Chapter 2
Casey: Sixteen Years Old
“West-End trash…”
Nylah turned her head to glare in the direction of Amanda Kerr and the Barbie Squad, narrowing her eyes at them.
I knew she was about to go off on the girls, but she couldn’t afford a possible suspension.
Not with it being the very start of basketball season of our senior year, so I quickly straightened up from where I was leaning against the lockers, and called over, “It’s kind of funny when we get to hear you use your entire vocabulary in one sentence. ”
Amanda’s bubblegum pink mouth dropped open, her pale blue eyes narrowing before she flung her overly dyed blonde hair over her shoulder and readied herself to come back at me.
She stretched a leg out, shifted all her weight to one hip, a sign that something nasty was coming my way before she smiled and said, “Once a Harley Rat, always a Harley Rat. You’re lower than the shit on my shoe. You’re not even worth my next breath.”
Her friends guffawed like a bunch of hyenas while their queen smirked at me.
But Nylah was the real Queen of this school, and as hard as Amanda tried, she would never be able to take her place.
And right now? Nylah was pissed and ready to go into full attack mode.
I reached out, gently pulling her back by her shoulder, and shook my head at her.
“Basketball…” I whispered so only she could hear.
She was practically vibrating beneath my hand.
Her grey eyes were fixated on Amanda and her squad, but the weight of that one word was everything to her.
She needed to keep her record clean if she wanted a full scholarship to McGill to play basketball while earning her science degree.
I stepped ahead, placing myself before her, not afraid to get another week of detention if it should come to that.
I’ve faced worse than the likes of Amanda Kerr and her Bitch Barbie’s.
I smiled at her sweetly, tilting my head to the side like I would as if I were talking to a toddler, and said, “I’ve been called worse by better… from Harley.”
We didn’t stick around to see her reaction.
As much as I didn’t mind getting into another fight, I knew Mom would be disappointed.
So I had my say, hooked my arm through Nylah’s, and turned us, heading down the hall away from the high-pitched shrieks, name-calling, and insults following us, as Amanda lost her shit.
“You should have just let me deal with her, “ Nylah grumbled, allowing me to steer her away.
I almost wanted to laugh. As tough as she was, Nylah really was just a sweetheart through and through, which was part of the reason why she was so popular.
She was smart as hell, nice to everyone, and beyond beautiful.
She was of mixed heritage, with her dad originally from South Africa, while her mother’s family was from Germany.
Her skin was always tanned and flawless and glowy, which only made her grey eyes stand out even more, and she had a sprinkle of tiny freckles across her nose.
Her chocolate-colored hair with its natural blonde highlights was super full and curly, and I watched it enviously as it bounced with each step she took.
She was statuesque, tall and athletically built, made to play sports.
Add to the fact that her dad was a detective with the Ashland police, only raised her cool-factor with the kids at our school on The Hill.
And of all people that she chose to befriend, she had chosen me.
I came here at ten years old, right at the beginning of November, fresh out of Harley with my mother and her new doctor boyfriend, Matthew Hart.
Being from Harley immediately had taken points away in terms of my social standing.
The fact that I had an attitude and was ready with a fist cocked to anyone who gave me a hard time?
Well, let’s just say I gained a reputation fast. Mom sobbed and begged me to be good, and even though I hated making her cry, old habits die hard.
I was used to getting into physical altercations or running my mouth.
It was how I’d survived since birth and had never gotten me into trouble up until this point.
Now, I was expected to hold my tongue and to turn the other cheek when someone insulted me or if I sensed a threat.
Despite the fact I ended up in detention every day those first two weeks in November, I felt like I should be getting a medal for not giving any of the other kids stitches for the shit they were pulling.
Used, wet gym socks somehow had made it inside my locker (the smell stuck around for almost a month after).
A girl had cut off a chunk of my hair with her scissors in art, to which I responded by simply ripping out a sizable chunk of her own straight from the roots.
The new bike Matthew had bought me as a welcome-to-your-new-home present was vandalized: the tires had been slashed, the seats torn up with the stuffing removed, and the words; ‘Harley Rat’, ‘Trash’, ‘CB Whore’, and ‘Go home’ carved into the paint.
I’d heard that Amanda Kerr and her friends had been behind it, but there was no proof.
Only speculation. Despite all the bullying I endured, the school did nothing and determined that I was the problem.
There were phone calls from my mom and Matthew to the principal, meetings were arranged, and the parents of other kids were notified.
In the end, I was told I had to change my ways if I wanted to be accepted at this school with their esteemed and highly prestigious students.
Only Nylah reached out to me.
She’d returned from a vacation in the middle of November, having missed the “welcome” I’d received, and walked right over to my empty table at lunch, then started firing questions my way.
At first, I’d been suspicious as hell. No one was this nice on purpose.
I ignored her, throwing out the fancy lunch Matthew’s cook had made for me, and hurried off to class.
But she just wouldn’t leave me alone. Everywhere I went, she popped up, chattering away and being all friendly and shit.
I tried to lose her, but she was relentless.
Eventually, I grew tired of trying to ditch her, and my loneliness kicked in.
I used to have three friends… three great friends.
We were practically siblings. But after I moved here, they ended up cutting me out.
None of them had called me back, answered my letters, or bothered to come to visit like they’d promised.
When I tried to arrange to see them, I was ghosted.
It was like I never existed. So fine. Fuck ‘em , I’d thought, and accepted Nylah Bryant’s hand in friendship.
And what a weird one, at that.
I’d never had girlfriends. After being around boys for my whole life, I felt like the girly stuff was a scary new prospect that I wasn’t sure I was ready for.
I’d been wearing my school uniform in the most disheveled of ways so that I was more comfortable than presentable.
I wore my white button-up shirt untucked, tie loose, and I bought my navy cardigan several sizes too big so that it was swimming on me.
Nylah, being the girly girl that she was, went to work on me the day I finally accepted the fact that she wasn’t going anywhere.
It took some time, but when puberty hit, I finally gave in to the girlish side of me that was apparently dying to come out.
I dyed my dark hair a shade of lilac, relented on wearing clothes that actually fit my body, but still preferred to walk around in a pair of black combat boots.
Meanwhile, at my side, Nylah walked with grace in a pair of shiny black and white heeled oxfords. At five foot ten, she towered over my five foot five. She liked to tease me by resting her elbow on the top of my head like I was a piece of furniture.
Now, however, we sat in the atrium that overlooked the quad, our usual lounging corner vacant so we could sit and chat in a pair of cozy, gingerbread brown leather chairs.
It was toasty warm inside and a perfect spot to get some sun on the first actual cold day of the Fall, lounging at the glass wall that looked over the courtyard.
It was the last week of September, and we’ve had more sunny days than not.
But today, there was actually ice on the windows that had formed beautiful crystal patterns around the edges, and for a few minutes, we sat in silence, enjoying the peace.
“A biker came by again,” Nylah confessed, finally.
I glanced up at her, brows raised, “Where?”
“Outside my house last night.”
“Are you sure it’s not just one of your neighbors who got themselves a bike?
You know, suffering from a mid-life crisis or something.
” She was convinced that MC guys have been following her around for the past month or so.
The more she saw them, the more she started to panic, and I did my best to reassure her that these weird sightings were just coincidences.
People rode bikes. None of this was unusual.
However, it was strange how much they seemed to pop up wherever she went.
“In our neighborhood?” Nylah bit her bottom lip. Her usually calm demeanor was now anxious as she tapped the arm of the lounger over and over. “Come on, Case… no one where we live would be caught dead riding a chopper, especially this time of year with it getting cold again.”