Disorder by J.L. Weil

Chapter Six

Monday began with the resumption of the Elite rotation. Once again, I found myself shadowed by one of the guys. And if Brock, Grayson, Fynn, or Micah couldn’t follow me, like into the girls’ locker room, Mads was there. I was never left alone, which of course didn’t go unnoticed.

Murmurs and whispers trailed after me as I walked down with Fynn to Physics, a class I wasn’t particularly pleased about taking but it looked good on my school transcripts. How different my life here at Elmwood Academy was than at Elmwood Public. I wasn’t sure the reality of it would ever sink in.

I missed my mundane life. And yet, as I walked beside Fynn down the hall, I realized something good had come out of this mess. I’d met Mads, and I’d found out I had a brother and sister. My relationship with Elite was complicated, and I had yet to decide if it was a good thing or not.

Fynn lightly bumped my shoulder with his. “Ignore them.”

I adjusted the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder. “Easy for you to say. You’re used to being talked about.”

Fynn’s boyish smile grew. “True. But their opinions don’t matter.”

“Let me guess. The only opinion that matters is the Elite’s.”

Clusters of students forcing their way to class parted as Fynn walked by. “Now you’re getting it.”

My eyes rolled. “Whatever. See you after class?” We’d come to my Physics room.

Fynn opened the door. “Grayson’s up next.”

Giving him a half smile, I went inside to take my seat in the back. The classroom was set up with rows of lab tables, two chairs at each. Monica, my lab partner wasn’t in her chair yet, so I slid into mine and dug into my bag to pull out my laptop. A body brushed past me, and I assumed it was Monica.

I was wrong.

“Hey, sis.”

At the sound of Carter’s voice, I nearly dropped my laptop on the ground. I’d already broken one computer. I doubted Angie would be pleased with me if I showed up with another broken one. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I hissed under my breath, placing the laptop on the table in front of me.

Carter stretched his legs out under the table, a lazy smirk on his lips. The tie around his neck hung loosely, his blondish hair curling around the color of his white shirt. “I did a little rearranging of my schedule.”

“Why?” My voice grew louder, not caring who overheard.

Carter chuckled, flipping a pen in between his fingers.

My fingers tightened against the edges of the laptop. “This isn’t funny, you shithead. Can you find someone else to torture? I’ve had enough.” I started to scoot my chair back with every intention of skipping this class, but Carter’s hand landed on my knee.

The tips of his fingers pressed firmly into my leg, keeping me in the chair. “You didn’t show up to family dinner last night.”

The legs of a chair squeaked across the floor from the table in front of us as Brad Newman took his seat. “Hmm. I wonder why. Could it be because you were there?” I slid a hand under the table and dug nails into the top of his hand.

“Your mother was inconsolable.”

“You mean drunk.” I didn’t bother to sugarcoat it. I knew exactly who my mother was.

Carter wore a smug grin as he finally released his grip. “You’re about to find out the Elite aren’t the only ones with pull at this school.”

Dread dropped into my stomach like a bomb about to explode. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see,” he said, so cocky, so sure of himself.

I wasn’t up for his cryptic bullshit. “Can you try to be fifty percent less of a prick?”

“Probably not… unless you give me what I want.”

Professor Dirkton strolled in, dropping a stack of books on the edge of his desk. It was a good thing too, because I was two seconds away from slapping the shit out of my stepbrother. “Once Brock finds out about this, you’re dead.”

He shrugged in that I’m-untouchable way of his, tapping his pen against the table. “You can’t hide behind them forever.”

Not forever. Only until I turned eighteen and I could legally get out from Angie’s control or she went to jail for kidnapping.

Professor Dirkton glanced up, his eyes landing on Carter. “Mr. Patterson. What are you doing here? This isn’t fifth period when you actually have class with me.”

“My bad, Professor D. Too much vodka in the coffee this morning.” A few of the guys in class chuckled but Professor Dirkton wasn’t amused.

“I suggest you get to the proper class.”

Gathering his shit, Carter glanced over his shoulder, shooting me a wink.

Bastard.

* * *

Mads and I strolled through the cafeteria on our way to the girls’ locker room. I seriously considered skipping out on gym class today. The idea of doing laps around the track made my stomach churn.

Gah. I’d so rather be doing laps in the school’s massive pool. Perhaps I’d take a dip into Brock’s tonight. That was the only thing I missed about the Pattersons’—the pool.

The rest of the day had been uneventful, which was exactly what worried me. Carter’s little threat echoed in my head throughout the entire day, and I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Have you talked to Grayson since, you know?” I asked, wondering if he had said anything about spilling the beans.

