “I’ll be there.” Even if she hadn’t been directly invited, Amy had a wonderful habit of showing up even when she wasn’t invited. “We can talk about that…duet then, little Green.” Even if Andy was leaving with his brother, Amy was confident that her little fly was stuck deeper in the web. Fine. That was fine.

The best meals were the ones you savored.

Her hunt properly interrupted, but certainly not ruined, Amy offered a parting shrug of her shoulders and began the uncomfortably long walk back into the hallway. She didn’t look back at either Ethan or Andy as she walked past and opened the door. She knew that if she did, she would’ve seen Andy leering at her. Possibly Ethan as well. That thought alone helped her maintain that dangerous, ruby lipped smirk as she departed the room, the brothers free of her miasma for the immediate moment.

After he’d watched her leave the room, biting down on his bottom lip the entire time, Andy let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Hey, Ethan.” He asked, finally directly addressing his brother. Andy had no idea what he was doing; he didn’t know what Amy was going to be like, but for the first time in his life, Andrew Green had caught himself thinking with the wrong head. He figured it had something to do with the orange scents she wore. He ran a hand through his hair, and asked the question that had been burning in his mind ever since Ethan had joined the room, “do you have any weed?”

He paused, and then meekly added. “Why did she keep calling me ‘little?’ Doesn’t she know I’m taller than you are?”

Weed was a fantastic idea. Ethan needed weed too after that. “In my locker.” He turned his head toward his twin and furrowed his eyebrows. With a baffled expression, he asked, “You serious right now?” It was rhetorical. He knew Andy was being serious. His older twin was too naive. Too innocent. Too good. “You’re so fucked, bro. Come on, let’s go. Maybe we have enough time to smoke.” He looked at his watch; they didn’t. The bell would go off in five, four, three, two…

The second warning bell went off.

“I mean if you want to skip homeroom, I’m down.” Would his brother agree? Well, if he was into Amy, this could mean a new era for Andy Green. It was 50/50 right now but maybe Andy would live a little. Only time could tell. Unfortunately for Stella, Ethan had his phone on silent so he didn’t see his text from her.

“What? I’ve never done that before. What if Dad gets mad?” Andy asked, turning his head to look at Ethan. After a moment’s thought, he felt like he’d figured it out already. “Dad doesn’t care does he?” He shook his head, and reminded himself of Amy’s voice and the feeling of her breath on his neck and it breathed life to the embers of confidence he’d gained that morning.

“Screw it, let’s skip homeroom.”

Ethan smiled. Internally, his gut was telling him this, meaning Andy and Amy, would be nothing but a disaster, but right now, as they strode out the room and down the hall, none of that mattered. Andy was carrying himself differently and Ethan liked seeing his brother assertive for once, and certain of himself. Greens were all about taking risks and finally Andy was taking them.

“Hell to the yeah! Let’s smoke some weed bro!”

The Brothers Green would not make it to homeroom today.

There weren’t many things to be thankful for with a move halfway across the country, but one of the advantages was that the biological clock often took a while to adjust itself, and led to earlier wake-up times being easier to handle. It’s why ever since Savannah Payton arrived in her new stomping grounds of Beverly Hills she was able to get up for school at a time she could easily manage. It was still 8:30 am in Austin. Not that she didn’t loathe having to be productive so early, but when one doesn’t have the choice of determining when they wake up, among other things, it becomes tolerable.

By now her routine was pretty simple. With her mom preferring to sleep in, and Chris going off to the office bright and early to try and deal with the traffic, Savannah was left to her own devices to prepare for the day as she saw fit. Right now, that was harder to do than when she first arrived from Texas. Word had gotten out that when you wanted the good shit, be it marijuana, pills or alcohol, Savannah and the PLC always had the hookup. People put money into her pockets and got what they needed. She earned her Payout moniker in Texas, but it spread even quicker here. That meant the money was already coming in at a speedier rate than it did when she was working with Chapolita, and that suited her just fine.

She even had a vehicle to work with in California. While she wasn’t all that thrilled with the Sorrento her step-father decided to bestow upon her, it did have a lot of space. Both obvious and not so obvious. Anything she didn’t want to be seen easily got hidden in some of the hollow spaces of the Korean SUV. No one searching her car without a warrant was going to find anything. Savannah was certain of that.

It was a much quieter ride to school than usual. Of her assembled PLC regulars, only one wanted a lift today. Everly usually went to the school even earlier than Savvy did, intent on grinding the jumps at the park that served as their primary office. The skater girl was determined to nail tricks at a 100% rate, the kind of dedication Savannah respected in her right-hand woman. Ever since Miss Rigby joined the Crew, it was clear she was inspired to better herself in more ways just on the board. Whether that was her own self-realized action plan or Payout actually managed to have a positive influence on someone was not of her concern. The girl worked her butt off and it was appreciated.

The usual source of the noise in the back seat came from one of the most crucial members of the PLC, but Addie wasn’t on board either. The supplier of the best-selling product that Payout had to offer, the hypersonic Addie was always bursting with enough energy to power the Sorrento on a jaunt to Vegas and back. However, she was also absent from proceedings, with the only message sent to the PLC WhatsApp chat being “PANCAKES!!!” before she was unreachable. Every crew needed a livewire after all. Tesla was that member in Austin. Seemed like every time that girl wanted to do something, she’d put her foot down on the accelerator pedal and it would get stuck there. That was Addie here.

Which left the lone occupant of the backseat, the black sheep of Beverly Hills High. At least that’s what she’ll tell you. Nevaeh Morgan was well known for a fall from grace so spectacular the Russian judge had no choice but to give it a 10. The former cheerleader was a pariah following her brief stint in a juvenile correction facility. She was abandoned by her former plastic friends, excommunicated from her fellow drug runners, and left to drift along her remaining year and a half of high school. Right into Savannah’s arms.

Neveah was slow to open up to the Texan after Savannah spotted her skulking about the parking lot that June afternoon. Tough to miss a girl wandering around the California sunshine dressed in all black. However, once the shadow started to reveal bits of herself to the pink-blonde who didn’t shoo her away, what happened to her that left her such an outcast, Savvy couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Another survivor of the “justice” system, only she had so much more to lose when it happened. It allowed for an empathy that was foreign to Savannah at the time, but now proved very useful. Just as Nevaeh would.

It was the Morgan girl who linked Savannah up with Addie, Nevaeh being well acquainted with ADD on the outskirts of the popular cliques. That gave Savannah an opening with the specialty strains the botanical genius was cooking up. It was that success that got the attention of the rival Stratton cartel to the point where she convinced Everly that there was a better path than tailing the twins, who already proved they couldn’t be trusted to watch your back. Nevaeh backed up Savannah with words rarely heard at the time, and rarely heard since. In essence, there is no PLC without the Strattons casting out this… surprisingly well-built goth girl. Maybe that's why they were so pissed off.

But Nevaeh still kept to herself for the most part, the gigantic black headphones latched onto her head like a protective vice to keep her placated with the latest episode of whatever podcast she was listening to, getting her through school, lifting sessions, 10-minute breaks at the Cheesecake Factory, whatever she needed. Her obsession for the past couple of months was Midnight Frequency, a serial podcast blending music and mystery out of Boston that adorned the tank top she wore underneath her jet-black cardigan, the same one that was wrapping up another episode as Savannah arrived at BHHS.



It was easy for the goth girl to adhere to the dress code of the day, black being all she seemed to wear, but Savannah, rebel that she was, refused, sporting a blue crop under that bulky leather jacket that she was so reluctant to give up no matter the weather. Besides, it was October, it was technically getting colder. The ripped black leggings and dark combat boots were the only things that might have counted as showing some Pirates pride, but in reality, Savannah didn’t care. This was just a place she had to be in for another year. Then? Who knows?

The Sorrento pulled into the parking lot of BHHS and Savannah quickly spotted Everly’s board rolling up an incline, although Everly wasn’t on it at the moment. Was it another wipeout? She couldn’t tell. “Shit, let’s go see how busted up Ev is this time,” she commented, unsure if Nevaeh heard her over the synth-pop in her ears, but Payout hopped out of the vehicle, bag in tow, and the dark-haired Morgan girl followed.

As the Sorrento beeped closed and Payout approached the park, she finally shouted down, “Ev, you nail any of those tricks yet or are they just nailin’ your back?”

There was probably no other student at Beverly Hills High School who spent more time on her back than Everly Rigby. Even before the staff begrudgingly allowed for the construction of a mini skate-park rather than adding another extension for more parking spaces on school grounds, Everly was hitting her ass on the sidewalk, the asphalt, grass, even into a filled pool a few times. It came with the territory of being more comfortable on a board with four wheels than her own two feet. She could do simple tricks with the best of them, kickflips, ollies, board slides, but no one was ever truly interested in someone who could only do the basics and if Everly wanted to do anything with a skateboard…then she would have to deal with falling on her ass and getting back up. No one ever accomplished anything without working hard for it. Well, other than the elite kids of gajillionaires that went to school here. But the good thing about rich kids? They always needed what the PLC provided.

If Everly’s fiercely political parents knew that their daughter was, effectively, part of a drug empire, they would likely ship her off to the military to learn discipline or secretly hope she got killed or incarcerated for going AWOL, but Everly never sought out to get involved in the wild world of supplying and dealing illicit substances for students and the teachers who the PLC totally promised to keep secret - it just sorta happened. The Strattons just kind of adopted her when they saw her trying to break her own record for manualing. At the time, Everly needed three things: friends, a support system, and someone to help her step out of the closet publicly. The Strattons provided enough of the three to make Everly shrug and go along with them. It wasn’t until Savannah came around that Everly realized that the only one who thought she and the Strattons were friends was Everly. The PLC provided Everly with what she needed, and not just the pocket change from their little empire.

