5. Juliet
5
JULIET
I eye the girl standing before me in a pair of jean cut-offs so short I’m shocked they still manage to cover most of her ass. Principal Long doesn’t even blink at the bare midriff the chick is sporting beneath the ripped black t-shirt that reads ‘suck on this’—as if she’s long since overcome the idea of enforcing a dress code amongst the crowd at Silverwood Public.
“Juliet Donovan, meet Roquel Lee.”
The girl—Roquel—blows the gum she’s chewing into a bubble that pops across her lips. Her tongue swipes out, gathering the sticky pink substance, and brings it back into her mouth before she finally takes a step forward and holds out her hand to me. “Nice to meet you.”
I grimace but take her hand regardless and drop it quickly after the greeting is finished.
“Your punishment regarding this morning’s fight will be an in-school suspension Tuesday through Friday,” Long states. “I’d rather not start out today since, well, we don’t have anyone to watch you and no one else will be there. I’ll speak with Megan about what happened this morning. I’d put her in ISS too … if I thought the two of you could be trusted to be alone in a room together. As it stands, I don’t. So, her punishment will either be the following week or something else.”
I don’t comment.
“Roquel here,” Long continues, “is going to be your guard dog for the rest of today.”
“Guard dog?” I blurt. Are principals allowed to say that?
Long reads me clear as fucking day because the second she looks at my face, she burst out laughing. “Yeah, kiddo,” she replies, wiping one finger beneath her eyes even as she ignores my earlier demand. “Cory warned me you’d need one. Thanks for that—I lost our little bet.”
“Cory?” She knew Cory? What the hell did my gym’s owner have to do with Principal Long?
She smirks and leans down. I’m not super short, but I’m certainly no five-foot-ten model like she is. “Keep up the training,” she says, lowering her voice. “If you’re gonna make it through a senior year here, you’ll need it.” With that, she straightens, nods to Roquel, and turns around to walk away.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Seconds tick by and then Roquel pops around my side and leans closer. “You ready to go?” she asks.
I’m ready to move towns and change identities, but short of winning the lottery, I have no more money and no way to leave Silverwood. I’d sleep in my car if I could, but I sold that to be able to afford the rent and utilities on my new apartment and pad the money I’m relying on until I can get a part-time job.
“Yeah.” I blow out a breath. “I’m ready.”
“Great!” she chimes. “So, like Principal Long said, I’m Roquel and I guess I’m your school guide now. Do you have your schedule already?”
Without a word, I reach into my bag and pull out the crinkled schedule I printed off at the local library the week prior. She snatches it from my hand and holds it up to her face, squinting her already slenderly shaped eyes as she reads.
“‘Kay, so it looks like you have homeroom with me,” she says, pointing to the classroom she’d just been called out of. “So, remember this place, ‘cause this is where you have to show up every morning.”
“Got it.” My foot starts tapping.
“Let’s see what else you’ve got here…” Roquel drifts off and then releases a slow whistle. “Damn, your shit is packed. No study hall or anything?” She glances up at me.
“I want to graduate early,” I say. The sooner I graduate, the sooner I can apply to a college and potentially get accepted for either an early semester or a summer program.
She clicks her tongue, popping a smaller bubble of gum with her teeth. “Yeah, well, if you can manage to keep up with these classes then you probably will.” Her eyes scan the paper some more and in a quieter tone, she mutters, “Or at least you’ll only be here for like an hour or two second semester.” She shrugs. “Lots of the smart ones end up doing that and working overtime to earn money before they’re completely on their own.”
I don’t feel the need to respond as she turns and starts walking, taking my schedule with her. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour of Silverwood Public and then point out all your classes. First period will last for another thirty minutes, so you should be able to make second period without an issue.”
To my surprise, there’s no animosity in her tone. She makes it to the end of the hall before she realizes I’m not with her, and when she does, she stops and looks back, waiting for me. “You coming?”
I eye her yet again, but if she’s not going to ask questions then I’m not going to encourage her to. I pull my bag onto my back and stride towards her. “Lead the way.”
Roquel does just that. Though slightly shorter than me, Roquel’s legs pick up speed as she walks. “That’s the freshman hall—the sophomore hall—junior hall—library is up the stairs.” Roquel gestures as she moves, looking up from my schedule as we move through the school. “Chem labs are down this way—you’ve got that fifth period,” she states as we turn a corner and pass a row of empty pinboards anchored to the hallway walls.
Unlike Silverwood Prep, Silverwood Public isn’t as well maintained. Though clean, there are portions of walls with peeling paint, scuffs on the cheap tiled floor, and mysterious stains on the ceilings that I’d rather not think about.
