The Art of Being Friends Read online

  “The police are just as bad at looking the other way, because they get bought off. And if they do try to do something about all the illegal crap going on in town, they end up like old Sheriff Bethrtor, may he rest in peace.” She draws a cross over her chest. “Although, I heard a rumor that we have a new sheriff in town, so maybe that’ll change. Doubtful, though.”

  Yeah, I doubt so, too, since my uncle isn’t the type of do-gooder guy who will turn down cash to do the right thing. Obviously, since he has a huge-ass stash of stolen drugs. But I’m not about to tell her that.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I mumble.

  She bobs her head up and down, dazing off for a minute. “But yeah, anyway, if you want to be smart and stay off the radar from all this corrupt shit, I’d recommend staying as far away from Zay, Jax, and Hunter as you can.” She steps closer and lowers her voice. “Jax comes from one of the wealthiest families in town, and Zay is his cousin and lives with him. No one knows why he lives with him, but he’s just as spoiled as Jax. I’ve heard rumors that his dad’s straight-up crazy. And Jax’s dad is a total asshole. He owns a huge part of the town, so a lot of people have to do what he says. It’s really weird.”

  I attempt to process the information she just gave me but, holy crap, this is weird. “Well, what about Hunter?”

  She goes all doe-eyed for a moment before hastily blinking away the look. “Hunter lives with Jax and Zay, too. His dad works for Jax’s dad as his”—she makes air quotes—“ ‘business consultant.’ But everyone around here is pretty sure he basically makes sure anything ugly that could potentially tarnish the Capperellie name gets wiped clean.”

  That sounds … sketchy. “Wiped clean how?”

  “I’m not sure, but there’re a few theories. One being …” She drags her finger across her throat. “So, yeah, if I were you, I’d stay away from them. Especially Hunter.”

  Does she really believe that? That Hunter’s dad kills people? Or does she just like to spread rumors?

  “Really? Because Zay seems scarier.”

  “Oh, Zay is completely scary,” she assures me. “He’s also into some really weird shit.”

  I adjust the books in my hand as we near my locker. “What kind of weird shit?”

  She lifts a brow. “What sort of weird stuff do you think I’m talking about?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  She gives me a look like I’m an idiot. “Sexual shit.”

  “Oh.” Now this is a topic of conversation I’m a bit unfamiliar with, being a virgin and all. Not that I’m some sort of prude who’s going to blush over this or something. And it’s not like I’m saving myself for marriage or anything like that. I’ve just never had the opportunity to have sex. I’ve never even been out on a date. I did get kissed once, but it was a stolen kiss that I refuse to ever think about.

  “I’m not positive how true the rumors are since I haven’t, and never will, go near Zay,” Katy continues, “but I’ve heard he’s into some really twisted stuff. And he never kisses anyone on the mouth and rarely touches anyone when he’s messing around with them. And I’ve heard he likes it rough.”

  Okay, I may be a little naïve when it comes to sexual stuff, but that seems a bit weird to me.

  “Why’s he like that?” I wonder, telling myself I’m only curious, not interested. Well, it might be a little bit of both.

  She shrugs. “Who the hell knows? I’ve heard, like, a ton of rumors about it, but the only people who really know the truth are Zay, Hunter, and Jax.”

  “They’re like best friends, right?” I stop in front of my locker and start to spin the combination.

  “No. They’re more than that,” she tells me. When she notices the confusion on my face, she adds, “It’s kind of hard to explain, but the three of them are like some sort of freaky, human wolf pack or something. When I first moved here, I thought they were brothers, but I quickly learned their relationship is tighter than that. They aren’t friends with anyone else, they never bring in outsiders, and they make no effort to associate with anyone, yet they always get invited to every party. It’s partially out of fear and partially because I think a lot of people are hoping they’ll be the lucky asshole who gets brought into their group.” She shakes her head with a disgusted look on her face. “I don’t know why they consider it lucky, though. They’re jerks. And crazy. And just …” She shakes her head again.