Mads shrugged. “No, not really, other than for him to remind me to keep my mouth shut. I figured you’d know more than I do.”

I grimaced. “He hasn’t said much to me either. This whole thing takes awkward to a new level. Neither of us knows how to act around the other.”

“You’ll work it out, cuz.” She grinned.

The locker room came into view as we turned the corner, and I groaned. “Think Coach Q will go for the whole cramp excuse?” I asked, still figuring out if I could find a way out of gym.

A hollow laugh came out of her. “Coach Q is a hard ass. He has three daughters. Cramps don’t faze him.”

“Wonderful,” I mumbled, my hand reaching for the door. Something hit me on the shoulder.

Not something. Someone.

Whirling around, I didn’t have time to avoid the smoothie as it flew straight at me, splattering over the front of my crisp white academy shirt.

Motherfucker, the shit’s cold.

I gasped, my hands flying up in the air.

“What the fuck, Ava!” Mads snarled, throwing her bag down on the ground like she was ready to rumble. She stuck her nose right in Ava’s face.

I should’ve known Ava was responsible. She made her disdain for me very clear, and apparently we’d moved on to childish pranks like tossing a smoothie on the new girl.

Izzy and Parker giggled beside the redheaded bitch. They were rarely ever seen not glued to Ava’s ass. Each wore the signature blue and black Academy plaid skirt, altered of course to show half their thighs, the Elmwood brand embroidered onto the bottom left hem. Izzy twirled her hair, snapping a piece of gum. Parker had her white shirt unbuttoned low, showing the lace on her black bra. Her short hair was angled so it hung lower on one side.

But it was always Ava who demanded attention. She had a blue cashmere sweater tied around her slim waist. “Oops. I didn’t see you there,” she said, batting her long, fake lashes at me. Her peach glossy lips curved villainously.

The standby whores. Just what I needed.

Mads eyes were hostile. “Like hell, you psycho bitch.”

A hush fell over the hallway, drawing unwanted attention straight on us. I glanced down at my white shirt covered in dark blue, probably blueberry and cherry, which meant I wasn’t getting the stains out anytime soon. My shirt stuck to my skin in patches.

“Back off, Clarke,” Ava retorted, breaking off her stare down with Mads to glare at me. “It really was an accident.” The giggles from her posse started again, and I’d had enough.

I lunged forward, shoving Ava with both my hands. She stumbled backward, a look of astonishment crossing her face. Two seconds later, my hands were fisted into her red hair, and I yanked her head back. Through the tangle of nails, fingers, and hair, I slammed Ava up against the locker door, transferring smoothie onto her.

She shrieked a few times, letting loose a string of vile swear words, but I didn’t care—I was past caring.

One of Ava’s hands attached to my boob and twisted, her other knotting in my pink hair. I sucked in an angry breath. “I’m going to kill you,” she seethed, sounding as insane as Mads had called her. Ava fought dirty, but so could I. Had she forgotten where I came from?

I kicked out at the back of her leg, causing the skank to go down, and then I was on top of her. Only vaguely aware of the commotion in the background, my ears buzzed with fury.

No. It wasn’t my anger that caused my ears to ring. Someone blew a whistle long and hard.

“Break it up!” a voice full of authority boomed down the hall.

Neither Ava nor I listened as we continued to tussle on the floor. Nails scored down my arm in hot pain, but I gritted my teeth through the sting. Sitting on top of her, I pulled my hand back to slap her across the face, but someone caught my hand midair. A moment later, I was lifted off the cheerleader by strong arms.

“Let me go,” I snarled, but the arms that held me remained steadfast. My back pressed firmly against a flat chest, and I bristled, shoving the hair out of my face.

Coach Q fumed in front of the gathered crowd. “Principal’s office. Now!” Coach ordered, pointing his finger down the hall from which Mads and I had just come from. His steely eyes bounced between Ava and me.

The hands holding me off my feet relaxed slightly, allowing my boots to touch the ground. “I can’t leave you alone for two seconds, can I, Firefly?” Brock’s deep voice whispered in my ear.

It would be him.

But I had known, even through the haze of rage, that it was Brock who held me. “I’m not done with her yet,” I growled.

His chuckle brushed over my ear, and a different fire stirred low within me. “I can see that. Best to deal with her outside of school.” His mild amusement only irritated me.

I attempted to shake his hands off. “I can walk on my own,” I grumbled.

“Probably, but we’re sending a message here.”

My eyes looked up at him in confusion. His lips hinted at a smirk, but his eyes… they were cold. On my other side, I sensed a presence. My head turned to see Micah and Fynn. Micah winked at me. Where had they come from? Then I noticed Grayson beside Brock, his cognac eyes flaming.

