What I’d noticed earlier was right. Something was changing this year. The girls seemed braver.

I was halfway down the hallway and could already hear Jordan’s voice when a different one cut in. Someone grabbed my arm.

“You didn’t show at my party last night!”

And all hell broke loose.

When the hand grabbed my arm, I reacted.

I reached back, took that hand, and flipped around so it twisted backwards. A guy yelled out in pain, but I wasn’t listening. I was behind him, still holding onto his wrist, as I slammed him into the locker.

I heard yelling.

People were shoving.

I was only focused on the guy in front of me.

My knife out, I leaned in close, whispering into his ear, “You touch me again, and I’ll slice your veins.”

I eyed him as I made my threat. This wasn’t just a random person who’d reached for me. It was Alex Ryerson, leader of the biggest crew at Roussou High School. He was a stout guy, muscular, but short, and I swear, his attitude was caked on to make up for his height. His round face had wide eyes—a little too close together and sunken in. He turned so he could see me. There was scruff on his face, probably hadn’t shaved because of the party last night. I felt the stubble against my arm as I pressed into him a little harder.

Who he was didn’t matter to me. No one grabbed me.

I felt hands reach for me, but then they were ripped away. As Alex stilled under my knife, I knew without looking that I had three guys backing me up.

“You touch me again, I’ll make you bleed.”

He growled, but jerked his head in a nod, “Yeah. Yeah. Sorry.”

I waited. My heart slammed into my throat.

Then I heard a soft voice behind me. “Let him go, Bren.”

That was Cross.

His hand touched me.

His hand, yes.

Someone else’s, no.

“I’m sorry, Bren.” Alex turned a bit more to see me better.

I blinked a few times.

Maybe he saw the crazy in me. Maybe he was nervous because my knife was still out. Whatever the reason, he was cautious as he began to straighten back up.

I kept my knife to his throat, but I moved back with him. Once we were both upright, I slipped it away. “Don’t touch me like that.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled a deep breath. His chest lifted up, filling under his sleeveless shirt, and he held his hands up at hip-level. “I’m sorry.”

“Come on!” A guy came forward, but Jordan slammed him back.

He was in the guy’s face. “Come on what? You tell me.”

“Hey, hey.” Alex moved past me, keeping a wary eye on me as he went to his guys’ side.

Jordan fell back, his own hands up.

Alex cleared his throat, his arms stretching between us and his guys. “We’re good. Everything is good.”

“Touch one of my crew again, and we’ll have problems,” Jordan threatened under his breath.

“Look...” Alex sent me a beseeching look. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just going to give you crap for not being at my party last night. That’s all.”

“You touch your own like that?” Cross growled, right beside me.

His point was obvious: I wasn’t a girl. I was crew.

Alex had forgotten that when he grabbed me.

“What is going on here?” a voice boomed from the end of the hallway.

Everyone stepped back. It would’ve been comical if I hadn’t been part of it. Backs hit lockers again, but this time it was on purpose. Arms crossed over chests. A few people shoved their hands into their pockets. Everyone tried to look relaxed, like we were all hanging out. Even Jordan pretended to look at his nails, a faint grin on his face.

Principal Neeon shook his head.

He was tall, his bald head towering over most everyone except Jordan. They were the same height, but Principal Neeon outweighed him by a hundred pounds. If anyone could manage our school, a retired linebacker from the NFL fit the bill perfectly. It didn’t hurt that his entire family were cops either.

His eyes narrowed on Jordan and Alex.

“Mr. Pitts.”

Jordan’s eyes lit up, like he’d just noticed our principal standing there. He straightened from the locker. “Oh hey, Mr. Neeon. How are you this fine morning?”

Mr. Neeon was unfazed. “Are you going to pretend an altercation didn’t almost happen here?”

Jordan opened his mouth.

Mr. Neeon pointed to the right corner of the ceiling. “We had cameras put in over the summer.”

Jordan’s mouth closed with a snap.

“Surprise.” Our principal’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He raised his voice, booming again as he scanned the entire hallway. “That message is for everyone here. Roussou High School will not tolerate violence. Any violence! No violence.” His eyes fell to me. “That goes for anybody, crew or Normals.”

I didn’t react. I didn’t even blink.

Alex coughed, clearing his throat. “As an honorary member of Student Council, I think we need to make sure students’ rights aren’t being violated as well.”

Principal Neeon turned, his hands going into his pockets. “An honorary member? Did you just nominate yourself?”

Alex grinned, a twinkle in his eyes. “I doubt they’ll kick me off, and I’m serious, Mr. Neeon. We need to make sure our privacy and confidentiality are maintained.”

The principal just stared.

Alex didn’t buckle. He kept that cocky smirk on his face, and along with us, he was one who could. His group had around thirty members, ranging over all the grades, so he was protected. His older brother had established their crew, and when Drake graduated last year, Alex stepped into the leadership role.

It didn’t always happen that way, but it had with their group. It was good as long as the previous leader okayed it, and he had. I would know. I’d dated him until he decided he was done with everything in Roussou. Everyone too.

“Bathrooms and locker rooms are protected. There is no surveillance in those places, but everywhere else?” He stepped closer to Alex, towering over him. “You’re damned right I put those cameras up.”

Alex’s twinkle looked a bit more forced. “Well, thank you for that respect of privacy.”

“The times when you guys could walk around this school, literally shoving around your weight, is over, Mr. Ryerson. When you’re on my grounds, there is no crew system.”

“That’s just—” Alex swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Wonderful.”

Principal Neeon looked at Jordan. “I am going to review those tapes, and if I find any violence on there, the appropriate persons will be penalized.” His gaze fell to me. “Now!” He glanced back to Alex, his tone lighter. “Mr. Ryerson, if you could come with me to my office. There’s someone here to see you.”

“What?” Alex frowned. “I didn’t do anything…” His voice trailed off as he gazed down the hallway where Principal Neeon had come from.

The rest of us looked too.

And there, standing unperturbed by the attention, was a guy.

His dark hair was rumpled. He had a bulldog-type face, with his mouth pulled close to his nose and his eyes set close to each other, but with a square jawline. He shouldn’t have been good-looking, but with his broad shoulders and athletic build, he was. It was also in the defiant way his nostrils flared, his head rising as he looked at everyone staring at him.

There was something about him…

The way he stood there, a backpack thrown over one shoulder, his hand in his pocket. A familiar feeling tingled at the back of my neck.

When Alex said his name, it all clicked.

“Fuck, Race. What are you doing here?”

Race Ryerson.

This was Drake and Alex’s cousin, the one I’d never met.

“Language, Mr. Ryerson.” Principal Neeon extended a hand toward Race. “And this is why I asked for your presence. I’ll let, uh, your cousin give the explanation.” He looked at Race. “You have your schedule?”

Race came over to us, nodding. “I do. Thank you, Mr. Neeon.”

“Yes. Well…” Our principal scanned the group one last time. “I’ll leave you to it then.”