  “Sounds like you got a beef with them,” I say as I pull open my locker.

  She chews on her bottom lip. “Well, I hooked up with Hunter once. It was the biggest mistake of my life, something I realized right after, when he told me to take care and left me lying in bed naked. He didn’t even wait for me to get dressed before ditching me. And we were at his house, and he just took off, and …” She clears her throat. “Anyway, I should’ve known better, because that’s what Hunter does. He uses girls and everyone knows this, yet I somehow convinced myself that I’d be the one to change him.”

  “I’m sorry … I can kind of see how you fell for him, though. He seems really …” I waver for the right word. “Charming.”

  “You’ve talked to him?” she asks, and for the strangest second, I detect a hint of jealousy in her eyes.

  I nod, my guard going up even more. If she is jealous, then that means she’s not over him, and I don’t need any jealous girl drama on top of the drama Dixie May is going to cause for me.

  “Yeah, he was in the main office this morning when I picked up my schedule.” I choose my words carefully. “He just said hi, but I wasn’t really that interested in him.”

  Her brows elevate. “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  “How? I mean, you did see him, right?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  She gapes at me. “And you didn’t think he was hot?”

  “No.” Not a total lie. Yeah, I thought he was pretty, but I’m not about to tell her that aloud.

  She shakes her head, her jaw practically hanging to her knees. “You really are crazy, aren’t you?”

  I bump my locker shut. “I think we already established that, didn’t we?”

  Grinning, she points a finger at me. “You know what? I think you and I are going to be good friends.”

  That’s the second time someone has said that to me today, but that doesn’t mean I’m hopeful. No, I’ve had friends before. However, they ended the moment my parents died. For anyone else who thought to be my friend, they quickly reconsidered after they found out the truth. And I know it’ll always be that way, because no one wants to be friends with a murderer.

  Her lips part then close, her forehead creasing as she retrieves her phone from her pocket. She reads a message then curses. “Shit. I forgot I was supposed to meet the counselor at lunchtime.” She stuffs her phone into her pocket. “I gotta go, but if you want, you can sit by my friends at lunch. They sit at the table near the far back doors.” She backs away from me, moving down the hallway. “Most of them will have sketchbooks out, ’cause we’re all art nerds. But we’re cool. I promise.” She throws me a wave then spins around, her shoes squeaking against the linoleum as she hurries off.

  Sighing, I wander down the hallway, trying to decide whether or not I want to endeavor to the cafeteria or just skip lunch and pick something up on the walk home waiting for me at the end of the day. Normally, I skip lunch, mostly because of an incident in seventh grade when I got a tray of spaghetti dumped onto my head, then everyone started cracking jokes about how I must’ve killed someone again, that the spaghetti sauce was really blood. After that, I made a point to bring my lunch and eat it in the bathroom. Then, eventually, I started walking to food places to get something to eat. But I don’t know my way around town yet, so I’m unsure if I have time to make it to any fast food places in time.

  I could take up Katy’s offer and try to sit by her friends, but without her around, it just seems weird. And who knows if rumors have been spreading about me yet? I haven’t heard anything, so maybe Dixie May is
waiting to spill the gossip about me. Why she’s waiting, I have no damn clue.

  And what about this Zay guy? He warned me that he was going to show me my place in this town. Before, I wasn’t that worried, but after what Katy told me, I feel slightly apprehensive. I’d probably be scared shitless if I hadn’t spent the last six years of my life living in bullied hell every day.

  Slut.

  Freak.

  Murderer.

  Just as I’m about to arrive at the cafeteria, I receive a text message, which is weird. No one ever texts me. Like ever. Well, except for on the rare occurrence when my aunt notifies me of a chore that she wants me to do while she’s out. It’s really the only reason I have a phone. And it’s a really shitty phone. Like, I’m talking one that flips open.

  I dig my phone out of my pocket, and my guard instantly goes up when I see Bitchy Bitch of the West has texted me. Aka, Dixie May.