I was surrounded by the Elite. He was right. This definitely sent a message. Don’t fuck with what’s theirs.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Mads grinning in approval.

By the time I got to the principal’s office, my adrenaline had calmed down, and the reality of what I’d done set in.

Shit.

A trip to the principal’s office meant a call to Angie.

Ava smirked triumphantly at me as the two of us sat down, waiting to be called in. Had she planned this whole thing to get me into trouble? Anticipating that I would do something reckless? She couldn’t have. Could she?

The expression on her face said this bitch wasn’t as dumb as she looked.

The Elite stood with their arms crossed over their chests, looming over me. They all wore serious expressions except for Micah, who grinned. His light blue eyes twinkled at me. “Who says Mondays are boring?”

I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t my idea to tie-dye my shirt with a smoothie.”

“No talking,” the lady behind the desk said sternly. She peered over at us from behind wire-framed glasses.

A dry chuckle left Micah. He made it very difficult to keep a straight face, because now that the escapade was over, all I wanted to do was laugh.

Principal Wallis called Ava and me into her office one at a time. As Ava stood up to go inside first, she met my gaze with a dark look that promised I’d pay for this later. She was up to something.

Oh, goodie, something to look forward to. More bully drama with the cheerleading squad.

Between her and Carter, I needed to be babysat twenty-four seven.

“Whore,” Micah said, covering it with a cough as Ava passed by. She shot him a dirty glare, but in those hazel eyes beamed hurt. Ava wasn’t used to the Elite treating her like shit. She’d been replaced. She knew it. I knew it. But most importantly, the entire school knew it.

“Mr. Bradshaw,” Principal Wallis snapped, inclining her head toward Micah. She was an average height woman, but in heels and a power suit of navy blue, there was something powerful about Principal Wallis. She didn’t seem afraid to take on all these rich kids and their even richer parents. I pegged her to be in her midforties, based on the strands of white hair peeking through her sleek brown waves. “What are you doing here? Don’t the four of you have class?” she said to the guys hovering in the lobby with me.

“We’re witnesses,” Micah retorted with a twisted yet somehow charming grin.

“This isn’t a trial, Mr. Bradshaw. Get to class.” She didn’t wait to see if they complied as she ushered Ava into her office. And that was Principal Wallis’s first mistake. The Elite weren’t going anywhere.

Micah dropped down in Ava’s empty seat, stretching out his long legs in a reclined position.

“You guys are making this worse. You should really go to class,” I muttered.

“Not happening,” Brock replied like an immovable force. “We’ve already concluded you can’t be left alone.”

A cocky smirk came over Micah’s lips. “And we’re supposed to be the troublemakers.”

I rotated my shoulder, the aches and pains of being hit and scratched making themselves known. Like I needed more bruises. “She started it,” I mumbled, not giving a fuck if I sounded like a sulking two-year-old.

“And you finished it,” Grayson chimed in, his lips twitching as if he was proud of me.

I grinned at him.

Ten minutes later, Principal Wallis’s door opened and Ava strolled out. She didn’t hide the pure disdain she felt toward me. Pulling her eyes from mine, she turned her attention to Brock. He did and said nothing, but I wanted to jump out of the chair and tackle her again.

My fingers tightened on the wooden chair arms.

Principal Wallis surveyed the lobby, shaking her head. “The four of you just don’t give up. I don’t how you manage to have so much influence over the students at this school. I’ve stopped trying to make sense of it.”

Micah shoved his hands into his pockets. “Some people just have that certain je ne sais quoi.”

Principal Wallis pressed her lips together and sighed. “Josephine, let’s chat.” She held the door open and waited.

I nodded and stood up, stepping into her office, half surprised the Elite didn’t try to follow me inside.

She walked around the solid oak desk. “Please sit. I want to hear in your own words what happened.”

The leather groaned under my weight. “What did Ava say?”

Folding her hands studiously on her desk, she said, “That’s not important. We don’t take bullying lightly at Elmwood Academy, and I’d like to think my staff is keenly aware of what goes on in this school.”

I snuffed a snort. They had no idea what shit went down in and out of school.

“It was nothing. Just a misunderstanding.” Tattling on Ava would only bring more misery. Besides, I wasn’t a narc. I’d handle Ava my own way… off school grounds.

“I can’t help you if you don’t open up to me. I’m not the enemy here.”

Crossing my legs, I slumped lower in the chair. “As I said, it was an accident.”

“Okay, then. Since neither of you will own up to the truth, I have no choice but to give you both Saturday detention. I’ve already called your mother. She will be here in a few minutes to discuss what happened today.”