Everly was often one of the first ones at school in the mornings, not because she had morning sports practice or morning tutoring, she just didn’t want to hang out at home. She often didn’t sleep at home if she could avoid it and when she did, she entered her bedroom by climbing in through the window rather than risk the verbal berating that would happen if her parents saw her walking through the front door. But every morning, at least every weekday morning, Everly was at the parking lot skate park, wheels down, hair blowing in the wind, helmet only sometimes on her head. It didn’t matter if all she did before school hours was fail the same trick a hundred times, if she nailed it once then she was golden. For someone who was dangerously close to flunking out of high school, it was almost shocking how diligent and focused Everly could be with skating.

Today was, of course, no exception. Progress was slow but she was wiping out much less on the backward rotation this time. She was feeling good as she dropped in but the confidence faltered as she came down in an awkward landing on the first take off the ramp. Everly was on her back again, and it was only now that she was looking up at the sky that she noticed it was lighter now than it had been since the last time she bothered taking a break. How long had she been going? Had to at least be an hour and a half, maybe more. School would be starting soon but Everly would still be here. She wasn’t even following the theme of the day other than her jeans being black. Her shirt was a white t-shirt with a pink logo and her baseball cap was purple with the CR logo of the Colorado Rockies. School spirit was for people who would look back on high school as their peak and if Everly ever thought high school was the best part of her life then she’d probably hate herself more than she hated her parents.

The familiar voice of Savannah caused Everly to raise her left hand in a thumbs-up before she rose to a seated position. “You just missed it, dude. I got it twice this morning already. And I didn’t get it like forty times, but hey, I’m not bein’ graded on this so I only fail if I give up.” For the moment, Everly remained sitting but her attention was on her partners in crime. Her friends. And then she stood, brushing her pants with her hands and leaving the comfort of the skate park for the asphalt of the parking lot if only because it was uncool to make friends shout at each other so early in the morning.

“Shit, I’m not missin’ a business meeting or anything am I?” It wouldn’t have been the first time Everly was late for one of those. “Shit, Nev’s wired in again, huh? We gotta get her some AirPods or something. Anyway, what’sup, Sav? Adds didn’t come in with you?”

A laugh was the first thing out of Savannah’s lips as she heard Everly go off. Everly Rigby was never one to be concerned with marks or anything that wasn’t related to her own goals and ambitions. Once she was set free of the Strattons’ influence, it was clear she was more than happy to focus on what gave her fulfillment, and that was one of the things Savannah liked about her. Sure, when they initially met it may have only been on Nevaeh’s tip that Everly could offer a clearer picture of what the Toxic Twins were doing, but once she got to know the skateboarder, she saw more there. It was a refreshing change of pace after a month of watching Nev’s thoughts on the student body at large hold true.

“Nah, no meetin’,” Payout assured Ev. “Not ‘til after class. That’s when everyone’s gonna be lookin’ for that extra bit of school spirit ahead of the game. That’s what we gotta be ready for. Glad you’re hittin’ that five percent land rate on the trick though. You’ll get double that by the end of the week for sure.”

Savannah was also happy to see that Ev was embracing her own style and not dressed in red. That was one of the biggest things that annoyed her about this school. Everything was so cliquey, everyone had to be their own special specific thing, together as one. It sickened her. At least in the TCJCF, it was done out of survival. Maybe it was here, but the stakes were so far under what the other students here made it to be. That’s one of the things that she liked about her current crew. They crossed the various thresholds of the school. An outlaw, a skater, a goth and a brain. So close to a Lesbian Breakfast Club. Her mom loves that movie.

“I tried to get holda Addie, but ya know how that girl is. She is fuckin’ free-wheelin’ at all times. I think she got some breakfast? All she texted me was pancakes, so I dunno what that girl’s on. ‘N ya know I ain’t gettin’ Nev to ditch the cans. I told her before that she don’t need them giant things, but she wants the immersion.” Savannah turned around and pulled one of the cups off the black-haired girl’s head. “Hey Nev!”

The goth girl snapped out of her podcast-induced trance. “Hmmm?”

“Ya got anythin’ ta say to Ev before we check-in to class?”

Nevaeh thought for a second before finally uttering. “Not really. Hi Ev. Skateboarding looks good. Maybe we can have another lesson.”

Savannah shook her head and put the headphone back down. The Texan had no idea what Nevaeh was really like before Savannah arrived, but if reports were any indication, she would have been far more excited for today’s game. Also, she would be saying more than 12 words in a conversation. The Twitter handle and the few pictures that escaped deletion bore out that she once was a cheerleader, but now? Cheerbleeder was more accurate. She still wanted to be in class though, worried that any marks against her that were blatantly obvious would result in another lock-up. It made sense to Sav. Couldn’t make any money if you weren’t there to let the people know what they had. Still, it would be nice if she could get some talking out of Nevaeh that didn’t make her feel like Miss Morgan was operating on a character count.

“Anyway, just checkin’ in witcha. You know I like to keep you up to date on everythin’, so we’ll just meet back here after class ‘n start gettin’ the word out to our usual sources that we are open. I’d like to sell everythin’ before this big shindig I hear is in the works on the weekend.”

There was a big party over the weekend? Of course there was. There were parties all the time, it was exhausting how often rich kids liked to get together and party, though fortunately the big ones were often focused on big events: holidays, school events, the birthday parties of the crusted gunk in the grooves of a shoe that were the Hive Five and the Elite. Typical enough. As far as Everly knew, the only thing happening this weekend was the Homecoming dance. "Shit.” The Homecoming dance. Everly didn’t have a ticket but she also didn’t have a date and there was absolutely no way that she could ask Her to go; Everly was pretty sure that She already had a date, probably had one before tickets were even on sale. Was this the kind of shit Everly missed out on by ditching class?

"Wait, what party?” Though her thoughts were still on the fact that she once again missed out on a chance to tell Her how she felt, Everly was chill enough to focus on the important thing. A party. She didn’t know if she was invited but that hadn’t stopped her before. "We’re gonna wanna hold a sale or something. Fancy parties means some of these dudes are gonna want more than just dimes and nickels. I’m seein’ green in our future. Not, like, you know, weed but, like, cash. Cash green. You get it.” Business was potentially good on a day like this. Sure, people could go to a store but the PLC prided themselves on quality as well as quantity, not to mention convenience which could not be understated.

"On an unrelated note, and feel free to answer too if you want, Nev, but you thinkin’ of going to Homecoming? I know it’s kinda lame, it’s a school dance and all, but I mean..” Everly shrugged. She had no idea where her train of thought was going when she started and the destination remained cloudy even as she spoke. "So…anyway…big day for us today, then.”

Savannah looked at Everly for a second. The Homecoming dance was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. Too many teachers there who didn’t know what was happening on the side. Too many snobs among the revelers who liked to stick their noses in where they didn’t belong. There wasn’t a lot attracting her to that sort of thing. There was no money to be made.

But if it meant something to Everly… it had to, otherwise she wouldn’t be asking. Savannah tried to think about what it really could be. If she thought about anything other than the business for one second… It was tough to do that. The business succeeding meant survival, and survival was the name of the game back in Texas. Here, there wasn’t a dogfight just to get through every day. Could it mean she could take the time to just try and do something for the sake of doing it?

That still sounded kinda sappy in her mind.

“I dunno, Ev. I mean, I’ve never been one for all the fancy dos and such. I always end up stickin’ out like a sore thumb. Between the height ‘n the hair and all? It’s why I didn’t end up goin’ to prom last year either. Not much point in me showin’ up for only two months of bein’ here.” She looked over at the still-silent partner and lifted up the cup again. “What’cha reckon, Nev? You want to go to the Homecomin’ dance?”

Nevaeh thought for a second before sliding the rest of the headphones off her head. “If you had asked me six months ago, I would have said no. I didn’t go to prom either.”

“I remember. Think I found ya skulkin’ around the setup for that blowfest. That’s when we got ta talkin’ about things.”

“Right, so I wouldn’t have gone then. But now? Things are going well. We should have a night to enjoy ourselves. I still have some sleeveless dresses I would fit into. I would go.”

Savannah was a bit stunned by this admission from the excommunicated cheerleader. “Really? Shit, I thought at least you would be a dissentin’ vote. ‘N I know Addie by now, if she were here, she’d be sayin’ something like ‘Addie goes where she pleases, and everywhere needs Addie, so that means Addie is goin’ to Homecomin’!’ Or somethin’ like that.” She looks down and shakes her head before turning back to Everly. “I guess I can’t leave y’all to go without me. Fine, I’d do it if all the PLC is goin’.”

“Hey, look at the bright side. If it sucks we can just bail and go do something fun.” Everly wasn’t showing excitement, but internally she was happy; sure it meant having to raid her mom’s closet for something and yeah the music would probably be lame and the majority of the people even lamer…but the PLC would take a hell of a Homecoming photo…and maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that Everly could score a slow dance with Her. The window of opportunity to do something about the unbearable weight of having a crush so out of reach that She might as well have been on fucking Jupiter was closing by the day and the only thing worse to Everly than getting rejected was not doing anything about it at all. Why could Everly wipe out on a skateboard and get back up a thousand times but the idea of asking a certain girl to dance seemed like the most impossible task in the world?

“I’ll text Adds and tell her we’re goin’. And to have her tell Belmonte that I attended.” Everly was, of course, not going to go to homeroom. It was senior year, who wanted to be bogged down in going to class? “You two headin’ to class? Nerds.” Sometimes, Everly’s comments made her giggle. This was one of those times. “Save me a seat at lunch, though, yeah?”