  Bitchy Bitch of the West: My mom says you have my makeup case. You better give it to me ASAP before I get pissed. And you better not touch any of my makeup. The last thing I want is to get like herpes or something from you.

  I roll my eyes as I type back.

  Me: Yes, I have it. And no, I didn’t touch it. I have no desire to look like Bobo the Clown on my first day of school.

  Bitchy Bitch of the West: Nah, you just prefer to look like a hobo, which, FYI, you’re doing a stellar job at.

  Me: Well, at least I can do a stellar job at something. You can’t even work your clown look.

  Bitchy Bitch of the West: You know what? I was trying to be nice to you, but since you’ve decided to be such a bitch, I think I’m going to let everyone know who you really are. I’ve already obtained the phone numbers of some very popular people in the school, and I think I’m going to send them a link to that article about your parents’ deaths.

  I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches.

  Me: You can, but then I just might dump your makeup case in the trash.

  Bitchy Bitch of the West: Don’t be a freakin’ idiot. There’s like hundreds of dollars’ worth of makeup in that case. And the case is designer!

  Me: Yeah, so? Like you’ve pointed out a ton of times, I don’t really care about that sort of stuff.

  Bitchy Bitch of the West: Raven, I swear to God, if you don’t give me my makeup case, I’m gonna make your life a living hell.

  Like she isn’t already going to do that.

  Me: Fine. Where do you want to meet up so I can give it to you?

  Bitchy Bitch of the West: We can meet up after lunch by the dumpsters out back where no one will see us together.

  I roll my eyes, but type okay and stuff my phone back into my pocket. Then I debate what to do, whether I should go eat in the cafeteria with Katy and her friends or not. It sounds good in theory, but I can’t stop thinking about all the times I got trays of food dumped onto my head by Dixie May’s minions.

  “If I were you, I’d stay away from her,” a voice creeps from the shadows of a nearby alcove. Moments later, a girl steps out from it. She has long, blonde hair, blue eyes, and is sporting torn black jeans, a baggy T-shirt, and knee-high Converse sneakers.

  “Stay away from who?” I ask, completely confused.

  She points up the hallway. “Katy Kiss-ass.”

  “You mean the girl I was talking to a few minutes ago? Why? She seemed nice enough.” Nicer than most people.

  She snorts a laugh. “Trust me; she’s not nice at all. And all that shit she just said about my brother and his friends isn’t true. She just likes to gossip.” She frowns as she mumbles, “Just like almost everyone else in this damn school.”

  “Wait … who’s your brother?” I ask, knowing she means either Jax, Zay, or Hunter, since that’s who Katy was talking about. Before she can answer, though, I note her blonde hair and blue eyes, and it clicks. “Never mind. You have to be Hunter’s sister, right?”

  “So you’ve met my brother?” she asks, stepping closer to me.

  I nod. “Yeah, for a few minutes in the main office this morning. And then I had fourth period with him.” I don’t bother mentioning the crapfest that happened between Hunter, his friends, and me.

  “Oh.” Her eyes light up with recognition, which puzzles the heck out of me. “You’re the new girl.”

  I shift my weight. “Um, yeah. I’m Ravenlee. Or, well, Raven. No one really calls me Ravenlee.”

  She glances over me then chews on her bottom lip, as if she finds something hilarious.

  I start to grow self-conscious and brace myself for some sort of rude remark about to be thrown my way.

  “You know, something my brother said to me this morning is totally making sense now,” she remarks. Then she smiles. “I’m Harlow, by the way. I’m Hunter’s little sister and the school’s official outcast.”

  I arch a brow. “The school has an official outcast, huh? Wow, that’s pretty impressive.”

  “Oh, it totally is,” she quips. “I had to fill out a lot of paperwork to earn the title, along with having to endure a series of torture tests, which included but was not limited to mockery over my looks, who my family is and, most importantly, the fact that I don’t have any friends.”

  “Sounds like you and I have a lot in common,” I joke. “In fact, you might have yourself a little bit of a challenge for keeping your outcast title.”