My jaw clenched. Son of a bitch.

What had I been thinking, going after Ava? Now I was stuck facing Angie, who definitely was day drinking and I’d been avoiding. She was the last person I wanted to see.

I didn’t know how, but this was Carter’s doing, attempting to force me back home so he could impose his blackmail upon me.

Over my dead body would I help him.

My eyes glanced to the door as I contemplated how much trouble I’d be in if I got up and ran.

Principal Wallis must have picked up on my sudden discomfort. “I know it can’t be an easy transition for you, starting a new school your senior year, but Josie, you have less than seven months until graduation. I hope that we can get through those months without any more incidents.”

“If only we lived in a perfect world.”

She cleared your throat. “Is there something going on at home? My door is always open if you need someone to talk to.”

My tone went flat. “Is that all?”

“Yes. I hope the next time I have you in my office it will be under more positive circumstances. You can wait in the lobby with Ava for your mother,” she instructed, peering at me through her glasses.

Ava scowled when she saw me, obviously blaming me for this crappy situation we were both in. She refused to look at Brock or the guys, who hadn’t moved from their spots.

“Let me guess, Josie Jo, you earned yourself a Saturday.” Micah sounded as if he was very familiar with the discipline process at the Academy, and I had no doubt he and the others had spent many Saturdays in detention.

Before I could answer, the lobby door swung open, and Angie strolled in full of glitz, false glamour, and… booze. Stumbled into the lobby might have been a more appropriate description. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. This wasn’t the first time she’d come to my school drunk, but for her to do so in front of the Elite, particularly Grayson, and Ava, sent me spiraling in shame.

She already carried the label gold digger. Tomorrow, she’d also be known as the boozy leech. My fight with Ava would be old news by the time Angie and I walked out of the school. Just one more thing to be whispered through the halls.

Her eyes fell upon me. Disapproval gleamed in her expression. Scowling, she went into see Principal Wallis, returning just a few minutes later. The frown still graced her lips. “Josephine, we’re going home.”

I didn’t want to make a scene in school and especially not in front of Ava. My gaze shifted to the hard set of Brock’s face. I silently begged him with my eyes. Not here.

He blinked.

Poor Grayson looked caught between seeing a ghost and wanting to commit murder.

Only two periods of classes remained in the day, but I didn’t even argue that. Standing up, I followed the clicking of Angie’s heels, leaving the lobby. The exit doors to the main parking lot were right outside the principal’s office. As Angie pushed open the door, she finally realized we weren’t alone.

The Elite flanked me on either side, Brock and Fynn on my right and Micah and Grayson on my left.

Her glossy eyes narrowed. “What is this?” she asked as we all stepped out into the afternoon sun. Autumn breezes blew along the building, sending loose strands of Angie’s sleek black hair flying.

“Josie isn’t going home with you,” Brock declared. The cocky expression on his face taunted her to challenge him.

“Josephine, in the car. Now,” Angie ordered, sultry red lips puckered in displeasure at being defied by a boy. Her feet faltered, weight shifting. Standing in place didn’t mix with spike heels and afternoon cocktails.

Brock’s frown deepened. “No, your daughter isn’t safe at that house. She stays with us.”

Mom shot daggers at him. What she was really upset over wasn’t that I had gotten into a fight, but that I might have told Brock about what went on behind closed doors at the Pattersons’. “I don’t know who you think you are—”

He bulldozed over her, cutting Angie off. “Isn’t it your daughter’s safety all that’s really important here?”

She recoiled like Brock had slapped her. “Leave my daughter alone. She doesn’t need your help.”

They didn’t care that we were on school property. This was their turf. “Too bad. She already has it,” Fynn said as he took a step so I was slightly shielded by him.

“How dare you,” she protested, her chin lifting.

Brock glowered. “It’s time you understand how things operate in this part of town. Nothing happens without us knowing, including behind closed doors.”

Oh shit. He just hit Angie’s sore spot.

Grayson eyed her up and down, scorn dripping from his glare. “Go back to your rich husband. We’ll take care of your daughter.”

Her shoulders dropped an inch, and yet she spoke my name firmly. “Josephine.”

Refusing to meet her gaze at her, I said nothing. Truth was, I didn’t want to go home, and if the Elite had the power to make that happen, so be it. I moved closer to Brock, making my intention clear. “I’m not coming home.”

A soft bitter laugh escaped as he turned her shrewd gaze to Brock. “Do you know it is illegal to harbor a runaway. You’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”

Brock grinned mockingly. “I sincerely hope so.”

Angie's grip tightened on the side of her purse. “This isn’t over,” she promised.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Brock replied tartly.

