Chapter 2: Corrupt: Chapter 2

Three Years Ago

“NOAH?” I FELL BACK, leaning against the wall next to my best friend’s locker as he retrieved a book between classes. “Do you have a date for Winterfest?”

He scrunched up his face. “That’s like two months away, Rika.”

“I know. I’m getting in while the getting’s good.”

He smiled, slamming his locker shut and leading the way down the hall. “So you’re asking me on a date then?” he teased in his cocky voice. “I knew you always wanted me.”

I rolled my eyes, following him, since my classroom was in the same direction. “Could you make this easier, please?”

But all I heard was his snort.

Winterfest was a dance like Sadie Hawkins. Girls ask guys, and I wanted to take the safe route by asking a friend.

Students scurried around us, rushing to their classes, and I held the strap of my bag on my shoulder as I grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Please?” I pleaded.

But he narrowed his eyes, looking worried. “Are you sure Trevor’s not going to kick my ass? Judging from the way he’s on you all the time, I’m surprised he hasn’t GPS’d you.”

That was a good point. Trevor would be mad I wasn’t asking him, but I only wanted friendship, and he wanted more. I didn’t want to lead him on.

I guessed I could chalk up my disinterest in Trevor to knowing him my entire life—he was too familiar, kind of like family—but I’d also known his older brother my entire life, and my feelings for him weren’t at all familial.

“Come on. Be a buddy,” I urged, nudging his shoulder. “I need you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He stopped at my next class, which was on the way to his, and spun around, pinning me with a hard look. “Rika, if you don’t want to ask Trevor, then ask someone else.”

I let out a sigh and averted my eyes, sick of this conversation.

“You’re asking me, because it’s safe,” he argued. “You’re beautiful, and any guy would be thrilled to go out with you.”

“Of course they would be.” I smiled sarcastically. “So say yes then.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at me.

Noah liked to draw conclusions about me. About why I never dated or why he thought I shied away from this or that, and as good of a friend as he was, I wished he’d stop already. I just didn’t feel comfortable.

I reached up, rubbing a nervous hand over my neck—over the pale, thin scar I got when I was thirteen.

In the car accident that killed my father.

I saw him watching me, and I dropped my hand, knowing what he was thinking.

The scar ran diagonally, about two inches long, on the left side of my neck, and although it had faded with time, I still felt like it was the first thing people noticed about me. There were always questions and pitiful expressions from family and friends, not to mention the jerk comments I got in junior high from girls laughing at me. After a while, it started to feel like an appendage, big and something I was always aware of.

“Rika,” he lowered his voice, his brown eyes gentle, “baby, you’re beautiful. Long blonde hair, legs that no guy in this school can ignore, and the prettiest blue eyes in town. You’re gorgeous.”

The one minute bell rang, and I shifted in my flats, gripping the strap of my bag tighter.

“And you’re my favorite person,” I retorted. “I want to go with you. Okay?”

He sighed, a defeated look crossing his face. I’d won, and I fought not to smile.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “It’s a date.” And then he spun around, heading for English 3.

I grinned, my nerves immediately relaxing. I was no doubt taking Noah away from a promising night with another girl, so I’d have to do something to make it up to him.

Walking into Pre-Calculus, I hooked my bag on the back of my chair in the front row and pulled out my book, setting it on the desk. My friend Claudia planted herself in the seat next to me, meeting my eyes and smiling, and I immediately sat down and started writing my name on the blank piece of paper that Mr. Fitzpatrick had set down on everyone’s desk. Friday classes always started with a pop quiz, so we knew the drill.

Students hurried into the room, the girls’ green and blue plaid skirts swaying, and most of the boys’ ties already loosened. It was nearly the end of the day.

“Did you hear the news?” someone said behind us, and I jerked my head around to see Gabrielle Owens leaning over her desktop.

“What news?” Claudia asked.

She lowered her voice to a whisper, excitement crossing her face. “They’re here,” she told us.