“Yeah, but you know my idea of fun don’t involve bein’ in a dress, Ev,” Payout confirmed. “But fine. And yeah, Nev don’t need the absences, and honestly, neither do I. When you ain’t showin’, that’s when questions get asked. Least people here know where you are. But yeah, see ya out here for lunch, amiga.” She snapped her fingers at her homeroom classmate. “All right, Nev, let’s go make appearances. And thanks again for havin’ my back on that topic.”

Nevaeh smiled, those black lips standing out on her face even with the tanned skin around it. “You’re welcome, Sav.” Her headphones slid back on over her ears and she followed Payout as the two made their way to class, leaving Everly alone with her dreams of a 15% hit rate on that new trick.

The girls waved in the direction of Decky and little Danny until they walked past the point of sight, knowing the younger boy would be keeping an eye out for them until he couldn’t anymore. Sin still had her arm around Monarch’s shoulder, dragging the smaller girl along with zero complaint from her victim. Monarch understood Sin’s need to deliver her love in a strong manner as an aunt who grew up with her nephews, and as the youngest sibling in her home Monarch was more than used to heavy handed steering and withstanding random weight changes when she was leaned on. Grumbling still about Decky leaving before she could snag a blunt off of him, the blonde pulled out her phone partway through the walk to the back and began to scroll through her contacts until she came across Tally-ho!.

To: Tally-ho!
U here? Back entrance sesh, green for green~

There, short and simple. Either Tally would show up somewhat quickly with weed for her to buy or Sin would just have to suffer for a day. She dropped her phone into her front pocket and pulled Monarch in close, squishing their cheeks together which caused the other to have to adjust her glasses once more. Rolling her eyes, the busy bee put her hand up between their faces and gently but firmly pushed Sin’s face away so that she didn’t almost knock her glasses off for the third time today.

“I think you need to get laid,” Monarch said honestly while Sin looked at her in offense. “No seriously, I love the physical affection an’ all but you know it ain’t gonna be me so-”

“I just got laid like a week ago, are you sayin’ I’m desperate?” Sin asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, challenging her friend as they rounded the corner to the back entrance. “I mean I could literally get that taken care of in a few minutes if my text pans out so-”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Sin. Besides,” She added playfully, “You’re desperate for other reasons,” with that Monarch took off like a shot, laughing as Sin sputtered and chased after her. Unfortunately for the blonde, Monarch was faster on both her feet and her board, so she reached the entrance just a bit before the other and yanked the door open, stumbling in and falling to the ground with Sin landing on top of her as she caught her in a tackle. Her glasses went flying but Monarch started laughing, sprawled out on the school floor as Sin sat up but didn’t get up, keeping her friend pinned to the floor with arms crossed.

“That was just rude, you butterfly brat,” Sin said just as Monarch’s giggles cut off abruptly, prompting her to look down at her longtime friend. Monarch was stock still on the ground, head turned to her right where she could see the fuzzy blur of pristine white and black sneakers and baggy red sweatpants sticking out from under the stairwell, and could hear the faintest, breathiest cries from one of the last girls she expected. Sin, in an attempt to see what her friend was seeing, shifted from where she was sitting on Monarch’s butt to keep her down, dropped her knees down on either side of her friend’s waist and let herself fall forward until she was almost level with the girl underneath her, tilting her head until her hair fanned down onto the other’s head.

“Trixie?” Monarch asked, squinting her eyes to see the person beyond the blur, still on the floor and unfazed by her friend’s nosy actions atop her. Monarch knew Trixie as well as she knew anyone in the school, but she and Trixie, along with Jamie, had a special relationship only in the sense that Monarch was an amazing info broker and the Salt & Truth co-hosts paid and reciprocated well. They never tied her down as their source, not that they could if they wanted to, but something she respected about them was that they knew to not even try. She appreciated good intuition. She tilted her head, a bit of a task since she was still trapped beneath Sin, silently asking her friend to get off her so she could do what she needed.

“Oh,” Sin put simply, scrambling off and crawling forward a bit to grab Monarch’s glasses and hand them back to the smallest girl. Monarch sat up and scooched closer to the third girl under the stairs, putting her glasses back on while crossing her legs now that she was in front of Trixie. Sin, terrible in situations of comfort, awkwardly pulled out her phone and turned her back on the two in a mock of privacy, sending Tallulah Stratton an additional text. If she was going to have to deal with this before class?

To: Tally-ho
More than usual.

Fuck.

Beatrix didn’t pay attention to the time. Hell, she could barely see where she was and where she found herself hiding. All she could feel in this moment was the aftershock processing through her body. It wasn't a great feeling. Gingerly, she pulled her head off her knees, her makeup running down her face, to meet the concerned eyes of her classmate. Someone she adored but she would never outright tell her that to her face. It wasn’t until she could clock that her hands were shaking from being in the state of fear that she knew she was in trouble. Trixie wasn’t as strong as she presented herself. They’d believe it was all false pretense. Trixie knew she really had fallen, just like Theo said, and now it was time to do her best and clean up her mess; the little they asked, the better off she’ll be. She didn’t need anyone airing out her dirty laundry, especially a girl who was a human computer full of confidential files.

Wiping under her eyes, trying her best to clean the eyeliner smudges, she softly apologized, “Sorry…” Her voice didn’t have as much passion, sass and firmness as it usually has. Her voice was uncertain. Scared. Unlike her. “I’ll give you your spot back. Just a moment please.” She didn’t intend to be here. Rarely did Trixie find herself in one of the smokers' spots. She had no need to, she didn’t smoke. But with her flight response activated her legs just naturally took her here because it was the last place anyone that was in her circle would find her. The last place Theo would expect her to be. The last place she even saw herself in. Anxious but trying her best to hide it, Trixie patted her pants pocket and sighed in relief. At least she had her phone.

“That wasn’t my goal,” Monarch answered honestly, looking the girl up and down as she tried to fix her makeup. Shaking, tears, soft voice, lack of eye contact. Confusion, embarrassment, fear. Fear did not fit Beatrix Kingsley. Monarch didn’t like it. “I just wanted to see if you were okay, and I don’t think you are right now,” She grabbed her hair scarf from her backpack and handed it over to the other girl so she could properly wipe her eyes. Sin glanced over her shoulder at the two girls. “You can get that messy, I have my ponytail wrap for the ride home so I wasn’t usin’ that today. Sin can fix your makeup if you want help, but I don’t really use it too much.”

“Volunteer me again today, why don'tcha.”

“I will, thanks,” Monarch replied, mimicking Decky from earlier.

Hesitantly, Trixie grabbed the scarf and dabbed her cheeks. “No, no it’s fine. I just need to get my bags and I can clean myself up. It’s really not a big deal.” Retreating emotionally, Trixie forced the fear to the back burner, down her throat and to the pit of her stomach, so she could find a prompt exit plan from this situation and act like this morning never happened. To be honest, she was strongly considering taking another sick day. Adjusting herself, she pushed herself up and stood tall. While not smiling, her tears had stopped. This was unbecoming of her and if anything unexpected like this were to happen again, hopefully, she would be more prepared, ready to fight and not shirtless. Trixie offered her hand for Monarch to grab, letting a tired smile grow on her face. “Thank you though, I appreciate the check up,” she assured.

Monarch accepted the hand up but didn’t release it once she’d gotten there, going the extra step to cover Trixie’s hand with her other. She wasn’t keeping her there, the other girl could easily remove herself from her grasp if she so wished, but Monarch was giving her a grounding point. She’d done it plenty of times, even more so since Decky and Sin moved out to California too and suddenly there were two flighty, emotional isolationists to deal with and no Poppy James or Charlie Decker to level them out. At least she had little Danny to help her with them, and she’ll occasionally message the two friends of Decky and Sin’s quartet that are still back in Oregon when she doesn’t know how to deal with them.

“You look like you need’a smoke a blunt more than just walk away. I’m sure your shit’ll be there, or at the lost ‘n’ found,” Sin gave her two cents, raising her eyebrow at Monarch as if asking, ’What?’ when the more socially aware of the two gave her a look over her shoulder.

“I know you don’t smoke, Trixie,” Monarch clarified, more for Sin’s sake than anything. “But if Sin’s plug stops by, since we ain’t got nothin’ right now, you’re more than welcome to try. She didn’t say it well but she’s right, you gotta relax a bit before headin’ out, not just bottle up an’ go. Do that and you never know when those emotions from whatever happened will rear their ugly heads again. You also don’t have to smoke just to stay, I’m sayin’ it would be appreciated if you stuck around so I really knew you were actually okay.”

“Well well.” A siren called from behind the glimmering sunlight. The voice was raspy and oozing sensuality. From the parking lot, Tallulah Stratton arrived looking every bit like the succubus she proudly claimed herself to be. Dressed in a figure hugging red dress and spiked leather jacket, Tally looked like she’d just stepped off the set of a goth rock music video rather than dressed for school. Her bright orange hair was illuminated like a naked flame by the high California sun and her skin shone enticingly with a smooth and soft glow. Tally Stratton was dynamite and she knew it. “Having an orgy and not inviting me? Tsk tsk.”

She tipped her sunglasses down the bridge of her pierced nose and with pale blue eyes she surveyed the congregation at the church of her feet. Sin and Monarch were no strangers to her; if anything they were two of Tally’s best customers. The third vixen though; also not a stranger but not someone she expected to see in this location; Trixie Kingsley. She has been close to her cousin Theo once, hell in another life they could’ve been friends or even sisters. Lucky for Trixie though, hells favourite harlot could give town flying fucked about her cousin’s personal life. She and Lex were toxic sure but Theo was fucking crazy.