She spun on her heels before he finished delivering the parting statement.

Great. Now Angie and my stepbrother had declared themselves Elite enemies. My eighteenth birthday never seemed so far away.

What had I done? And why didn’t I feel bad about it? No regret. No sadness. Just peace.

* * *

Brock gave me one of his spare football shirts he kept in his locker to change into. And somehow, strolling down the halls with his football number plastered to my back was sweet revenge. For once, I didn’t care about the attention or the whispers. It was exactly what I wanted, for the gossip mill to do its thing. By the end of the day, Ava would know whose shirt I wore thanks to her childish tactics.

Take that, bitches.

“You’re loving this,” Grayson said as he walked me to the football field. His helmet hung in his hand.

I grinned at him. “So what if I am? I think it’s time someone showed Ava she isn’t as important as she’d like to believe.” I doubled my steps to keep up with his long strides. It still seemed unreal that he was my brother.

His cleats sank into the grass, kicking up little divots. “I’m so glad you’re taking the initiative. Just be careful. Don’t underestimate her. To girls like Ava, high school status is everything. And being the girl on Brock’s arm is the highest position for a chick at this school.”

He didn’t have to tell me. “I won’t let her intimidate me. I’m fucking sick of girls like her.”

“Good. So am I,” he muttered right before he jogged onto the field, joining Brock, Micah, and Fynn, who were already huddled up with their teammates, including Carter fucking Patterson.

Having to hang around after school to watch the Elite practice was the last thing I wanted to be doing. Yet here I was. The only positive outcome was seeing Brock’s ass in his tight football uniform. God, what a glorious tush. But sitting in the bleachers also meant I had to watch Carter and his loser friends.

It was a double-edged sword. The Elite wouldn’t let me out of their sight and yet, the person they were shielding me from was always around.

Whack.The sounds of bodies hitting bodies echoed throughout the outdoor stadium as the first scrimmage got underway. Things got heated on the field as Micah slammed Carter to the ground for the fourth time during their practice.

I sat in the first row of bleachers, not far from where Micah and Carter crashed into the turf. Micah rolled off Carter, but not before giving him an extra shove as he got up. He readjusted the strap on his helmet, sporting his wicked grin. Catching my eye, Micah winked at me. A second later, Carter was on his feet, pushing Micah in the chest.

“What the hell is going on?” Coach yelled from the sidelines, tossing his ball cap onto the ground in frustration. Poor Coach Q. He had no idea what was really going on during his practice. It had become a battleground between the Elite and Carter.

A definite division had been declared in the team, which would only hurt the Academy’s chance at the playoffs this year. Not that I gave a shit about football, but the school prided itself on winning, and many of the players needed the games to be scouted for college ball.

Carter included.

Yet, since Friday night, they’d been at each other since practice started. None of them needed to play football, not with the amount of wealth the Elite and Carter would inherit, but for Carter, it wasn’t about the money. It was expected of him.

Ava and her cheer whores glared over at me from the sidelines like this was my fault.

In truth, I was partially responsible, and since that seemed to bother Elmwood’s queen mean girl, a petty beam of satisfaction swirled inside me. Unable to help myself, I smirked and flipped her off. She returned the gesture before flashing her ass in my direction, the ruffled skirt hardly covering half her butt. Just the way she liked it.

“We have a game on Friday. You guys better get it together,” Coach demanded. “Leave your shit off the field. I don’t care about your drama or your girl problems. Not when we are here. Hell, I don’t even want to know when we’re not in uniform.”

A few of the players snickered, including Micah. “Got that, Patterson?” he sneered.

“Fuck off, Bradford,” Carter snarled back.

“Enough!” Coach Q warned. “Get back into the game.”

Despite the coach’s warning, the jabs continued. Coach called practice early after Grayson took a hit that sent his helmet spiraling across the ground and earned him a split lip. That was how players ended up with concussions.

Jumping up from the bleachers, I hustled toward Grayson, only to stop short at the sight of Carter. He noticed me and sneered.

Grayson shoulder-checked Carter as he brushed past him. “I catch your eyes on her again, I’ll crack more than your ribs,” Grayson’s dark voice threatened.

“I was just admiring my handiwork. It looks like it hurts,” Carter replied, a man who had a death wish.

“Bastard,” I cursed under my breath, and then Carter was flat on his back, Grayson looming over him.

The whistle blew long and hard over the field.

I winced.

“What the hell was in the lunch today? The two of you just earned yourself Saturdays,” Coach Q barked, his face turning ten different shades of red.

Well, damn. Saturday detention should be all kinds of fucking interesting. Might as well make it a party.