DUTCH
Sol’s mom wouldn’t let us see him or tell us where he was. It hurt because she’s always loved us.
We used to sit at her table slurping tamales like hot pockets and butchering conversations with our pitiful Spanish vocabulary.
We learned to salsa at her hands. We picked up a secret obsession with dramatic telenovelas with Sol’s abuela. We attended her daughter’s quinceañera. Finn was chosen to escort her in because no one trusted Zane to do it and I wasn’t interested in donning a sparkly blue suit to match the kid’s dress.
But the light went out of Mrs. Pierce’s eyes when she saw us at the door this morning. She couldn’t smile. There was no laughter or welcome. I saw in her gaze that she thinks we’re a bad influence.
She’s right.
But damn. That doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make the guilt any better either.
Sol is family. We got him into Redwood Prep. He sang back-up vocals for some of our sets. He was the only friend allowed around our table at lunch. Sometimes, people thought we were four brothers. Most days, it felt like it.
I slow the car down in our designated spot. There’s no clear marker or sign to set it apart, but it’s established that the Cross park their ride here.
Zane and Finn have their own set of wheels, but they always leave school with a chick on the cheerleading squad. Of course they don’t admit that. They tell everyone we ride in one car because we’re ‘environmentally conscious’.
I drag my bag out of the backseat, kick the door open and set my boots on the pavement.
Finn joins me, his lips set in a thin line.
Zane runs a hand through his hair, wearing his frustration in a dark scowl.
I walk alongside my brothers in thoughtful silence. The stir we cause as we make our way up the stairs of Redwood Prep barely penetrates my senses.
Normally, I can tune out the chatter, but it’s noisy today. We’ve been gone for a month and the kids had enough time to find a new reason to revere us.
As we walk through the hallway, gazes stick to our backs like magnets to steel. No one approaches us though. They know better than to get in our way. Call us stuck up. Call us jerks and bastards. We’ve had far too many ‘friends’ try to get close thinking it’s a one-way ticket to the Jarod Cross. After a few let-downs, we’ve learned that it’s better to keep to ourselves.
The only person who managed to prove he really had our back was Sol.
And we let him down in the worst way.
Finn sticks his hands into his pockets. “You said you had a plan, Dutch.
You want to enlighten us now?”
“Not in the freaking hallway,” I growl back. Finn gives me a dark look.
I scrape a hand through my hair. We’re all on edge, but I don’t want to turn on my brothers. Lowering my tone, I glance at him. “I’ll tell you in the practice room.”
He nods.
‘Hey, Zane.’ “Hey, Finn’ ‘Hey, Dutch’
A chorus of greetings erupt from cheerleaders in short skirts. They flounce down the hallway, their flowery perfume filling my senses.
I’m pretty sure we’ve taken a turn with the best of them at least once.
Although Zane’s been known to double-dip.
Girls at Redwood Prep have no problem throwing themselves at us. Most of the time, they don’t even care which one of us they’re kneeling in front of. As long as they get to work off one of The Kings, that’s all they need.
It’s getting old.
Or maybe I’m just getting jaded.
Somehow, I’ve stopped milking up the attention the way Zane seems to. “By the way, I got a call from Bex Dane’s manager. They want us to
play at the November Festival this year. You interested?” Finn asks.
“I’m down.” Zane pushes his lips toward me. “But our broody leader might pass for the fun of it.”
“They’re trying to entice us to sign with them. It’s so obvious,” I say. Finn shrugs and nods his agreement.
“Dad’ll hate it.” Zane seems almost gleeful.
“If we do something stupid just to get back at dad, then we’re no better than he is.”
“He’s got a point,” Finn says.
“I know. I hate when he does that.” Zane sighs. “No offense, Dutch. But sometimes I get the incredible urge to punch you in the… face.”
My brother gawks at someone coming out of a classroom. Finn and I don’t need to turn around to see who’s got Zane’s tongue. But we do it anyway because we appreciate a good view and the one Miss Jamieson makes is worth the drool slipping down my twin’s chin.
A short skirt wraps around Miss Jamieson’s sweet chocolate thighs. A nice rack that would win a ten out of ten in any man’s books is nicely contained in a crisp silk blouse under a black jacket. Her hair’s a riot of curls that taper down to mid-back. Her brown eyes are sharp and commanding, and the way they look now, surrounded by dark grey eye shadow, makes her seem edgy and untouchable.
Everything about her is alluring. She’s the s*xiest teacher in Redwood Prep and she walks like she knows it.
She also walks right past Zane, whose face is more flushed than a kid without sunscreen.
It’s sad the way my brother can’t get over that one night with her—a night Miss Jamieson made sure to call a ‘mistake’ when she found out that Zane was barely legal and a student at her new school.
Since then, she pretends he doesn’t exist and Zane pretends that flirting with her is just a ploy to piss her off.
“Miss Jamieson,” Zane says, easing into the practiced smile that usually leads to a girl getting on her back.
“Mr. Cross.” Our Lit teacher stops in front of him, the only sign of her discomfort is the way she tightens her hands on her books. “I see you and your brothers have returned from tour.”