I glanced at Claudia and then back at Gabrielle, confused. “Who’s here?”

But then Mr. Fitzpatrick came in, booming in his large voice, “Take a seat everyone!”, and Claudia, Gabrielle, and I immediately faced the front of the room and straightened, ending our conversation.

“Please sit down, Mr. Dawson,” the teacher instructed to a student in the back as he came to stand behind his desk.

They’re here? I leaned back in my chair, trying to figure out what she meant. But then I looked up, spotting a girl jogging to the front of the room and handing Mr. Fitzpatrick a note.

“Thank you,” he responded, opening it up.

I watched him read it and saw his expression turn from relaxed to agitated, his lips pressing together and his eyebrows narrowing.

What was going on?

They’re here. What did that…?

But then my eyes widened and flutters hit my stomach.

THEY’RE HERE. I opened my mouth, sucking in a quick breath, fire and fever making my skin tingle. Butterflies filled my stomach, and I clenched my teeth, holding back the smile that wanted loose.

He’s here.

I raised my eyes slowly, looking at the clock and seeing that it was nearly two in the afternoon.

And it was October thirtieth, the night before Halloween.

Devil’s Night.

They were back. But why? They’d already graduated—more than a year ago, so why now?

“Please make sure you have your name on your paper,” Mr. Fitzpatrick instructed, an edge to his voice, “and solve the three problems on the board.” He switched on the projector, not wasting any time as the problems flashed on the Smartboard ahead of us.

“Turn it face down when you’re finished,” he called out. “You have ten minutes.”

I gripped the pencil, my entire body buzzing with nerves and anticipation as I tried to concentrate on the first problem dealing with quadratic functions.

But it was fucking hard. I glanced at the clock again. Any minute…

I bowed my head and forced myself to focus, my pencil digging into the wooden desk underneath as I blinked my eyes, bringing them into focus on my task. “Find the vertex of the parabola,” I whispered to myself.

I quickly worked through the problem, moving from one thing to the other, knowing that if I stopped for a second, I’d be distracted.

If the vertex of the parabola has coordinates…I kept going.

The graph of a quadratic function is a parabola, which opens up if…

And I kept working, finishing one, two, and moving through number three.

But then I heard soft music, and I instantly froze.

My pencil hovered over my work as the sound of a faint guitar riff drifted through the loudspeakers. It got louder and louder, and I stared at my paper, heat stirring inside my chest.

Whispers sounded around the room, followed by a few excited giggles, and then the soft beginning of the song over the speakers gave way to a violent onslaught of drums, guitars, and a fast, sharp, heart-pounding mania. I tightened my fingers around my pencil.

Slipknot’s The Devil In I blared through the classroom—and, I assumed, the rest of the school, as well.

“I told you!” Gabrielle burst out.

I popped my head up, watching as students raced out of their seats for the door.

“Are they really here?” someone damn-near squealed.

Everyone crowded around the classroom door, peering out the small window at the top, trying to catch a glimpse of them coming down the hallway. But I stayed in my seat, adrenaline rippling through my body.

Mr. Fitzpatrick’s chest heaved with a sigh as he folded his arms over his chest and turned away, no doubt waiting for it to be over.

The music pounded, and the thrilled chatter from the other students filled the room.

“Where—oh, there they are!” a girl shouted, and I heard pounding coming from the hallway, sounding like fists beating on lockers, getting closer and closer.

“Let me see!” another student argued, pushing others aside.

A girl popped up on her tiptoes. “Move!” she ordered someone else.

But then everyone suddenly backed up. The doors swung open, and the students fanned out like a ripple in a lake.

“Oh, shit,” I heard a boy whisper.

Slowly, everyone spread out, some falling back into their seats while others remained standing. I gripped my pencil with both hands, my stomach flipping like a roller coaster as I watched them slowly step into the classroom, eerily calm and in no hurry.

They were here. The Four Horsemen.

