The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

Greta proves herself to be one dumb bitch when, instead of leaning back or just leaving, she presses on. “Um, because I gave her the condom she asked for so she could do you.” Her lips frame the last two words in a big oval. She probably thinks this is a sexy look, but it reminds me a fish. “I told her that I didn’t think her frail little body could handle a big boy like you.” She winks. “But you probably did her out of sympathy. Let me know if you want a different kind of ride.”

The milk carton is still spinning in circles. I take my fist and crush the carton and milk spurts all over the table, some of it catching Greta right in her fish lips.

“I don’t even know who you are,” I tell her. With a jerk of my head, I head out knowing Nick is right behind me. And behind him are the rest of the guys from my table. We’re all jocks, but this is Nick’s crew even though he’s a sophomore because he’s the guy with the golden arm. I’m the reluctant, couldn’t-care-less player who can’t wait to graduate and do real fucking things, so I let Nick lay down the law to the crew as I stand behind him, arms crossed, feet planted wide like a looming, angry asshole. Which is exactly how I feel at the moment.

“You asswipes say one word about Charlotte that is remotely sexual and Nate and I will give you a beating that will have you shitting out your piehole.”

“No worries, dude.” Kenny claps Nick on the back. “We got your girl’s back.” He gives me a nod and glides down the hallway. One by one they pat Nick on the shoulder and give their promise to keep it locked down.

Nick’s eyes turn to me with fury in them. “What the hell is up with that bitch?”

“No idea,” I say. “Charlotte knows her through gymnastics.”

“You gonna talk with her?”

I glance back at the door. “No. She wants the attention. Best way to teach her a lesson is to make sure she gets none.”

Nick nods, and we separate to head to our next classrooms. Good thing Charlotte isn’t coming back to North Prep until next fall. Hopefully she’ll have better taste in friends when she gets back.

By the end of the day it’s clear that what started at lunch has spread like a venereal disease throughout the entire school. Guys are smirking at me, and girls are looking speculative. No one but Sinclair Pennington has the guts to talk to me. Sinclair’s a sophomore and has had a few classes with Charlotte, but I never knew that they were friends.

She stops me after last period before I’m headed home. Nick is waiting for me by the exit doors—and by waiting, I mean he’s got one hand on some random’s ass while his head is buried in her neck. I can’t tell from this distance who it is, nor do I care. Dad told us to respect girls. As far as I can tell, Nick’s version of respecting females is giving each one the same amount of attention.

“Um, hey Nathan,” she says as I pull my jacket from my locker.

“Yeah?” I fish around the side pocket for my keys. Flipping them in my hand, I whistle. Nick pulls his head from the girl’s neck and gives me a nod.

After seeing my acknowledgment he returns to his girl, this time plastering his mouth against hers. She tries to climb him like a tree, so I guess it’s all good.

“Is Charlotte better? Rumor has it she’s coming back to school soon.” She trots alongside me because I don’t make any effort to regulate my pace to match hers. Sinclair’s an awkward girl, all limbs, braces, and terrible haircut. She trips right when we reach Nick and falls into his back. Even I cringe at this. Grabbing her arm, I set her upright. Her face is bright tomato red, and I choke back a laugh because the last thing this poor girl needs is anyone snickering at her.

Nick catches his balance and tightens his grip on his companion, who I now see is senior Abby Halifax. She’s a friendly sort of girl, and one that probably doesn’t mind that Nick’s attention is shorter than the lifespan of a lightning bug. They both turn to look at Sinclair, whose eyes are pinned to the floor. She clearly wishes that it would swallow her.

“Sorry,” Sinclair mumbles into her shoes.

“No worries.” Nick gives Abby another quick kiss and a pat on the ass that is clearly designed to signal her departure, but she sticks around, leaning against his body as if he’s her personal resting post. But her eyes aren’t on Nick; they’re roving over me, and I feel a little uncomfortable as she rubs herself against one Jackson while stripping the other mentally. I allow my jacket to fall forward, covering half my chest and my crotch.