Zane holds her gaze and steps closer. “Did you miss me?”
Her lips curl up, but it’s not the smile of a gullible cheerleader or a fanatic groupie who’s blinded by Zane’s good looks. It’s a polite, tight- lipped smile with an undercurrent of annoyance.
“I missed you about as much as you probably missed doing your homework. Which,” she lifts a finger, “by the way, your reports are still due at the end of the month.”
Zane steps up to her. His eyes are roving her face as if he’s trying to inscribe it in his memory. His lips curl up. He doesn’t hide how much he likes what he’s seeing.
Not only that.
He’s not hiding how much he wants to be close to her.
I’m not used to that glimmer of affection in his gaze. Zane never lets anyone near enough to get under his skin.
“I might need a little help,” Zane whispers. “You know. After-hours.” “Then I suggest you get a tutor,” she says, stepping back. Her teeth sink
into her bottom lip.
He tilts his head. “I’d rather learn from the source.”
Her eyes narrow on him. “I’m sorry, but I’m very busy, Mr. Cross.” “Call me, Zane.” He leans close. “You did that night.”
Her eyes widen and her books splatter out of her hands. They fall to the ground in a loud thud.
Everyone around us turns to watch.
Miss Jamison’s skin would probably be on fire if she wasn’t such a dark complexion. When she feels all the eyes lingering on her, she firms her shoulders. Flames pour from her gaze and she wrenches away the books that Zane picks up.
“Thank you,” she says loud enough for everyone to hear. Then she lowers her voice and snarls, “Mention that night again and I’ll take it as
your confession of love to me.” She breathes out. “And before you do so I have to remind you that I date men, not little boys. You’re not a candidate.”
Finn and I both arch an eyebrow. Zane blinks in a dazed shock.
Miss Jamison’s heels click on the tiles as she turns sharply and saunters away, her curls bouncing against her back.
I’m slightly impressed. Miss Jamieson knows who we are at Redwood Prep and she’s not afraid to push back at Zane. It takes guts to throw his feelings back in his face without fear of the consequences.
Zane points in her direction. “Did she just…” “Yeah.” Finn slaps his shoulder.
I shake my head. The entire situation is forbidden and messed up and so full of drama that it’s no wonder Zane’s embroiled in the scandal. Of course, he would pick a teacher over all the easy women who’d love to be chased by him.
“Even if you graduated tomorrow, you’re never tapping that again,” I say, closing Zane’s jaw and steering him away before he smacks into an open locker.
He snarls at me. “Who said I wanted to?” Finn just smirks secretly.
Zane lifts his chin. “I don’t care about her.” “No?” I ask.
“Not even a little?” Finn taunts.
“Look.” He points to his pants. “I’m over it. There’s nothing. No action.”
I snort and push Zane away. “No one wants to see that, you pervert.” “I’m serious.” He swaggers forward. “Who’d want a stick-up-her-butt
teacher anyway? Honestly?”
“It seems like somebody does,” Finn says.
Zane whirls around, almost slamming into our brother. “What?”
“Word on the street is she’s got a boyfriend. Some guy in a Lambo picked her up last week. Apparently, they looked cozy.”
“How do you know that?” Zane’s nostrils flare.
“Someone paid Jinx for the information.” Finn tilts his head. “Seems you’re not the only student at Redwood who’d like to bang our Lit teacher.” Zane turns fully, his eyes pinned to Miss Jamieson. She’s in the hallway speaking to a student. Her laughter rings out over the chatter and thud of
footsteps.
Zane’s body tenses and a vein pops out before he takes a deep breath. “Whatever. Like I said. I don’t care.”
Finn and I exchange glances. I laugh softly.
Finn chuckles.
Zane pierces us with his gaze. “I hate the both of you.” He sticks an accusing hand in my direction. “Who are you to judge me, huh? At least I wasn’t afraid to make my move. We all know that you’re a lost cause.”
“What are you talking about?” I growl.
“Soprano Jones or whatever her name was.” Zane points an accusing finger. “You were eye-banging her hard at the showcase, but you haven’t tried to find her.”
Something deep inside squeezes at the mention of the redhead. I start walking. “We’re going to be late for class.”
“Since when did you care about being on time for class?” Zane accuses, speeding up.
Finn lounges behind us, but he’s still got that amused look on his face.
They’re both annoying.
A musical chime fills the hallways, Redwood Prep’s version of a school bell. Kids rush past us, hurrying to their classes.
Zane curses. “I don’t even remember what class we’re supposed to be in right now.” He glances at Finn. “Do you?”
“I didn’t get a chance to check the schedules.” “It’s Algebra,” I say.
Zane slings a hand over my shoulder. “I’m impressed, Dutch. You don’t normally care about that stuff.”
I grit my teeth. It’s not that I’m suddenly crazy about math. There’s just someone I have to meet in that class.
We enter and a hush falls on the room. I sweep a bored gaze over the kids in the front row, observing methodically until I get to the back.
That’s when I spot her. New Girl.
