Trouble at Brayshaw High (Brayshaw High 2)

He walks past and like the pathetic bitch I’ve become, I follow.

It only takes fifteen minutes to get to the pizza place, already loaded with sweater vest douchebags and their scarf wearing women.

I choose the booth in the farthest back corner, and after a few minutes of balancing the salt shaker, Collins comes over with the waitress.

When I don’t order, he orders for us and suddenly a pitcher of beer is delivered. For a second, I wonder if he’d slip some Molly in it or not, but when he steps over to one of the dozen metal tubs full of ice and bottle beer, offering one to me, I decide it’s safe and go for the fresh draft instead.

Surprisingly, Collins doesn’t act like a dick to me in front of his buddies, probably because he knows I’d embarrass him should he attempt to. He actually makes an effort to get me to have a good time, offers me to join each new game of darts and makes sure I always have a fresh bottle of beer until I tell him I’m done for the night – I’m not stupid, I’d never get drunk and leave myself for him to handle. I thought maybe that was his plan, but he actually snapped at another blond dude when he set a beer on my table and asked the waitress to bring me a water.

I’m not sure what he’s playing at by acting like a decent human, and I don’t care enough to need to know why.

The others here tonight, though, they do.

They watch him discreetly as he returns to me for what must be the seventh or eighth time. I grin at how they’re no longer able to hold in their evil eyes and instead toss them my way.

The queen bee of Graven Prep – who I plucked from the pack within the first few minutes of being here – is equivalent to Chloe from Brayshaw and just as pretty. She’s also just as predictable in her territorial ways.

She glares and slides up next to Collins as if she expects me to give a damn, so I wink back with a grin.

He’s all yours, princess.

As if she can read my patronizing thoughts, she flips me off, scooting even closer, but Collins glances at me and puts distance between them as if I care.

But I have no time to even roll my eyes at him because the girl’s sudden move to the right leaves a gap, allowing me to see straight across the room where I couldn’t see before.

Tucked away in the opposite corner is a familiar blonde with long legs and clothes that don’t quite fit the crowd she’s trying to mold into.

A tautness finds my shoulders as I squint to see better.

The girl shifts in her seat, turning so the guy beside her can stick his tongue farther down her throat, and my teeth clench.

My feet work on their own, leading me straight across the room.

She can’t see me coming, not with her eyes closed the way they are, but everyone else in this place does.

I lift the glass of red wine – at a fucking pizza pub – at her side and pour it over her head.

She gasps, popping to her feet and spinning toward me.

In the same second, I shove her, sending her tumbling back into one of the ice tubs full of bottled beers. I lift my knee, jamming it into her abdomen as hard as I can, punching her clear across the jaw.

She whimpers and tries to shove me off, but when her frantic eyes pop up to meet mine, she freezes.

Yes, bitch. You recognize me.

Blood begins to dribble over her now quivering lips and hurried steps sound behind me.

In one quick, smooth motion, I spin my upper body, pull out and flick open my knife.

Every single person steps back.

My eyes snap to Collins who raises his hands slowly, cutting a curious eye from me to the blonde.

A crease forms over his forehead as he slides his hands in his pockets and moves farther away, and with their leader’s okay, the others relax around him, moving even farther than he did.

I narrow my eyes at him, but he simply shrugs and nods his chin, telling me to get on with it.

This only makes my frown intensify and my adrenaline pump harder.

Wary and aware of all movement around me, I turn to the girl while slowly closing my knife, but keeping it in my palm.

“Not so nice seeing me again, is it?” I bend, getting into her face, twisting my knee more and more, watching tears fill her pathetic eyes as she sinks deeper into the container. “This is the life you craved? Hm?”

When she opens her mouth to speak, I cut her off.

“You gave him up” — my body starts shaking — “her up, for this shit? Free fucking drinks and Friday nights out?”