Monsters' Crew (Crude Hill High 1)

Father’s rules.

I hated him more than I hated anything else. If I had the courage to do one thing in my miserable life, it would be to take a blade to his fucking neck, slice him open, and watch as the blood leaked from his useless, pathetic body. He was a scary piece of shit.

All of our families were. There were rarely any coward’s kids, but it did happen. There were bastard kids as well. Drake, one of those kinds of kids, came in. He had short hair, a torn shirt, and ink completely covered his arms. He took one look at Bucati and went in for a pretend attack.

Bucati was used to this and didn’t even flinch. On the first day, he did and went running to the principal. From that day forward, he had to learn to grow a spine. I imagined the teachers here got paid a fortune. Money always changed hands when they were told to look the other way.

Drake dropped down into a chair, spreading his legs out. He was the bastard of one of the English family’s gangs. His father owned part of London or something, and he was the one who kept the streets clean. Drake was a loose cannon. Rumor had it he came from a rapist father, and he wasn’t used to being told no.

He was one of the few guys I steered well away from. Catching him on a bad day led to bad things.

The activity in the room paused. There was no need for me to see who had actually entered. For all of Drake’s craziness, it didn’t take the whole Monster Crew to create tension. It only needed one, and right now, Caleb Falls had entered the classroom.

The girls were all fawning over him. Me, I stayed perfectly still, used to keeping to myself. It was the only way to survive in hell.

****

Caleb

“Dude, Bucati is a pussy. You remember what happened to him on the first day of school?” River asked. He bent down, grabbed a stone, and launched it across the parking lot toward the English teacher.

I smirked. There was nothing else to do.

Watching Bucati wander the school halls as if he was better than all of us pissed me off. It got on all of our nerves. Mr. English could keep his dick in his pants, but I’d been present when my father finally decided to pay a visit, and it hadn’t been pretty. Bucati pissed himself. Begged for his life. Then actually got down on his hands and knees and offered his body for personal use. Anything. My father had turned to me and told me this was what weak looked like.

I’d never forget it.

Since then, Bucati was paid, not well. The other teachers made sure they got a good deal out of it. Every now and then, he’d turn up at my father’s house to do what needed to be done. If it was a deal that needed to be sealed with a nice fuck, Bucati was there.

I didn’t like him.

Bucati acted the part of authority, like he was above all of us, but I saw the way he looked at some of the girls who came to this school. While my father believed he had Bucati made, I knew men like him would use an opportunity to screw up a bigger deal. Virginal girls were still a huge prize in our world. Unlike the exclusive, keep-it-in-the-family mafia, who didn’t frequent this school, our girls were still expected to act the part most of the time.

Some of the girls who went here were just pawns in their fathers’ lives. They had no chance of going up in the world, just down.

Getting laid was easy. There were many willing females. Some students, even teachers. I think Gael was the one to prove that a married civilian woman’s love meant nothing. A sweet little scientist had come to the school a few months ago, flashing her ring, again, looking rather smug. All it had taken were a few choice words from Gael, and she’d been bent over her desk, begging for his cock to be driven into her ass. For added proof and I was guessing pleasure, Gael had filmed the entire thing. Once he was done with her, he’d made her lick his cock squeaky clean and then smile at the camera.

It was what Gael liked to do. If there was ever a job that required toying with someone, he was always the first one in line.

“I’m not interested in throwing stones at people.” I jumped off the wall and headed to my car. Another gift from my father for a job well done. Where most of the people who went to Crude Hill High were still trying to prove themselves to their respective families, to earn their part, I had my place. I had the ink making me part of the Monsters’ Crew. All four of us had earned our spot.