We’re about fifteen minutes into the tour when I think it finally dawns on this girl that I haven’t said a word in more than half that time. She slows to a stop at the mouth of one of the hallways and turns back to me. I pause, too, as her eyes travel up from my once-clean sneakers to my jeans and then up to my face.
She tilts her head to the side. “You don’t like me, do you?”
“I don’t know you enough to dislike you.”
Roquel sighs. “I thought you’d be more stuck up—complaining about the lack of facilities and shit—but I guess after everything that’s happened, I’m not too surprised by the attitude.”
“What do you mean?”
She turns back towards the hallway and starts walking again. This time though, she lowers her hand and folds up my schedule before tucking it into her back pocket. I’ll have to remember to get that back from her—I’d rather not have to catch another public bus to the library if I can help it, and with how things are going so far with teachers, I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to print it off again here at the school.
“You know,” Roquel says, completely ignoring my question. “It would be better for you to at least try to be nice while you’re here. They say you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”
“I’m not trying to catch anyone,” I reply tartly. Who the fuck is this girl?
Roquel ignores my statement and continues. “Public can be pretty rough if you don’t have any friends.”
Is she offering to be my friend? I blanch. “What makes you think I want to make friends?” The only reason I’m even in school is because it’s my last resort to get the fuck out of Silverwood. If I don’t graduate then any hope of escaping to a decent college is gone.
Her short black hair shifts as she looks over her shoulder at me, and her lips twitch. “A princess from Silverwood Prep in a public school?” She snorts to herself. “Yeah, they’ll eat you alive if you don’t have anyone to back you up—whether you realize it or not, girl, you totally need some friends that’ll back you up.”
“I don’t think I qualify as a princess anymore,” I remind her.
I continue to follow Roquel until we come to a standstill, and when I take a look around, I realize we’ve traversed the whole school and we’re back in the cafeteria attached to the main hall. The sounds of clanking and metal on metal grind my nerves as the lunch ladies hurry to clean up breakfast and move on to prepare the first round of school lunches. Roquel spins in a circle until she faces me. Clasping her hands behind her back, she rocks back and forth on her feet. She seems nice—polite even and not nearly as hostile as I was expecting—but that doesn’t mean shit. Even nice people have dark sides to them.
“What happened this morning is only going to keep happening.” She offers me the warning in a casual tone.
I tilt my head in her direction. “I figured as much,” I admit, then with a slow smile, I lean back. “Bring it on.”
She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you,” she replies. “You caught Megan off guard, that’s all. No one actually expected you to fight back.”
“Or win.” I deadpan as I push past her and head for the front hall. Halfway there, I pause and turn back, holding out my hand. “I think I can take it from here,” I say. “I’ll need my schedule back.”
One dark brow arches and Roquel smiles. “Sure, but first let me give you some advice.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Save your advice,” I say.
She hums in the back of her throat, rocking back and forth on her heels once more. “Then no dice, chickadee. You want your schedule back? Then you gotta listen up.”
I turn to face her fully. “Why bother?” I demand. “I’m not going to be around long. Once senior year is through, I’m fucking out of this godforsaken town and you’ll all be a distant memory in my rearview.”
She smirks. “A lot can change in a year.”
A growl rumbles up my throat. “Fine,” I snap. If that’s the price of getting my goddamn schedule back, then so be it. “Spit it out.”
Roquel’s feet land flat on the ground and her smile drops away. “I know for a fact you were one of the rulers of your last school, Juliet Donovan,” she states. “Public has a hierarchy, too, and unfortunately for you, you’re now at the bottom of it.”
I cross my arms. “And I should give a fuck, why?” Despite my sharp question and tone, I sense the direction of the conversation as I recall Nolan Pierce’s hand gripping my upper arm in this very room. My fingers close over the same place now.
“You should give a hell of a lot of fucks,” Roquel says. “Because unlike your old school—bullying around here is a bit different. We don’t have any rich parties for you not to get invited to. Public plays rougher than that.” She shrugs. “It’s the only way we know how.”
“Okay?” The word slips out through gritted teeth.
“People here go for the throat and they’ll rip it out if you give them even an inch,” Roquel says. “That girl this morning? That’s Megan White. She’s one of Giovanni Vargas’ girlfriends.”
The name slips off her lips with a sigh. Every muscle in my body tenses. If anyone is as bad as Nolan Pierce or Alexio Medicci, it’s their best friend, Giovanni Vargas.
“I guarantee that if Megan can convince Gio that you’re deserving of attention, your life will get a hell of a lot harder. The Scorpion Kings will eat you alive.”
