PROLOGUE
Haze
Eighteen years ago
I’m on a mission.
After what I’ve heard from my snitches, and what I’ve seen myself, I’m not impressed. I don’t like any of it, and when I don’t like something, I take action.
It doesn’t matter I’m only seventeen. People listen to me because I’m big, mean, and a little nuts. The perfect combination of crazy. Having kids a little afraid of you never hurts the reputation, but I draw the line where girls are concerned.
I know from my own family life — a drunk for a father, and a mom who’s trying to hold things together — that it’s not easy having three boys. Sometimes I feel sorry for Mom, she’s had to deal with a lot, and Dad was like her fourth child. My older brothers, Logan and Dylan, kicked him out a few years back, and we were glad to see the back end of him. Ma can do so much better. We’re a rough family, but Ma taught us right from wrong.
“Where is he?” I ask Little Jo, a guy taller and wider than me but wouldn’t hurt a fly. We sometimes use him as backup,but realistically, he just stands there looking mean and doesn’t actually do any of the heavy lifting.
“Cafeteria.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course.” Well, now he’s going to see what it looks like when you mess with my school in front of everyone. What’s worse? It’s to do withher.
Maybe it’s because she’s pretty, or the new girl, or she’s a little weird, but I feel strangely protective of her. Willow.
I see Little Jo frown and I stop. “What is it?”
“He won’t leave her alone.”
My frown deepens. The teachers are fucking useless around here, but that’s to be expected. It’s not the greatest school in the district, but also not the worst.
I see red, and when that happens, I’m like a bull. Unlike my middle brother, Dylan, who always thinks things through. I tend to act, then think later.
I take off with a couple of guys behind me, Jai and Lenny are the only loyal friends I have left, and they’re not afraid to do hard things when the time calls for it.
But this asshole called Simon, he’s gonna get it.
When I get to the cafeteria, I scan the room. Willow’s new here, and the Plastics — the fake, popular girls who also makeMean Girlslook like Girl Scouts — sit at their own table as far away as possible from the nerds, poor and unpopular kids, because that’s how they roll. They basically make everyone’s life a living hell, but love to trash talk anyone new. I can’t hit girls, though, but I can hit Simon. He might be the high school quarterback, but he’ll always be my second. And I don’t give a shit if I fuck him up.
When Little Jo points, I squint, then I see him. Willow looks uncomfortable as she shrugs him off and he laughs, several of his friends standing around as she squirms in her seat.
Two girls sitting next to her try to shoo him away, but he just laughs it off.
For a kid my age, you’d think Simon would be more mature. Unfortunately, it seems he’s been hit in the head too many times, and I’m about to add to his trophy collection.
As I approach, the cafeteria grows quiet. That’s nothing new, they’ve been doing this kinda shit since I was in fifth grade when Bo “Peep” Lewis stole my friend’s lunch money and I had to teach him a lesson. I don’t like bullies, and Simon is a bully.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” My jaw is set, and my teeth grinding as I yank him off the bench by the scruff of his shirt and he yelps in surprise.
There’s only one way to deal with assholes like him, and it’s the hard way.
I don’t think, I act. My fist pulls back in line with the side of my face and Simon’s eyes widen, he hasn’t even got time to blink before I punch him in the face once, twice, three times. The piece of shit deserves it.
He wails as kids gasp and he falls to his knees when I break his nose. Well, it isn’t the first time, it’s been broken during play before, so this is nothing new.
While on his knees, I drag him over toward Willow, who’s staring up at me with wide eyes. When my gaze meets hers, I shrug as if none of this is my fault, which it isn’t. I didn’t wake up today and tell Simon to be an asshole piece of scum, did I?
Nope, he did that all on his own.
“Now,” I go on, clearing my voice, my eyes still on Willow’s. “What do you say when you’re bein’ a dick for no reason other than to be one?”
He tries to struggle out of my grip, his football friends don’t help, mainly because most of them I know from the field, and the ones thinking it was funny — just a few moments ago — are nowhere to be found.
