Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
“Just look casual.”
I look around, spotting a girls’ P.E. class running the track around us, and I glance over my shoulder, making sure the Rebels are hidden under the trees.
Dylan opens the door, and I follow her inside my old school.
The smell hits me immediately. Fresh paint, perfume, and the leather from jackets, handbags, and car interiors. The scent I grew up with.
Weston High smells like damp wood and school hamburgers.
We walk, our shoes squeaking against the clean floor, and Dylan heads toward the front of the school, hands in her pockets. Everyone is in class, but we pass a couple of people here and there. They look at her, meet my eyes, and then move on. The lockers are new. Orange against black walls.
I prefer the Rebel colors.
Dylan halts in front of the display cases—right next to the front office—and starts to slide open a glass door.
“What are you doing?” I ask again in a low voice.
“Help me.”
She starts to pry what looks like one of our old yellow lockers out of the case.
“No,” I reply. “Why are we—”
“Hunter!” She stops, glaring at me.
The urgency in her eyes makes me shut up.
“It’s Piper Burke’s old locker,” she whispers.
I drop my eyes, taking in the rusted edges, chipped paint, and the number 1622 etched into the plate on the front.
I lock eyes with her. “Why’s it in here?”
“They were saving a few to display when they bought new ones,” she admits quickly. “Kade made sure this was one of them.” She pauses, pursing her lips. “Thomasin started high school this year.”
Piper’s kid. Fathered by Nate Dietrich. Both of whom put Dylan’s parents through hell when they were our age.
And sure, Kade cares about that. He cares for any reason to exact revenge on anyone, even if it has nothing at all to do with him. Even if it’s through their fourteen-year-old child, or through Dylan who has to have the past rubbed in her face every time she passes this fucking case.
My brother…
“Move,” I tell her, stepping in.
I grab hold of the locker, lifting it into my arms.
She hovers behind me. “I can help.”
“Out of my way, baby.”
I freeze, feeling her eyes on me at my side. I didn’t mean that.
I heave the locker onto my shoulder, and she shuts the glass case behind me. We move through the school, ignoring the stares of the two people we pass, and exit through the back, Dylan holds the door open for me. Crossing the football field, we hear chatter, finally catching the notice of the P.E. class, but we don’t stop.
Farrow stands on the other side of the fence, and I lift the locker over. He takes the end, and I slowly lower it into his arms. Dylan and I hop the fence.
Farrow and I carry the locker as I jerk my chin at Coral. “Trunk.”
Quickly pulling out her keys, she unlocks the trunk of her Corvair and Farrow and I set the locker inside, closing the lid. I’m not sure what Dylan wants to do with it, but I have a few ideas.
Dylan cups her hands around her mouth. “Go for it,” she calls out to Mace.
Mace pulls out a utility lighter and lights fucking everything.
I yank Dylan back.
“Codi,” I snap. “Coral. All of you get back.”
An ember from one could make others explode before their fuse even runs out.
A rocket shoots up, into the sky, whistling in a high-pitched screech, and the class running the track lets out shouts and gasps. We watch as, one by one, fireworks fly off the trailer into the air. They pop, fizz, and crackle as they light up the blue sky with sparks of blue and white. Rebel colors.
A couple of adults spill out the door to the school, seeing us across the field as students hang out the windows, pointing. Some laugh, some take pictures and video, and some shout “Fuck the Rebels.”
And some shoot out their middle fingers.
“Ahoy, Pirates!” Mace bellows through a megaphone with Property of WHS printed on the side. “Have a good day at school! We’ll see you tonight. If you can find us!”
Coral takes a shot from a pint bottle of Smirnoff, passing it around to everyone else, while Dylan opens a pack of M&Ms and pours some into Codi’s palm.
Farrow chuckles, watching the show. They all do.
I move toward Constin’s bike, leaving.
“What’s wrong?” Dylan asks, and I see her approach out of the corner of my eye.
I shake my head. “Nothing. I have things to do.”
She takes my arm, turning me to face her.
Her blue eyes sparkle. “I wouldn’t have been able to carry that by myself. And wasn’t it fun? Stealing something with me?”
“You needed me because I look like Kade,” I tell her. “In case we ran into people, right?”
They wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at her walking around the school with him.