Fuck. If they start fighting, I won’t be able to break them up on my own.
“If you’re feeling froggy, leap, motherfucker,” Art mocks. His hands form fists at his sides. He’s itching for a fight.
I walk swiftly over to situate myself between the cousins. Tempers are rising quickly.
I place my palms on their chests to hold them at bay. Even through Art’s shirt, I swear I felt a current travel up my arm the moment my hand touches him. When my gaze catches his, I know he felt it too.
“This isn’t happening. We need to go. You two can measure dicks later,” I say.
After a few gut-wrenching minutes, Josh speaks first. “You’re about to enter Chaos,” he says in an ominous tone.
“What?”
“The Nine Months of Chaos, to be exact,” Trevor adds.
“Stop speaking in fucking riddles.”
“It’s a rite of passage you’re intruding on. The in-crowd of the graduating class causes havoc for the poor citizens of Longhorn County from September until graduation,” Trevor explains.
“During Chaos, if you’re not out of control, you’re not in control,” Josh cuts in.
“What’s the plan tonight?” Art asks in an “I don’t give a shit”voice.
“We’re going to McKinley High in the next county to fuck up their school. They’re our number one rival,” Josh answers.
“Oh wow, you guys love living dangerously,” Art replies sarcastically.
Josh shoots Art a death glare as his cell phone rings.
“Hello? Yeah, it’s time for Chaos.”
He ends the phone call.
“They’re heading to the school. Let’s go.” Josh walks towards the door.
He picks up the bag filled with orange and green spray paint and a drill sitting by the front door. Green and orange are our school colors, so officials will know kids from Central did the damage, but they won’t know who.
Art walks towards his motorcycle when we leave the house. Josh looks over at him with a frown on his face.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Josh asks.
“I’ll follow behind you.”
“No, you won’t. You have to ride with us,” Josh tells him.
“Fuck that.”
“Asshole, you can’t ride your motorcycle. That thing is loud as fuck. It’ll be like having a target on your back. We need to be discreet.”
“Fine,” he agrees.
Trevor and I climb into the back of Josh’s dark gray Chevy Suburban while Art gets in the front.
Josh drives around to the back of the large building, then parks his truck between Danny’s Ford Mustang and Aiden’s Nissan Armada. When Josh kills the engine, everyone exits the vehicles. The whole crew is here.
“Motherfucker!” Danny shouts.
Everyone is instantly on alert, peering around to find out what has Danny riled.