Tallulah took a step into the shade, slapping Sin on her perky rear end and resting her hand there as she did before booping Monarch’s nose with her free hand. “Hey button.” She purred before turning her attention to the girl at the center of it all. “I come bearing gifts. How much do you want?”

Sin had been smirking since she saw Tally's fiery orange hair in the sun outside the foyer door, feeling a bit of excitement not just from the prospect of actually being able to get this smoke session going but from having Tally around as well. Tally was one of the few people that could handle the way Sin plays, and she was of the even fewer that played back. Add on that she and her twin were a wonderful source of more than just some weed, and Sin had truly found her match. She enjoyed releasing control to the other in a way she hadn't with any of her previous relationships or hook up, in fact Tally was the first one to flip that switch in her, and had anyone else approached her with such confidence and dominance she would have had them on their ass on the ground immediately. Not many would say that they went to the abrasive girl to feel relaxed or free and not be talking about the product she provided, but Sin could easily admit that Tally is the most fun she's had since coming to BH.

Because she could, and because the actual question was being deferred to Trixie- funny considering she didn't smoke according to Monarch- Sin took Tally's resting hand and slid it up and into her back pocket before leaning on the taller girl. Monarch’s tease about her needing to get laid may have been right, she may have been interested in seeing Tally more often than usual, but she was here now with her physical attention on her and that's what matters. It was a casual relationship, just like all the ones that were meant to last; it was when Sin let people put labels on what they were doing that suddenly the way she played around became a problem.

No way she was becoming a problem for the best lay she'd ever had.

This was turning out to be more lively than Trixie had expected. Not only did Monarch suggest she smoke a blunt, knowing well enough she never tried, but her brother, Noah, smoked so much that she felt like someone had to just not. She couldn’t tell if he did it because he was depressed or because he just liked to smoke. She couldn’t judge him though since he did make bread, via streaming and seemed happy. How he chooses to use his freetime is his own business. Her mother made it seem that weed warps your mind, just as much as any drug, so maybe there was a mild fear of trying it because of that. Trixie didn’t know any of these girls ‘side for Monarch, and didn’t know if she could trust them. What if one blunt turned into two or three blunts and she became an addict? What if it took her away from her productivity? What if she never left her room because all she did was smoke and play games? Sorry, Noah.

Even with all these questions, Trixie did find herself curious and looking at Theo’s cousin, which only reminded her why she needed to chill. It wasn’t like it was booze and she’d start opening up about things she didn’t want anyone to know. It was weed. How bad could it be? Worst case, she might get a little sleepy but she totally could still conquer her school day, tired. She has before. She doubted weed could be worse than a back-to-back all nighter. Keeping Monarch’s hand in her’s, Trixie observed the two baddies before cautiously asking the professional, “I… just want to relax and not worry. I don’t know what to ask for. I really have never done this before. My… morning sucked and I’d like to forget it, please.” In front of strangers, Trixie spoke with absolute honesty, without giving the details, of course. She hoped she made the right choice to put her guard down in front of these girls. She hoped this wouldn’t bite her in the ass next week. “Just show me and I’ll follow.”

Tallulah’s blood red lips curled into the smile not too dissimilar to that of a rattlesnake. It was a family smile; she had it, her sister had it, Theo had it. For all intents and purposes it seemed like the only one that didn’t was Bronwyn; then again maybe she just hadn’t grown into it yet.

The drug dealer could feel Sinead pressing herself against her body and it elicited a strong chemical reaction in her brain. Tally knew that her looks and behavior were proximity to power and control. Sin was a plaything that also made her money, how could she not want to invest? Greed was good, greed worked and Tally was greedy all the damn time. She gave the biker girl a playful squeeze before removing her hand and placing it into her own jacket pocket.

“The first one is free.” She reached deep to pull out an old cigarette tin that looked straight out of the early twentieth century and popped open the lid. “Since I’m a generous gal and all.” Tallulah took out a single pre-rolled blunt and stared deep into the gossip queen's eyes. “Open your mouth, let’s get you what you need.”

Taken aback, Trixie, with her warm, brown eyes gazed into Tally’s sharp, steely, and sensual stare. Never had she imagined she’d be in a situation like this, accepting a blunt and letting someone put it in her mouth. Putting anything in her mouth for that matter. She was a good girl, at least that’s what she told herself, but even the best girl’s have fangs and claws. Releasing Monarch’s hand, no longer needing the stability, Trixie relaxed her shoulders and said, “Fuck it.” Taking a step closer to the dealer, she offered her lips and opened her mouth, slightly, just enough to slip the cigarette in.

Tallulah unpursed her own lips and placed the joint between them. Her eyes never leaving Trixie, she lit the white stick of pure joy with her custom VCP zippo before taking a long drag, making sure to stain the roll up with her lipstick. With the signature devious twinkle in her gaze, Tally took a hold of the blunt and moved it to a short distance between her mouth and Trix’s waiting one. She turned and blew her smoke into Sin’s face before swinging her head round in a fashion reminiscent of a horror doll. “Take a good puff baby girl. Let it fill you up and then when you’re ready, breathe all those troubles away.”

With the blunt now in her lips, Trixie grabbed ahold of it, putting it between her index and middle finger. With the filtered end in her mouth, and the other end already ignited, all she needed to do was lightly suck and pause. She went slow, taking a ginger drag, followed by another one. She didn’t want to break in a coughing fit like she had seen her brother’s friends do countless times. She watched the head of the cigarette light up as the mellow heat passed through her mouth. The smell wasn’t the most pleasant and the sensation was tickling her throat. Still, Trixie was committing and refused to back down. She already got this far. She blew her smoke away from Tal, and the other girls, and then passed the blunt to Sin.

Puff, puff, pass, as the stoners do.

Sin easily received the joint from Trixie while Monarch watched the girl with analytical eyes, watching the way the first timer’s shoulders shook as she tried to hide her small coughs. Sin didn’t see how that was her problem, pretty much everyone coughed through their first time smoking, it’s just that the people they grew up- and surrounded themselves- with all got an early start compared to most. This whole being supportive to others thing really wasn’t her shtick, and neither was teaching or coddling new smokers. Trixie was tough, she’d survive. But no, Sin could already see the little gears turning in Monarch’s crazy computer brain, probably processing Trixie’s stress or discomfort levels or some other crazy shit that the bombshell blonde didn’t understand. Sighing out her hit, she passed the joint to Monarch and slid up to Tally, taking a moment to return the other girl’s earlier favor, with interest. She slid fifty bucks into the orange haired dealer’s back pocket, giving her a squeeze back, and made sure she saw the extra ten in her other hand before tucking it in the small pocket on the front of the girl’s jacket. Her fingers danced along the spikes for a moment before she dropped her hand from the leather entirely. The extra ten was for the last minute inconvenience, but the extra touches were for her. She grinned, looking up just slightly to meet Tally’s ever-challenging eyes.

“I’ll just get my usual then, thanks for showin’,” She said, pulling away now that she’d paid and played with the other girl.

Tallulah would never deny the electricity she felt through her body when it was touched. What she’d learned over the years however was that everyone had their own spark, their own voltage that was noticeably different from another. Some were middling, boring even, some were surging but short and then there were the rarer ones, like Sinead, that left a hunger, a want for something more. This girl from Oregon had a charge inside of her that Tally had never experienced before but was craving to experience more of.

“I love to please.” The redhead said suggestively before reaching into her handbag and pulling out another cigarette case different from the first. She slipped it into Sin’s pocket before turning to Monarch. She recognised the girl from the skate park, she also knew that she was close to the PLC. On the battlefield of the Parking Lot; she was an enemy. Here underneath the stairs, with a sister in need, she was a strange bedfellow and ally. “You.” Tally lifted her finger and placed it beneath Monarch’s chin. “Play nice.” Her sultry voice sang as her eyes drifted to Trixie and the back again. “It’s her first time; be gentle.”

Tally straightened her jacket and then ran both of her hands through her beautifully colored hair, arching her body as she did to allow her curves room to breathe. “You girls have got this covered, I’ve got more business to do.” She looked with starved eyes at Sin and smiled. “Find me later, if I’m not too busy maybe I can get you the rest of your product.” She blew all three of the girls kisses and the hidden fourth one that had been watching them the entire time. “Ciao ladies. It was your pleasure.” With the final word, Tallulah turned and began to walk back towards the hellmouth from which she came; swaying her hips to tease and hypnotize those she left behind.

“I know how to be gentle,” Was all Monarch had mumbled, obstinate at the warning but unwilling to truly combat the taller girl. The Strattons and she were aware of each other, and that was all they really needed to be. Monarch liked to skate so she spent a lot of time out back around the PLC, and she was a freelance infobroker that they made use of, and Monarch liked Addie and their friendship. Addie was a fun person to be around and her energy was intoxicating, as many that cared for the girl knew. The Pixie girl and social Butterfly had an understanding when they hooked up that Monarch was in no way looking to go deeper into any romantic aspect of the matter. The busy bee simply needed to destress and Addie knew multiple ways to help the overscheduled and deceptively tightly coiled girl relax. So, by default of association, the Strattons did little more than call her diminutive nicknames when they did cross paths and boop her on the nose like she was some silly kitten. There was no animosity until they hit the concrete out back.

That suited her just fine.

