Jordan still had his head down, and I leaned close to him. “Thanks for that.”

He sat up, wiping a hand over his mouth. His laughter had subsided, slightly.

“Come on. They like you. It’s cute.”

Cute. I winced.

I did angry. I did hostile, violent. I did fucked-up.

I didn’t do cute.

I was sitting at a table in the library for study hall when Cross walked in. He pulled his hood down over his face.

Oh yeah. He was still hung over.

“Mr. Shaw.” Mr. Penski’s voice boomed across the library. “What are you doing in here?”

Cross slowed, raising his head so Penski could see his face better. A slight cocky swagger came out, and he held up a piece of paper. “I’m transferring seventh period, Mr. Penski.”

“Uh-huh.” A scoff of disbelief. Mr. Penski took the piece of paper. His frown moved from Cross to me. “If there’s trouble…”

He let the threat go unsaid, but Cross nodded and headed my way.

He sat across from me, glancing over his shoulder.

Mr. Penski and the librarian were both watching.

I understood why.

If something happened to one of us, the other would jump in to help. It could get messy, and it had at times. The recent brawl at Manny’s was evidence of that, but this was study hall. And we were in the library. Chances of anything happening were slim to none.

“You switched?” I asked. He’d come to school fifth period, showing up during lunch.

“Ryerson’s been cocking off in Latin this week. Getting worse than it was before. Figured it was better if I wasn’t in there.”

“Really?”

He surveyed the room and saw the Ryerson cousin. His top lip curved. “I didn’t know this one was in here.”

Race had been watching us, but hearing Cross, he picked up his stuff and came over to our table. He sat next to me, facing Cross.

“You talking about me?”

Cross shot back, “Yeah.” His hazel eyes darkened; they almost looked brown.

The chances of something happening were going up, and judging by the others watching, they knew it too. I caught the same looks I saw every time a crew scuffle broke out. People should start carrying popcorn with them.

“Say it to my face then.”

I had to give props to Race. He wasn’t flinching.

Cross seemed pissed, and this side of him was scary, dangerously scary.

“Your cousin is getting a big fucking mouth, and I’m not enjoying it.” Cross leaned back, raising his chin. “We going to have the same problem with you?”

Race’s lips pressed together. “When are you going to get it?” He glanced at me. “Anyway I thought he was being fine. He’s been good all week.”

Cross narrowed his eyes.

“Cross,” I started, dropping my voice. Too many people were trying to eavesdrop. “I—”

“We can talk later,” he said to Race. “Your cousin was going on about how his crew is the biggest and baddest. You seem to have put yourself in the middle for whatever reason, but if Alex keeps saying the shit he’s saying, there’s going to be a crew war. You ready for that?”

Race’s mouth opened an inch. He was surprised, but I wasn’t. Sadly.

This was Alex being Alex.

Yes, he’d apologized after the one fight, but his head had been swelling steadily since then. I wasn’t surprised to hear any of this.

Normal Alex was cocky all the time.

He liked to start fights.

He seemed to have developed amnesia after his apology. He’d stayed away from me, but the guy who’d seemed like a leader was nowhere to be found now.

“Is there a problem here?”

Mr. Penski had materialized at our table.

Cross leaned back. He kicked his feet out and shook his head. “Nah. We’re fine.” He and Race shared a look. “Just getting on the same page, that’s all.”

Mr. Penski swung his gaze to Alex’s cousin.

“Yeah.” He gestured to Cross. “What he said. Same page. We’re besties now.”

“Mmmm-hmmm. I’m sure you are.” Our teacher held his pen in the air. “I won’t tolerate any crew business—not this year, not anymore. This is a zero-violence area.” He ambled back to the librarian’s desk, his hands out like he was talking to himself.

Cross shook his head. “They talk like we ran the school before. It was never like that.”

“The cameras are new,” I pointed out.

He glanced over. “Still, though. We could never fight in a class. Why are they so anti-crew this year? It’s like it’s their new theme.”

“Maybe it is,” Race said.

We turned to him.

He held his hands up like he was surrendering. “My stupid cousin aside, maybe Principal Neeon went to a summer seminar? Bullying is a big deal now. He could’ve gotten that twisted so he thinks crews are the bullies. Or they’re treating you like you’re gangs.”

Cross snorted. “We’re not gangs. There’s no blood in and blood out bullshit. The most illegal crap we do is drinking. We protect our own above anything else—that’s the only similarity. That’s what a crew does.” His gaze went to a table were a few jocks were sitting. I recognized one as the football player who’d been talking to Jordan in class before. “If anyone’s going to bully, it’s them.”

“You’re stereotyping.” Race grinned.

Cross shrugged. “I stand by what I said. We’re not the bullies.” He nodded to me. “Can you imagine the target that’d be on our backs if we were?” Then his smile fell away. “But Alex is starting to shoot his mouth off. He could be a problem for all crews if he doesn’t rein it in.”

“You don’t think he can handle being their leader?” I looked at Race, but spoke to Cross, “You think maybe he could talk to Drake?”

“About what?” Race asked. “I’m not crew. He won’t talk to me about that, not unless I join theirs.”

Cross narrowed his eyes, tilting his head toward me. “Jordan will push you on this. Do you want to talk to Drake? The guy’s right.” He nodded at Race. “Drake won’t talk to him unless he’s in the crew.”

I wanted to growl. Cross had gentled his tone because he knew this was the only course of action. If Alex kept popping off, I might have to reach out.

I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to deal with Drake again.

But I nodded. “If I have to, I will.”

Race nudged my arm with the back of his hand. “I could go with you.”

I didn’t respond, but shared a look with Cross. He knew I wouldn’t want him there. If I wanted anyone with me, it’d be Cross. But it was a moot point. Drake wouldn’t talk if Race was there. If anyone should go, it should be my brother. Channing could scare Drake into talking, but that meant I’d have to spend more time than I already was with the new brother-extraordinaire persona.

Thumbs down to that.

I lifted a shoulder in response to Race’s suggestion.

After that we got down to business—we actually studied. For all the trouble we caused, we weren’t bad students. Usually. Or Cross wasn’t. And judging by Race’s notes, he seemed like a good student too. And it wasn’t that I was a bad student, just not super motivated. Twenty minutes in, they were both reading, and I was watching the other students—the good ones according to the school’s staff and administration. I wasn’t a part of the normal universe, but from where I sat, I had a feeling they were just like us. Maybe worse in some ways too.

Cross was right. My gaze switched to the jock table. I remembered walking to a basketball game and seeing some of those guys stuff two freshman into lockers.

If my crew had done that, there would’ve been a reason. And it wouldn’t have been those two guys that got stuffed. They’d been the nerd types. I had a hard time imagining either of them doing anything that would cause us to go after them.

“You okay?” Cross had been watching me.

Race lifted his head too.

At Cross’ question, Sunday and Monica looked over. I saw the envy flash in their eyes and sighed.

No. I’d never trade places.

If that’s what it meant to be normal or a good student, I didn’t want it. They didn’t have the loyalty I got every day.

When Cross asked if I was okay, he meant it. He wasn’t asking so he could mock me later—something I’d heard Sunday do plenty of times.