The Scorpion Kings. Even in Silverwood Prep they’re infamous—the three bastards of Silverwood, not so much in terms of blood but in attitude. They’re the worst of the worst. Drugs. Guns. Blackmail. Revenge. Despite the fact that they’re all still in high school, the three men known as the Scorpion Kings are extortionists and runners for Darrio Vargas—the defacto crime lord of Silverwood’s seedy underbelly.
To get involved with them would be the opposite of what I want—freedom.
Maybe a year ago, I would’ve cared about Roquel’s obvious caution or the threat they present. Maybe before I’d been fucked over and left behind to take all the heat, I would’ve listened to the girl trying to give me somewhat decent advice and information about my new circumstances. Unfortunately for her, though, I’m not who I was and I just don’t care anymore. Not about her and not about some group of assholes who consider themselves powerhouses to control the populace of Silverwood Public.
“Listen, Roquel,” I say, stopping her when she parts her lips to start talking again. “Whatever the hierarchy is here—it’s got nothing to do with me. If I’m on the totem pole, then you’re right, I’m at the bottom. I’m fine with that. I’m not looking to climb shit. I meant what I said this morning—everyone leaves me the fuck alone and I’ll mind my own business.”
Roquel sighs and offers me a sad smile. “If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t bother with this,” she admits. “But you’re not—you’re Juliet Donovan. You’re public enemy number one.” Her sad smile falls away and a flat look enters her eyes. “I’m not saying any of this to scare you. I’m trying to save your damn life.”
She steps closer until we’re nearly chest to chest. “So, take the fucking advice and find a friend or two—whatever you have to do to make that happen,” she says. “It doesn’t matter how good you are, you can't handle the entire school alone. The Scorpion Kings aren’t going to be fucked with if you step out of line.”
I meet her eye to eye. “Then I won’t step out of line.” It’s as simple as that. I’ll keep my head down and I won’t do a damn thing. I don’t want to get caught up in their illegal bullshit anyway. One criminal in my family is all I can truly stand.
"You already have,” Roquel replies. “Megan’s dad lost a lot because of yours. Her parents are divorcing because her mom found out he invested practically all of their savings into your Donovan-Calloway enterprises. They lost damn near everything and she and her mom are currently living with her alcoholic grandpa. She hates your father—ergo, she hates you too, and she has every intention of making your life miserable.”
Already there. “Okay,” I say. “Let her try. Not like I can stop it. She’ll learn that I’m not easy prey.”
A soft growl erupts from Roquel. “You’re not listening to me,” she snaps. “She’s fucking Gio and if she convinces him to get rid of you—he will. He might not even need to do it himself either. Nolan Pierce and Alexio Medicci would do anything for their boy. Everyone is pretty sure that Alexio Medicci kills people for the mob anyway.”
The mob? I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He, like his friends, deals drugs—the fact is undeniable considering I’ve seen him so often at various Prep parties trading little bags of weed or white powder for cash—but there’s no way the three of them are that dangerous.
“If Gio calls war on you because of Megan, you’re as good as fucked.” Roquel pauses a moment as if she wants that to sink in. “So, when I say find some friends, what I mean is when they come after you, and make no mistake, they will come after you—you’re going to need a lot more than some good reflexes to protect yourself.”
“I’m not here to fuck with anyone,” I tell her. “I’m not going to go out of my way to pay them back either. I just want to get my diploma and get out.”
She’s already shaking her head before I’ve finished. Her grip on the paper tightens as I reach for it. “You don’t get it,” she snaps, nearly jerking it away until I close my own fingers around the edge of the page. “It doesn’t matter what your intentions are. A lot of people lost their jobs—good people, people who were already living paycheck to paycheck, hand to mouth—and even if Mr. Calloway managed to save some, not everyone cares. Not everyone is as forgiving. They can’t get to your dad, they can’t get to your mom. All they have is you.”
Nothing she’s saying is new, but what is new is one person finally being brave enough to point out the obvious. With my dad in jail and Mom splitting town, there’s no one else for Silverwood to blame. I’m accessible. I’m related. I’m guilty by association.
Adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder, I turn away from her, pulling my schedule from her in a clean movement. “Thanks for the advice,” I say over my shoulder as I start walking. “But I’ll handle myself.”
“The Scorpion Kings are worse than Megan,” Roquel insists, her voice bouncing off the walls.
One of the lunch ladies lifts her head and gives the two of us a glare. I ignore her and shake my head. “Then I guess I’ll just have to be worse than them,” I say over my shoulder.
“ No one is worse than them,” she bites out.
Before Roquel can offer a response, the bell for next period rings and I hold up the hand with my schedule secured. “There’s a first for everything.” If anyone can be worse than the Scorpion Kings—it’s me.