With Tally now gone and the girls in silence once more, Monarch turned to Trixie, taking a quick hit of the joint and releasing the smoke slowly while staring at one of the few girls in school smaller than her, no expectation in her eyes as she let the smoke rise from her barely parted lips. To the side, Sin raised an eyebrow, now aware of why Tally had thrown a warning at her normally responsible friend. Monarch liked to help, especially if she knew how to make something easier, but Monarch is also from generations of gang members and experiences that most people don’t see outside of a crime novel. Monarch liked to help, but sometimes her understandings of a normal person’s emotional processes or limits were…skewed.

“Hey, I’mma just keep watch if you wanna do you, it looks like you’ve got it handled,” Sin said as she clocked the face of a freshie peeking through the window of the hallway doors. She pushed her way through the doors, making the kid stumble back and almost drop the items he was carrying. Like she said, Monarch had things handled. Sure, Sin didn’t get to smoke nearly as much as she wanted to before class, but it wasn’t often that the Monarch she knew got to come out and play in Beverly Hills, so she was willing to give up the weed just this once so that her overbooked social butterfly could partake in some mischief. She was just a good friend like that. And as she’d mentioned in her earlier thought process, Trixie was tough, she could handle it. Monarch was just a hell of a way to get introduced to something. As the doors swung shut behind her, Sin looked down at him, leveled her best unimpressed stare and asked, “Can I help you, kiddo? You’re kinda intrudin’ here.”

“I uh, I have to get these to Trixie Kingsley-”

“Oh okay thanks, I got that from here,” She cut him off with a harsh and condescending pat to the cheek, shocking him into silence as she used her other hand to swipe the belongings from him. In a practiced move she used to use on her nephews, Sin spun the boy around by the shoulder and lightly booted him on the ass, sending him tumbling back down the hallway he came from. She waved merrily at his back and called after him, “You’re a real peach an’ all, but fuck off okay!”

Back inside, Monarch had received the joint back from Trixie after another pass, and once again watched as the girl attempted to power through her cough instead of just let it out. “Y’know it ain’t healthy to hold in a cough,” She said simply and without judgment, ashing carelessly onto the floor as every smoker that uses the stairwell does. It rubs into the school rug just fine, and that gets cleaned every night, no harm no foul until you drop something that’s lit. “So there’s a way to do this where you don’t have to hit it directly and it won’t risk burnin’ your throat, if you wanna try it, but it involves me helpin’. As a delivery system’a sorts.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Trixie coughed in response, trying to process the itch in her throat and the tingly feeling coursing through her lithe, small body. “What? Like you’re going to kiss me or something?” Trixie jokingly replied. Already feeling the effects of the weed hitting, her shoulders were more relaxed than usual, her senses were heightened, seeing more detail in Monarch’s face than she usually had, and it seemed she lost track of time, or it felt like time was lapsing right before her eyes. Monarch had a pearly white smile, tight cheeks, and a refined nose. Honestly the closer she got to it, the more she realized how perfectly symmetrical it was. “I hope your friends tell you everyday how pretty you are, Butterfly.”

Monarch flashed her pearly white teeth right at Trixie, braids cascading off her shoulder as she tilted her head and her whole face scrunching up with the smile as she laughed. Trixie was certainly already feeling the effects of the joint, but she didn’t really seem to be enjoying the process of getting there and that was the part Monarch was here to help with. Trixie was cute like this, a bit faded and more open with her words and praise, and she was finally relaxing which was the main goal of this whole thing.

On top of that, the dual meaning of Monarch’s name matching her so well that she gained nicknames from both interpretations never ceased to amuse her. She and her siblings were all named after types of royalty, but Monarch’s birth name as well as the name she used while running in the Trip-S were both as chameleon-like as she was. Monarchs were queens and kings but also the most well known butterflies in the world, and an Atlas moth developed wings that mimicked the appearance of snake heads as an evolutionary technique. In the Trip-S, it was her job to always be one of the most dedicated Serpents while also never appearing to truly be one, and she had been great at her job. Part of the Trip-S or not now, that kind of role doesn’t just leave you.

“Yes, they do actually,” Monarch responded easily before slowly sliding into Trixie’s space as she hit the joint. Her close friends were almost always extremely supportive, and where they weren’t complimenting her or her looks there was always an acquaintance or bedfellow to keep stoked the small fire of ego she contained. Looks like today was Trixie’s turn up to bat. “And yes, I am,” She continued in regards to the girl’s first question, pulling in another hit but this time not inhaling the smoke. She gently grabbed Trixie’s chin with two fingers and a thumb and guided the other girl’s face until it was tilted to the perfect degree for their minor height difference. “If you’ll let me, of course,” Her voice was thickened by the smoke, lowered to a register that would likely be called sultry were it falling from someone else’s lip. Looking Trixie in the eyes one more time for any sign of rejection before guiding their faces together with deliberate intention.

When Trixie jested about this being a kiss, she didn’t exactly expect it to be a kiss. For someone who made sure to know the ins and outs of school, and collect information on her classmates, she was completely and utterly out of her element. While her big eyes widened a little, staring intently in the other girl’s tender, crystal-thimble gaze, she wasn’t scared. Not like how she was in the bathroom with Theo. She felt safe, intrigued and maybe a little turned on, but Monarch didn’t need to do that. When Monarch edged closer, in a way that allowed Trixie to process exactly what would happen and to pull away if needed, making her actions clear as day, the latina didn’t fight or pull back. Letting the crashing wave hit her, riding the high, she leaned forward, to meet the other girl half way, giving her consent.

Closing her eyes, Trixie thought to herself: fuck it. What happens under the stairs, stays under the stairs. If Monarch was speaking honestly, this would take the edge off of her and she so desperately wanted to forget what just happened to her. Theo would no longer be on her mind. Theo would be buried, six feet under. Theo would disappear. She would be numb to it all and be able to carry on with her school day as normal. Just a little high.

She let the girl kiss her.

Monarch fought the proud smirk that threatened her features when Trixie reciprocated. She’d given the other girl ample time to pull back, to deny her, to make her choice. Monarch was no fool, she was very well aware that the state she’d found the normally controlled latina in could be product of very few things, and she wasn’t about to be an added stressor due to any similar actions. She may have been giving the options, but she was letting Trixie be the one to take it. Take back control.

Something told Monarch that the other girl really needed it, and she was happy to provide.

When their lips finally met it was gentle, Monarch making sure to keep the pressure light for the shortest moment as she allowed Trixie to continue processing at a relaxed pace. She’d taken her fingers away from the brunette’s chin when she’d leaned in on her own, and they ghosted along Trixie’s jaw as her hand traveled all the way to gently cup the back of Trixie’s. All this was in the matter of a single moment, and before it- like the smoke circulating behind her full lips- had a chance to stagnate, Monarch used her grip on the other girl to press their mouths together more firmly while tightening her grip on the back of her head and brushing Trixie’s bottom lip with her teeth, waiting for that surprised breath that would transfer the smoke from her parted lips into Trixie’s eager lungs.

Parting her lips, following Monarch’s lead, Trixie found her hands now resting on the other girl’s shoulders. The kiss was soft, smooth and secure. At this point, she understood what was happening. She opened her mouth just enough, for the smoke to seep in, when she inhaled, but not wide enough where it felt like she was going to eat Monarch’s face. She hadn’t been kissed in awhile. Not because she didn’t want to be kissed or anything. Kissing was meant for her lover and she didn’t have one since her break up with Theo. She wasn’t looking to date right now. Her priority was her studies, her newspaper and her portfolio.

However, to say this didn’t feel good would be an absolute lie. She just hoped she wouldn’t regret it later. In this instant, after the smoke flowed into her mouth, Trixie found herself leaning into the kiss more. The high shifting to something beyond the weightless feeling. Her body heat grew, her heart rate began to race, and her concentration was barely focused. She wrapped her arms around Monarch, subconsciously. She needed to. She didn’t understand what was happening to her but she needed to be grounded, rooted to the ground, and the closest person to her was her friend. When their lips separated, she giggled, “Wow.” This was intense.

Monarch had released Trixie’s head when her sudden eagerness shone through, dropping her hand to rest on her hip as the other girl put her own arms around her neck. It was increasingly obvious that Trixie really needed this, and that the weed was circulating nicely through her system before their lips ever met, meaning the relaxation was coming from more than the smoke she inhaled from the darker girl’s lips. Despite Trixie pulling back enough to speak, their bodies were flush against each other as Trixie leaned into her, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t also feel a reduction of her own stress at the physical contact. It was why she had friends like Addie, and people like Levi Green-Locke. Addie understood, and Monarch found multiple forms of release from the way she toyed with the king of Drama and his control issues. It was another reason why she offered this avenue to Trixie in the first place, because Monarch understood the power of physical intimacy in all its forms.

“That’s technically called shotgunnin’,” She said with a quirk of her lips. The joint had burned out between her fingers as they kissed, and she tossed the dead filter towards the open trash can in the corner. “Whaddya think of it? Feelin’ good?”

“...I dunt know how to feel,” Trixie admitted, allowing Monarch and Sin to manhandle her and bring her to the comfort of her car. “It’s like… I feel like I’m in a forever state of dejavu or maybe I’m just confused. Or maybe I’m like in the sky. Am I in the sky?” What was she even saying… “It’s just a lot happening right now.”

“Jesus, Einstein I thought Tals told you to be gentle.” Sin admonished from where she stood outside the smallest girl’s car, having helped Monarch set Trixie down in her backseat. She’d come back out to the back entrance foyer from the hall just in time to see the first timer leaning all her weight onto her diminutive friend. It had taken the entire following walk to Trixie’s car for the girl to answer Monarch’s last question, and the girl seemed like she was functioning in slow motion. “Have we ever gotten this fucked up on just weed?”

“Maybe when we were like nine and first started, our bodies were pretty small back then, easy to smoke too much,” Monarch responded, ignoring the blonde’s jab at her seemingly reckless actions with the newspaper Co-Editor.