I recognize her face from the few, grainy photos I managed to dig up on social media, but the chick in front of me looks way more appealing in real life than she did on a screen.
Pale skin, lean waist, nice rack. She’s got that fresh-faced beauty thing going with her big, innocent eyes and round face. The skirt she’s wearing is a little too short for her long legs and her chest is straining against her top.
The tight clothes don’t seem to be for attention. She hunches over in her chair and doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as if she wants to blend into the background. It’s a weird contrast of innocent and s*xy. Cold and hot. Alluring and stand-offish.
I hate that I notice.
I hate that my pants are starting to tighten. It only gets worse when I spot her mouth.
Those pouty lips are luscious. The bottom is way bigger than the top.
Plump. Pink. Made for sin. Exactly like the redhead. Damn.
Am I so obsessed with the mystery girl that every girl is starting to look like her?
“Alright, boys,” our algebra teacher enters the room, “if you’d kindly find your seats. Class is about to begin.”
I startle a little and stalk to a desk in the middle of the classroom. Finn and Zane are right behind me.
“What are you staring at?” Finn asks quietly.
I twist around in my seat and jut my chin at New Girl. “Her.”
New Girl glances up and catches the three of us staring. A red flush spreads across her face and she instantly stiffens. Turning away as if we’re Medusa, she covers her face with a hand and sinks behind her textbook.
Zane twists around too, his chair creaking with the movement. “A transfer? I’ve never seen her before.”
“What do you think about her?” I ask. “Beautiful but insecure. Strange combination.” “Must be a virgin,” Finn adds thoughtfully.
Zane looks impressed. “You on the hunt for a virgin, Dutch?” I grind my teeth together. “That’s not it.”
My eyes drag to New Girl again.
Jinx called her fragile and I think that’s a good description. Delicate. Dainty. Dangerous. There’s something about her lean body in the Redwood Prep uniform that screams ‘easily broken’, but Jinx made a point to caution me against underestimating her.
Finn gives me a questioning stare. “Who is she?”
“I’ll tell you in the practice room,” I say, scowling at New Girl who’s still ducking behind her textbook.
After class, she’s the first one out the door with a swish of her too-short skirt and scuffed tennis shoes.
I rise lazily and slip a hand into my pocket, watching her take off down the hallway. It doesn’t matter how hard or how fast she runs, I’m kicking her out of Redwood Prep. One way or another.
“I can’t wait until the practice room,” Zane says, folding his arms over his chest.
“Too many people are in here,” I say.
“That’s a problem that’s easily solved.” Zane rises to his full height and walks a couple steps away.
Immediately, the kids who are lingering turn to him. “Everybody. Out!” Zane yells.
The hectic thud of footsteps and squeaking of chairs is followed by an immediate silence.
“There. We’ve got the room to ourselves,” Zane says smugly. He swings his leg over the chair in front of me and mounts it backward.
Finn leans toward me. “Spill it, Dutch. What’s going on with you and the New Girl?”
I face them. “Remember Jinx’s message about Mulliez putting someone in Sol’s place?”
The nod.
“She’s the reason Sol can’t come back to Redwood.” Questions jump to life in their eyes.
Finn folds his arms over his chest. “She’s the one who took his spot?” I dip my chin once.
Zane’s jaw clenches. “That b—”
“If we get her out, Sol can come back.”
“That’s if Sol’s parents even want him to come back,” Finn points out.
Guilt twists inside me again, edging to the front of my mind. Sol took the rap for us. There’s no other option than to return him to his rightful place.
“Of course they want him to come back,” Zane says confidently.
Finn scrubs his chin. “I don’t like this. Sol would have found a way to contact us if he could. There’s something we don’t know.”
“You think Jinx knows where he is?” Zane asks.
I give him a sideways look. “You trust Jinx now?”
“She’s got eyes everywhere. Maybe those eyes extend to Sol.” “It’s worth a shot,” Finn agrees.
“Contacting Sol comes later. We gotta have something to offer him first.” I hesitate for a moment before I let my brothers in on my plan. “I want to run New Girl out of Redwood Prep and I need your help.”
The statement rings in the air. The silence echoes.
Both my brothers peer up at me, obviously trying to make sense of what I’m saying.
We get what we want because our dad’s influence is heavy on Redwood Prep. People stay out of our way naturally. And we have our own code. We don’t ever target punks who haven’t done us a personal wrong.
New Girl’s in that grey area and I know it might not sit well with them to go after her, but it’s what we have to do. What I have to do. For Sol’s sake.
“What if she leaves on her own?” Finn asks.
“You want us to warn her first?” Zane purses his lips.
I shrug. “Fine. I’ll warn her first,” I say to Finn, because he seems the most unsettled. “Give her a chance to walk away for her own good.”
“And if she doesn’t take that chance?” Zane asks.
I focus on the desk where New Girl had been hunched over. “Then I’m going to turn her life at Redwood Prep into a living hell.”
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Dutch: Dig up the biggest piece of dirt on New Girl that you have. I’m prepared to pay.
Jinx: Oh-ho. What has New Girl done to get the kings of Redwood all riled up?
Dutch: None of your business.