  She grins. “Perhaps. I don’t know, though … You don’t seem like you have your weirdo image down as well as I do.” She gestures at my outfit.

  I crack a small smile. “Dude, we’re dressed very similar.”

  She taps her bottom lip. “Really? I don’t see it.”

  I grin. So does she. And I realize that I think I might actually have a connection with this girl. Maybe we can even be friends?

  Of course, that moment is completely shattered as some guy wearing a baseball cap strolls by, grinning at Harlow.

  “Hey, Easy, how about coming to lunch with me and giving me a quick blowjob?” he remarks. “I’ll even buy you lunch.”

  Her smile fades and anger burns in her eyes. I feel it, the words he spat at her that probably burn and scar her skin.

  “Fuck off,” we both say at the same time, throwing the douchebag off balance.

  He skids to a halt, glancing between the two of us. For a moment, he looks unsure of what to do. But then a shit-eating grin consumes his face.

  “Who’s your friend?” he asks Harlow while looking at me. “You can bring her, too, and take turns.”

  Her eyes darken as she turns toward him. “Yeah, there’s just one problem with that. In order for either of us to suck you off, we’d have to be able to actually find your tiny penis and, from what I’ve heard, that could take us all of lunchtime, and I need to eat.”

  He glares at her. “Screw you, Easy. You think you’re so damn special because your daddy’s got all this money”—he steps toward her—“but you’re nothing but an easy lay who hides behind her big brother.”

  She curls her fingers into fists. “Maybe I should text my big brother and let him know what’s up? I’m sure he’s with Zay and Jax, too.” She inches toward him. “What do you say? You want me to tattletale on you?”

  His glare deepens. “Always taking the easy way out and living up to your name.” His glare shifts to a smirk as he steps back and saunters off, but not before grinning at me. “I’ll see you around, new girl.”

  Harlow flips him the middle finger as he walks off and rounds the corner.

  “God, I freakin’ hate people at this school,” she mutters. “But Carter is one of the worst. He’s so damn arrogant and his ego is so overinflated.”

  I want to ask her a lot of things, like what his deal is, why he calls her easy. But having been bullied for most of my life, I can pretty much put two and two together.

  Instead, I crack a joke. “He probably has to be that way to overcompensate for his tiny penis.”

  She chuckles softly, turning to me. “Yeah, probably.” She pauses, considering somethin
g, tilting her head to the side. “You want to go to lunch with me? My brother is letting me drive his car. I’m going to this diner that has the best fries ever. We might be a little late getting back, but trust me, it’ll be totally worth it.”

  I hesitate, thinking about how I’m supposed to meet Dixie May behind the dumpsters right after lunch is over.

  Harlow misinterprets my silence, her smile fading. “Or not. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to.”

  “No, it’s not that I don’t want to. I’m just supposed to meet my cousin and give her her makeup case that she left in the car …” I stop myself.

  What am I doing?

  Seriously, what am I doing?

  This is the first time in forever that I have a chance to make a friend, and I’m going to toss it away because I need to give Dixie May her makeup case? Screw that! And I’m already in trouble anyway.

  “You know what? My cousin can wait until after school,” I tell Harlow. “I’d love to go to lunch.”

  Her smile returns. “Awesome.”

  Yeah, definitely awesome.

  Maybe this day won’t turn out as bad as I thought.

  Yeah, talk about jinxing myself.

  Because literally, three seconds after I have the thought, I receive a text.

  Unknown: I know who you are, and I know what you did.

  8

  Raven

  Great. Who did Dixie May tell? is the first thought I have. This text also means she’s given out my phone number.

  This revelation makes me about twenty times more grateful that I’m going to lunch with Harlow, not only so I can avoid people, but because I’m standing up Dixie May and her makeup case.

  Apparently, the message distracts me enough that even Harlow, who barely knows me, can tell something’s wrong.

  “Is everything okay?” she inquires as we push open the doors and step outside into the sunlight.

  I nod and try to force myself to smile. “Yeah, everything’s great.”