“Your body’s still small now.”

“Even smaller back then, and tryin'a keep up with all the older kids.”

“Yeah, I guess we did use to green the fuck out back then,” Sin conceded, putting a steadying hand on Trixie’s shoulder as the girl began to list to the right in her seat. “Girl you gotta get some sleep. Here, I got your shit from the bathroom,” Which was true in a sense, despite her not going all the way to the bathroom herself to get it. Monarch was back to watching the parking lot for any witnesses while Sin guided Trixie back into her car until the barely coherent girl was lying comfortably with her head resting on Monarch’s folded up hair scarf, the fabric she’d previously used to wipe her eyes. “You gonna be good out here, Trixie?” She asked the other girl, not really expecting a response with the state she was in.

“I’ll check up on her between periods,” Monarch assured, unbothered by the situation. “Bring her her favorite snacks and all. It’ll be the best first high she’ll barely even remember.” Sin stared at her best friend with a lack of concern that most certainly should have been present over her actions.

“You’re gonna break someone one’a these days.”

Monarch’s responding grin was sharp and dangerous.

The smell of breakfast was what woke him from his slumber. With the constant physical activity he did, Michael tended to sleep like a rock, but the smell of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns brought him back to life. He slowly threw one leg over the bed and lazily sat himself up. Was he always this tired? Maybe his mom was right, maybe he did need to quit the job if he was going to be this focused on his fitness, sports, and trying to get into a good college. His head hurt, something to do with staying up too late the night before — or maybe overworking himself at the gym? Staying up wasn’t his fault! Between all of the obligations he had, he basically only had the dead of the night to do what he wanted.

He moved slowly, but he eventually made it up and out of the bed, grabbing the Rubik’s cube on his desk as he headed toward the door. It took him even longer to get downstairs, and when he made it to the kitchen he was still wearing his pajamas - flannel pants and no shirt. It wasn’t like it mattered, his mother was working another overnight at the lab, which left only Michael, his dad Damian, and his youngest brother Samuel at the house.

Which was probably why as he approached the table, he could hear the sounds of a Nintendo Switch emanating from the dining room. His father was still standing over the stove, flipping blueberry pancakes over. Samuel, however, was sitting at the table and pressing buttons on his Switch. The tired Mikey took a seat across from Sam and stared at him. “Didn’t mom say not to play games at the table?” He asked as he turned the Rubik’s cube in his hands. Rubik’s cubes were easy, they had patterns.

“Mom’s not here!” Samuel chirped in response.

“I didn’t know that turned her rules off.” Mikey hissed as he narrowed his eyes. There was a certain bitterness to his tone, nothing out of line for an older sibling talking to a younger one, but it was still notable. In his hands, he shuffled the Rubik’s cube, getting it ready to play with while he ate his breakfast. His dad walked to the table with a huge plate of food that he dropped in front of Michael.

“Come on, Mike. Your mom’s at the lab, so that means it’s dad’s rules. And dad’s rules are: breakfast, served twice a day, video games at the table, and best of all —” Damian, his father, explained with a grin toward his younger son as Samuel’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“We get to watch scary movies and stay up late!”

“That’s correct.”

Michael didn’t respond, mostly because he was busy shoveling food into his mouth as fast as possible. His body had a desperate need for fuel. It was almost impressive how fast he was getting through the plate, but of the people in the house, Michael certainly burned through the most calories. He tore a piece of bacon with his teeth and spoke while chewing, “whatever! I don’t want to listen to Fortnite while I’m trying to eat, man.” He said, glancing at his father, but Damian just shrugged and returned to the stovetop. Michael would want more food after he was done with this plate, Damian remembered what he was like when he was a teenager.

“Don’t worry about it, dad. He’s just mad because he’s never won! Even though it’s a game for kids.” Samuel’s voice was undeniably smug as he taunted his brother, before there was a loud THUD! followed by Samuel squeaking, “OW! DAD! MICHAEL THREW HIS STUPID RUBIK’S CUBE AT ME!” Michael had pitched the puzzle box at his little brother, tagging him square in the chest.

“Boo frickity hoo, mom’s not here. So her rules don’t apply.” Michael leaned across the table, reaching for his Rubik’s cube, but Samuel dropped his Switch and snatched the cube up in one smooth motion. He jumped away from the table as his older brother complained. “Give it back, dude! Do you know how hard it is to find a genuine one these days!?”

“I’m gonna mess it all up first, you butthole.”

“DAD! HE CALLED ME A BUTTHOLE!”

“You hit him with a Rubik’s cube, big dog! What do you expect?”

Michael sunk back into his chair in frustration. “Fine. Mess it up. It only takes me like thirty seconds to fix it! Did you forget about that?!” He demanded, with a mouthful of potatoes in his mouth. He was talking with his mouth full way more often than he would have with his mother there, but he figured if the rules were different for Sammy… they were different for him too.

“Okay… I guess I’ll just do this.” Samuel lifted up his arm, like he was going to spike the cube onto the ground, but he tensed up as Michael jumped out of his chair, a piece of pancake still on his fork. Samuel watched closely as his older brother tore the flapjack from the fork and chewed it aggressively with wide eyes that could only be described as ‘crazy.’ He slowly brought the Rubik’s cube back down and placed it gently on the table.

Michael nodded and sat back down, using the side of his fork to rip off another piece of the pancake. Samuel wasn’t going to let his elder brother have the last laugh, though. “You’re just mad because you’ve never gotten a Victory Royale.” He said with a devilish grin, and Michael immediately dropped his silverware.

“DAD! YOUR SON’S A DICK!”

“What the fuck is a victory royale?” Damian asked as he walked back into the kitchen, dumping another pile of food on to Michael’s nearly clean plate. “And don’t call your brother a dick! He’s a kid.” Damian shook her head as he unloaded the last couple of pancakes onto Samuel’s plate. “You need to take Sammy to school today. I gotta do… house stuff.” Damian had been given a list by his wife before she’d left, but he hadn’t even started yet. Some of it, he decided, he would call Trevor for.

Michael looked up and sighed, “after he was just a little butthead!? Come on, dad. You take him. Make him walk or ride the bus. I don’t wanna have to deal with him. And a victory royale is a Fortnite thing. It’s just what winning is called in it —”

“And Mikey’s never won because he sucks. He even makes me lose when we play together!” Samuel said, and Michael scowled. Damian sighed and shook his head.

“Be nice to your brother! He’s gotta take you to school, little dude. You wanna walk?” Damian asked, and Samuel seemed to think about it for a minute before shaking his head no and starting to eat in silence. Damian let out a relieved sigh and smiled, “I told Joy I had it under control.”

A few minutes later, Michael and Samuel were in his car and heading down the road toward Samuel’s school first. As they drove, Michael decided — perhaps foolishly — to open up the conversation that had started at the breakfast table. “Listen, dude. I can win a fuckin’ game of Fortnite, okay? I just haven’t yet because I don’t really play.” Michael said, glancing over at his brother only briefly as they pulled into the parking lot of the elementary school Samuel attended.

“No you can NOT, dude! I’ve watched you play video games, and like, you’re good at everything else in life… but man when you pick up a controller you run into the wall like an idiot!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t run this car into oncoming traffic, you little brat!” Michael clapped back, slapping the steering wheel. He did not give a vocal response for the simplest reason: he did not have one. Samuel was right, he sucked at video games, it was so embarrassing sometimes. Video games were meant for children, and Michael even liked playing them! But he had no Victory Royales, no Fall Guy crowns, no Warzone Dubs… He barely even made it through 2K’s career mode.

“Listen, dude. If you can get a SINGLE Victory Royale, I’ll do all your chores for a month. I mean, it’s like, pathetic at this point. You embarrass me when you join my lobbies and you don’t even have the umbrella.”

Michael swallowed his pride and nodded. “You have a deal.” He said through clenched teeth. Samuel grinned and threw open the door before he froze with eyes as wide as a deer in the headlights. Michael knew something was wrong, something was horribly wrong. Cautiously, he asked in a gentle voice. “...everything okay?”

“I forgot my backpack! Usually mom grabs it, but she’s not here so I just… forgot. Can we go back and get it!?” Samuel was having a moment of crisis. His backpack had his whole life in it, including most importantly the homework he’d worked so hard on the night before. Homework, he’d found, was a lot harder when dad was helping him with it instead of his mom. It wasn’t his dad’s fault; Joy O’Connor was a once-in-a-lifetime genius, and Damian O’Connor was a retired professional football player. The gap between them when it came to math, even fourth grade math, was astronomical.

“What!? No! I have to go to school too… I’ll just text dad. He’ll grab it for you, okay? Don’t worry about it, just go to class. If your teacher says anything, just try to ignore ‘em. Dad’ll be here lickety split, we both know he’s got nothing better to do, alright?” Michael said, and Samuel meekly nodded, the look of despair still in his eyes. Michael got it. He’d had the same fourth grade teacher, and Ms. Wik was a fucking bitch - though Michael would never vocalize that to Samuel.

He reached across the center console and ruffled Samuel’s hair, and grinned. He was trying to reassure his little brother. As much of a little shithead as Sammy was, he was ultimately Michael’s little shithead, and he wouldn’t change his brother, or really any member of his family, for anything. “Trust me. You’re gonna be fine, and if you’re not? Me, you, and Ethan will go TP her house. Got it? Now go get it done.”

Samuel seemed to accept this and he nodded, “okay… Thanks, bro.” He opened the door and returned the thumbs up that Michael gave him. A sacred promise between brothers.

