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Ramses lifted his head of dark curls. “I used to play basketball.”
“Used to play?” Birdie asked, hands on her hips. “What the hell happened? You burned up the court when you were here.”
My lips parted. Ramses a jock? I never would have thought that with the exception of our final hours together. His friends had looked like jocks, and he fit right in with them. Then there was his height and everything, so I guess that made sense.
Ramses shook his head. “Decided to focus on my brain. Dad’s cut me off, remember? Have to pay for college myself.”
“Ah, that’s r
ight.” Birdie frowned. “Resident bad boy got himself shipped off to desert country. How was that over there with the tumbleweeds BTW?”
“Way better than here.” Ramses frowned now, but didn’t let it linger. The warning bell for our next class started, and Birdie came out from under his arm.
She bumped his fist. “Talk to me about it all at lunch. And the other girls too. You always got a seat at our table.”
He tipped a chin at her, giving her one last bump before she started down the opposite end of the hallway. My class, on the other hand, went the other way, and after saying goodbye to Birdie too, I started to tell Ramses I needed some answers as well. Like why Birdie had called him a “bad boy” when he’d been king of the uber nerds when I knew him. Also him getting cut off? What the hell? And why was he here? The questions traveled my brain in influx, but all that ceased when the pair of us suddenly weren’t alone.
Royal and crew came outside Mr. Pool’s class. They’d stayed in there for some reason, way last to leave, and upon surfacing from the room, they found Ramses and me. Green eyes, Royal’s, connected with me for only moments before passing to Ramses.
“Prinze,” Ramses said to him, his hands sliding into his uniform pockets. Royal, on the other hand, didn’t acknowledge him at all. He merely looked at me, frowning before going the opposite way with the other boys. Jax, Knight, and LJ gave Ramses a little eyeing themselves, and I remembered what Ramses told me about what sent him running from this place. He said he had a run-in with a clique.
That apparent clique ventured down the hallway, bags on their arms and big backs, and shaking his head, Ramses looked at me.
“What are your plans next hour?” he asked me, cutting off my sight from Royal when he stood in front of me. “Feel like taking a walk?”
Twenty-Two
Royal - Age 17
A locker slammed in my face, and since I knew why, I looked the other way. I decided to lace up my lacrosse cleats instead, busying myself with the task.
That only pissed Paige off more.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?” she gritted, getting in my face when I was the last person she should have been mad at. She propped hands on her hips. “Royal?”
Some of our teammates bumped a fist on my shoulder, passing us both with grins on their face and lacrosse sticks in their hands. We had practice today, a practice to get ready for.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” I asked, noticing my teammate was still in her street clothes. She was allowed in the guys’ locker room, the only girl ever in recorded history. She’d broken a lot of barriers, my best friend, and I’d been there along the way to help her do it. I continued to do that, be there for her.
She shook her head. “You were so out of line.”
“Actually, I think I was completely in line,” I told her. My cleats laced, I grabbed my lacrosse stick off the bench. “I got a monster off the streets and off our field.”
Coach Marshall had been nothing but a sick bastard, the epitome of the scum of the earth, and she was in my face talking about him.
“What if people find out,” she started, but stopped when more guys came through. LJ and Jax stopped, Knight behind them.
“Everything okay?” LJ asked, ready for this confrontation with me. I recruited all the guys in the end to help, power in numbers. I needed the truth, needed facts to help support what I needed to do. LJ, Jax, and Knight helped me find those facts, and even though they hadn’t been affected, we had friends who were. We had Paige, the most important thing. Someone hurting her was a slam against all of us as far as the group and I were concerned. We were family, there for each other.
Paige’s eyes widened at the acknowledgment. I was sure she didn’t love more of her business being out there, but I personally didn’t care.
“Everything’s cool,” I told them, letting them go, and Paige covered her arms.
“What’s happened to you?” she asked. “Getting them in on this? Getting in my business—”
“He touched you,” I said, a finger in her face. I snorted. “He put hands on you, and I stopped that, stopped him from doing that to anyone else.” It took me a while, well over a year, but I figured out exactly who in our Court family had come after her as a kid…
And why hadn’t I seen it sooner? More than one guy on the team had reported looks, stares from our former head coach while they’d been in the shower or doing whatever. It only took a few guys, only a few coming forward when asked around, and I put together the pieces. The guy was a sick fuck, and I finally found him. He’d been one of our few alumni that showed up to everything, always talking to all the kids and even cornered me a time or two.