With that out of the way, Michael quickly wrote a text to his dad to bring his brother’s backpack to the school and then he drove off, headed toward the high school where his own life awaited him. As he drove, he schemed in his head - how was he supposed to get a Fortnite Victory Royale? That game was fucking hard; he didn’t even understand how his brother did so well in it, but then he and his brother had never won together before… Did he know anyone in BHHS who was good at video games…?

As Nicky Snyder sang, he scribbled with his pencil on a piece of printer paper he’d snatched when Phoenix had looked the other way. Frankly, Nicky didn’t see the point to a homeroom class like this. Shouldn’t they be in classes where they actually learned something? Or, if not that, doing anything else? He didn’t get why there were so many requirements in high school. It was high school. Arrive. Do school work. Leave. Why was it anything more than that?

He was doing an excellent job of ignoring everyone else in the world, but maybe it was the THC that was still flowing through his bloodstream that kept him locked in on his ‘artwork.’ Bobbing his head up and down to the music that was blasting in his headphones, Nicky was currently doing his absolute best to make a Flip-o-Rama reminiscent of the Captain Underpants books he and Dylan had read in the past — and sometimes in the present. The future? Most definitely.



Nicky’s shitty whisper-singing came to a rapid close as he felt his headphones ripped off his head. He whipped his head to the side, shooting a glare in the direction of whoever it was. “Mikey, what the FUCK?! I was jammin’, dude. You never break someone’s concentration while they’re jamming.”

“I need a favor.” Michael sighed, shaking his head. Wasn’t there anyone else in this class who could win a game of Fortnite? His only options to win the bet with his younger brother were Cheech and Chong? Michael wasn’t sure who Nicky thought he was fooling, he could still smell the scent of marijuana radiating off of him. People knew, Nicky. They definitely knew.

“What!? Aren’t you elite! Get the elite to do it - this ain’t a charity case, broski.” Nicky said, before turning his attention back down to his drawing. He did, however, let his headphones fall around his neck. He was listening, for whatever it was worth. It was also made quickly apparent that he wasn’t done talking, “man, you gotta be truly desperate to come to me for help. This is gonna be some of the dumbest shit I ever heard, huh?”

“I need you to get me a win in Fortnite by Monday.”

“What?! That’s a ridiculous request! That’d be like me telling you I need a date to homecoming and the part-”

“Done. Easy.” Michael said, ready to make a trade offer that was heavily Nicky sided if it meant he could finally have that stupid umbrella that had eluded him for so long. “I’ll get you a date, and you, the date, and Dylan can kick it with me and the boys the whole time. King treatment.” Mikey didn’t think to ask his friends if that was okay, but then he found himself not really caring. Chances were, the only one who might say anything was Theo - and Theo could be drowned out by others.

Nicky thought about it. Michael grew visibly frustrated, but Nicky seemed to be enjoying this temporary exchange of power, “yo, Dyl. What do you think? Deal… or no deal?”

“This is stupid! This is like a hold up. What else could you two possibly want!?” Michael was getting openly exasperated, and quickly remembering why he did his best to avoid this particular duo.

Dylan slowly spun his chair around, slouching with his arms across his chest. “You come to us, on this day of celebration, and you ask for a favor?” Dylan said, his voice contorted into what might’ve been the worst Marlon Brando impression ever performed. He almost asked Mikey to kiss the ring, but he figured that would be pushing his luck. Besides, there was something else he wanted wayyyy more than a kiss from Mikey O’Connor. A boy was simply not complete without his bullhorn. Dylan steepled his fingers and grinned over them at Mikey, a fox in teenage boy’s clothing. “Tell me, Michael, how good are you at breaking and entering?”

If Michael said he had a plan, that would have been a lie. It wasn’t even safe to say that he had an inkling of a plan, he’d agreed with what Nicky had requested so quickly that he hadn’t even had time to formulate a plan of attack. There were few options to fulfill his ridiculous request; Dylan’s had felt dumber in the moment, but was success was more immediate. Easier to find. How the hell was he supposed to find someone to date Nicky Snyder? He wasn’t a fucking magician. Nicky was loud and proud about it, and while that wasn’t necessarily a negative in the dating world, it was far from a positive. People like Nicky were supposed to be like Ethan: drowning in pussy. All that unearned and undeserved confidence, and for fucking what?

Nicky needed a special type of girl, Michael knew that much from the five minutes they’d talked together that morning before exchanging Discord IDs. This was a lot to go through for one night of playing Fortnite, but if this guy was as good as Michael assumed he was? Then he’d probably get enough wins in one evening to stop his brother from ever bringing it up again. It had taken almost the entire homeroom period and nearly the entire travel time between periods before it had dawned on Michael.

He knew who to set Nicky up with! Or, at least, he used to. Back in the before times, when he favored his academics over his athletics, Michael had been the captain of the mathletes. He had hardly interacted with his old teammates in the years since, but there was something to be said about being in high school: numbers never changed. Now, he just had to hope that she answered the call when it was put out into the air.

To: Sara from Mathletes 🤓
Hey Sara! It’s Michael, I don’t know if you remember me.
Can you meet me in the library? I was wondering if I could ask a favor! Ten minutes of your time? Do you still have study period after homeroom?
I do! I’ll be in the library waiting if you want.

It took more self control than it honestly should have for Michael to not physically pat himself on the back as he grinned and headed toward the library. In his head, this was already a done deal. What was she going to do, say no? Everyone wanted to roll with him and his friends, so he had that to his advantage. And besides, she was a bit geeky — there was a chance she might know who NIcky was, and then his battle was more than halfway done. As he took a seat at one of the desks in the back corner of the relatively large library, he smiled. All he had to do now was wait.

When her phone buzzed, Sara naturally assumed it was another automated message asking her to vote for some candidate or another spam email notification that she enabled just so the vibrating phone message would make it seem like people were actually interested in talking to her. No one would really need or want to contact her other than her mother or abuelta and one of them was at work and the other was not presently around a phone and certainly wouldn’t know how to send a text message anyway. So when her phone buzz, Sara just ignored it and went about her day, heading to her favorite location in school once home room came to an end - the teacher hadn’t called her name during roll call because of course she was present. Where the hell else would she be?

In the library, Sara checked the tutoring roster. No one had signed up today, at least no for her, and she chalked it up to the fact that on pep rally day the only thing students cared about was getting out of class earlier so they could start the weekend that much sooner. It was no bother, she had doodles and reading to catch up on anyway. To the back of the library Sara went, to the back corner table that was quiet and out of the way of general foot traffic. On most days Sara’s biggest hurdle when studying on the back desk was that some students used the back corner desks for making out, but Sara had gotten quite good at writing notes and studying when hands and asses were right in the corner of her eye. She sometimes cleared her throat to try to get them to leave, but it was like trying to hear a single bell in the middle of a raging concert.

Sara paused as she turned towards the back corner desk and saw that it was occupied not by students engaged in a rousing game of tonsil hockey, but rather a student who looked like he was waiting for someone. Probably so he could play tonsil hockey. Sara didn’t say anything as she took the familiar seat and pulled a book from her backpack. She didn’t exist. The intruder would mind his own business as if she wasn’t even there. Such was the symbiotic relationship Sara had with the school.

Michael didn’t ignore her. In fact. he found himself staring at her. Was she trolling him? Had she checked her texts? Was she ignoring him? Did he deserve this? He racked his brain and tried to think of a time where he had hit on Sara. There wasn’t anything that immediately popped up, but as he gazed at her… he wondered if he’d made the right choice texting her. Seconds ticked away, and Sara was reading a book. This was a punishment, it had to be, but Michael was stubborn. He got it from his mother, one of the most stubborn people on the entire planet.

Seconds turned into minutes, and in the game of chicken they were playing, neither of them moved. Other students walked by the scene, observing it for a few seconds with a scrunched up nose of either confusion or distaste. Michael did not see them. He was focused on Sara. It was on the fourth minute that he decided something had to be wrong with this girl and tapped the table to get her attention.

“Hey, did you get my text message, or…?” Michael left the question rather open ended, unsure what the deal was here. He wasn’t used to being ignored, even when he had been a nerd, he had a commanding presence. This, though? This was fucking ridiculous. “If you didn’t want to help me out, you could have just said so. I know I’m more interesting than that book, dude.” Though he spoke in a whisper, his tone was still firm, almost harshly so. He did not take being ignored very well.

At least he was whispering while he was talking to someone on the phone, though Sara couldn’t remember the last time she knew someone her age to speak to someone on the phone. It must’ve been a family member who hadn’t learned how to text yet. The question by Michael went unanswered for another full minute before Sara reconsidered; he had mentioned something about a book. “Are…are you talking to me?” She had to ask, her voice almost scratchy like she needed water. This was officially the longest conversation she had had with another student. “Did…you want to read my book? Are you interested in the history of toxicology? Charles Norris, the subject of this book, was a pioneer of what we now know as forensic toxicology, it’s a really fascinating book even if you’re not interested in the subject matter. I don’t know if the school library has it, but it’s called The Poisoner’s Handbook if you want to buy your own copy.” It had been so long since she spoke that it all just sort of…flowed out of her. She half expected the guy to have up and left during her lengthy reply.

Had she always been like that? Michael honestly couldn’t remember, even when they’d been on the team she hadn’t been much of a talker. When she started rambling about her book, he started realizing this plan was genius. Both Nicky and Sara were yappers, this was going to go great. He relaxed into his chair and shook his head. “Uh, no I’m not trying to read your book. Check your phone, I texted you like 20 minutes ago.” It could have been an eternity, with how long he’d been staring a hole into her skull. At least he knew he wasn’t being blatantly ignored; it turned out that Sara was just… a little weird. “I didn’t know you were interested in toxicology though, that’s kinda… interesting.” He didn’t want to say creepy, but the message was probably received. He shook his head.

“The Sara I remember wasn’t really like a True Crime Podcast girlie. She brought snacks to all our mathlete meetups.”

“It’s not a true crime podcast, I listen to NPR, true crime podcasts are basically dramatic readings of Wikipedia articles but that’s beside the…you were in mathletes?” Sara paused and looked away from her book and towards the boy who had been able to see the ghost in the library. Sara had been in mathletes but only lasted a semester and a half, not because she was bad at it but because the team never really included her in the competitions against other schools. She warmed the bench even though she knew a lot of the answers and believed she would have been a great asset. But things just sort of went that way for Sara: unrecognized, unknown, unwanted. Her abuelita had said that the best way to fit in was with food but every time she brought homemade cupcakes and donuts, they were simply eaten by the others and assumed to have been bakery bought.

Unlike others at the school, though, Sara remembered faces. Names. The guy didn’t look it now, but if she squinted and added puberty growth spurts…”Are you…Michael O’Connor?” Why would Michael O’Connor talk to her? Why would he text her, if what he said was true? Why would he know her name? “You don’t need tutoring, you already know how to factor trinomials. What…what…what do you want? If…if this is…like…some popular kid prank…just…just do it now, okay?”

“What do you think this is, a Mean Girls sketch? I’m not… me and the boys don’t do that.” That was mostly true, though Michael knew that there was one person in the Elite in particular who was cold-hearted enough to actually pull a prank on someone of ‘lesser’ social standing. But that definitely was not him, he just needed a favor. Why was she making this so difficult? He’d needed to wrack his brain hard as fuck just to find a name that he thought would fit, and now that he was talking to her, she didn’t even seem interested in him. That wasn’t really surprising, something told him that shredded jocks were not Sara’s type. “Sounds to me like you know a lot more about true crime podcasts than you want to admit,” he mused, circling back to Sara’s comment about dramatic readings of Wikipedia articles.

This was going to be perfect, he reasoned silently. Sara, it seemed, needed friends… and sooner, rather than later. Nicky, as far as Michael knew, had friends. They could share! It worked out. “Since you didn’t check your phone I guess, I’ll just repeat myself.” He hated doing that. “I was wondering if you could help me out with a favor? I have a friend who really needs a date to the dance and the party tomorrow. I was hoping you didn’t have anyone in mind already?” He paused, letting her chew on it before he launched in again, this time focused on sweetening the deal.

“He can come pick you up from your place for the dance, then at the party you guys can hang out with me and the rest of the crew. There will be free food, booze, and weed. You gotta like at least two of those, right?” Having shot his shot, Michael sank back into the chair and relaxed. What was she going to do? Say no?

Sara hadn’t been to a dance or a party in her four years of going to BHHS, but even if she had, would anyone have even noticed her presence? Dances were one thing, but parties? Parties were basically the social events of any given month; she’d heard that Halloween parties were particularly crazy and that one year some people woke up the morning after in the hospital. Hardly her idea of fun. If she went to a party, she’d somehow find herself on a couch sandwiched between two different couples each engaging in drunken, sloppy makeouts but be too timid to say anything and too squished to prise herself away from the situation. Not that she was speaking from experience, of course.

“I don’t…alcohol and…weed…they…impair senses…I just…isn’t there someone…better for this? I…I have plans…” She didn’t. Not unless making a steak torta and watching a Ken Burns documentary about the Central Park Five counted as plans. “I think…I…I don’t…I never…I…plans…” Was she hyperventilating? Why did it suddenly feel so hard to breathe? Was she sure this wasn’t a prank? “No…ticket…I…”

“Don’t worry about that. Me and the boys will handle your ticket, you just need to get a dress and be ready when he’s there to pick you up. If you don’t like him, ditch him at the party and find someone you do like. Trust me, Sara. A little alcohol and weed impairs your senses and you’ll have the time of your life.” Was there a chance that it ended poorly? Sure, there were usually a few bad decisions made, but Michael felt pretty confident he could keep an eye on Nicky and Sara for a couple of nights. “You’ll have a ride there and a ride back… and we’ll keep you entertained.” He didn’t say it, but part of him wanted to point out that after a weekend of hanging out normally, she might even have a couple of friends.

“I feel like I never see you at the parties. This is our last year, so party hard and see where it goes.” Michael hadn’t been expecting any resistance from her, let alone basically a panic attack… which he hadn’t really addressed. He reached into his backpack and pulled out his sports bottle, filled with a red substance. “Here, drink some water. Well, I put a pre-workout packet in there, but it’s fine… water is good for you. It’s fruit punch flavored. Well… watermelon and strawberry.” Technically, it was called ‘Tiger’s Blood,’ but something told him Sara wouldn’t drink it if he said that.

“Just drink it and take a breath before you pass out, dude.”

Under normal circumstances, Sara would have questioned the drink offered to her. Water wasn’t supposed to be red and people who put the little flavor packets in their water were better off just drinking juice, but this was an unusual and unprecedented circumstance so she grabbed the offered bottle and half of the contents were rolling down her throat before she stopped, panted to catch her breath, and quietly handed it back. “You’re not supposed to accept drinks from strangers…” Sara didn’t think Michael had any nefarious plot in mind, she was just reverting to general trivia and information like a loading screen of a video game.

“What…what were you talking about?”

This was an experience. Michael had never dealt with someone with so much anxiety. How was it even possible to cram that much anxiety into that small of a body? He didn’t want to fuck this up by being rude, so he took the sports bottle back. It was nearly empty, but he supposed that was okay, at least she was able to talk to him now. With a sigh, Michael repeated himself — again, a landmark moment for him, but then this was a desperate time and called for a desperate measure.

“I want you to go to the dance and the party over the weekend with a friend of mine. He will pick you up, you just need to have a dress and an overnight bag. And maybe slightly more willingness to get drunk.” Without wiping the nozzle clean, he slurped at some of the drink still in his bottle. “Come and have fun. The library will be here on Monday.” This time, he hoped, she wouldn’t launch into an immediate anxiety attack this time. “Do you have Discord? I can give you bro’s.”

The library might be here on Monday but Sara had no guarantee that she would be. She paused and let hundreds of questions pour through her head, each one starting with the damning phrase ‘what if’. What if something bad happened, what if she got in trouble, what if someone died, what if what if what if what if. And within the storm of anxiety and excuses her thoughts went back to her bedroom, to that empty cell of a room and to the desk she did her homework and studies at. To the college acceptance letter that greeted her and the loudest question in her head became ‘What if I go to college with zero experiences?’ followed ever so closely by ‘What if I do something I regret?’ The question swirled and morphed and silently she pondered the more important question: would I regret not going? It wasn’t like they could…unaccept her from college…right?

“What…what’s Discord? I don't have to..like…” Sara looked around. The only ones within earshot were herself and Michael but even so, Sara leaned in and whispered like she was confessing to a priest. “I don’t have to…[size=64]have sex…[/size]right?”

“That’s between you and your date, not me! But I’m not hiring you to be a prostitute! That would be insane, I just need you to be this guy’s date, okay?” He felt like she’d agreed, but he was holding off on telling her her date’s name for now. He was worried that giving her a name would make it too real. “How do you not know what Discord is? How do you keep in touch with like… anyone?” He asked, frowning as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contact list; at least he’d had the brain power to get his phone number too, rather than just a Discord contact. What kind of person didn’t have discord?

“You’re agreeing, right? I honestly can’t tell, man. This’ll be good for you.” I think.

“My mom texts me or calls me if she needs to contact me.” Sara responded to the rhetorical question before she realized it was, in fact, rhetorical. Her social stock was already in the gutter but now it had to be barrelling its way to the core of the earth. “I…” Sara closed her eyes. The voices in her head were screaming, debating one another like the ancient philosophers in Greece, but sometimes the voices had to be silenced. Sara knew many and more things…but that wasn’t a skill so easily learned by any book or research paper. Her second most important mentor of her youth always said to take chances, make mistakes, get messy…maybe it was time for Sara to try one of those. “...Okay.”

“NICE.” Mikey couldn’t help but pump his fist in front of himself as his voice went a few decibels above where it should have been in the library. It was like a huge weight had lifted off of his shoulders as he was locked in for his deal with Nicky Snyder. Things were put into motion, and he was going to do his best to make sure the adopted nerds had a good time. He scribbled down a number on a piece of paper and pushed it across to her. “There’s his number. Text him if you want, maybe if you’re all mysterious and anonymous it’d be cute, I dunno. If you don’t wanna do that, tell him you got it from me.” He stepped up out of his chair and shouldered his pack again, grabbing his sports bottle and starting to walk away. As he departed, he dropped the library whisper and added. “Hey bring some of those Mexican donuts you used to bring to mathletes, yeah? Fuckin’ loved those things.”

It wasn’t quite how she imagined it happening, but Sara got her first phone number from a classmate. It might not have meant much to most people, but it was quite the big deal for Sara. Was she supposed to bring the pan dulce to the dance? Was that allowed? Wouldn’t that be weird, showing up with sweet bread for an entire dance? How many was she supposed to bake? That would take her, like, most of the night and into the morning if she wanted enough to go around. How many people showed up to a dance? To a party? Like…sixty, right? That seemed right. Sara looked at the slip of paper and looked over the number, already doing little equations with the number in her head. It was fun for her. Maybe she’d try sending a text after school - doing it during school hours was against the rules after all. “Wait…” Sara paused, looked at the paper. At the numbers. That’s all that was there. Numbers.

“Who the heck am I going to the dance with?”