They were Thunder Bay’s favorite sons, and they’d gone to high school here, graduating when I was a freshman. All four went on to separate universities afterward. They were a few years older, and while not one of them knew I existed, I knew almost everything about them. All four of them stalked slowly into the room, filling the space to where the sun’s rays turned black across the floor.

Damon Torrance, Kai Mori, Will Grayson III, and—I locked my gaze on the blood red mask covering the face of the one always in the lead a little more than the others—Michael Crist, Trevor’s older brother.

He twisted his head left and jerked his chin toward the back of the room. Students turned, watching one of the male students step forward, a smile pulling at his jaw even though he tried to hold it back.

“Kian,” a guy’s humor-filled voice called out, slapping him on the back as he walked past him on his way to the Horsemen. “Have fun. Wear a condom.”

Some students laughed, while a few girls fidgeted nervously, whispering and smiling to each other.

Kian Mathers, a junior like me and one of our school’s best basketball players, stepped up to the guys, the one in the white mask with the red stripe hooking him around the neck and pulling him out the door.

They grabbed another student, Malik Cramer, and the one in the full black mask pulled him out into the hallway, following the other two and probably off to collect more players from other classrooms.

I watched Michael, the way his size had nothing to do with how he filled a room, and I blinked long and hard, feeling the heat flow under my skin.

Everything about the Horsemen made me feel like I was walking a high wire. Cast your balance a hair in the wrong direction or tread too hard—or too softly—and you’d plummet so far off their radar, you’d never reappear.

Their power came from two things: they had followers and they didn’t care. Everyone idolized them, including me.

But as opposed to the other students who had looked up to them, followed them, or fantasized about them, I simply wondered what it would be like to be them. They were untouchable, fascinating, and nothing they ever did was wrong. I wanted that.

I wanted to look down at the sky.

“Mr. Fitzpatrick?” Gabrielle Owens sauntered up, followed by her friend, both of them carrying their books. “We have to go to the nurse. See you Monday!” And then they squeezed between the horsemen, disappearing out the door

I shot my eyes over to the teacher, wondering why he was just letting them leave. They were clearly not going to the nurse. They were leaving with the guys.

But no one—not even Mr. Fitzpatrick—tried challenging them.

The Four Horsemen, not only ruled the student body and the town when they attended school here, but they commanded the court and hardly ever lost in the four years they played.

Since their departure, though, the team had suffered and last year was a humiliating disaster for Thunder Bay. Twelve losses out of twenty games, and everyone had had enough. Something was missing.

I assumed that’s why the horsemen were here now, called back from college for the weekend to inspire the team or do whatever they had to do to pump them up and get them on track before the season started.

And as much as teachers like Fitzpatrick frowned on their hazing, it had certainly helped make the team a unit in their time here. Why not see if it would work again?

“Everyone sit down! You boys move on,” he told the horsemen.

Dropping my head, elation filled my body as my stomach floated up to my chest. I let my eyes fall closed, my head feeling light and high.

Yeah, this is what had been missing.

Opening my eyes again, I saw a pair of long legs in dark washed jeans walk past my desk, next to the window, and stop.

I kept my eyes down, afraid my face would give away what was happening in my chest. He was probably just scanning the room anyway, seeing if we had any other players in here.

“Anyone else?” one of the other guys asked.

But he didn’t answer his friend. He just kept standing over me. What was he doing?

Keeping my chin down, I tipped my eyes up, seeing his fingers, slightly curled, at his sides. I made out the vein over the top of his strong hand, and the whole room seemed to suddenly grow so quiet that dread filled my stomach and my breathing stopped.

What was he doing just standing there?

I slowly raised my eyes and instantly tensed, seeing golden hazel ones staring straight down at me.

I shifted my gaze side to side, wondering if I’d missed something. Why was he looking at me?

Michael looked down, his vicious red mask—a replica of the deformed and scarred Army of Two masks from the video game—making my knees weak.

I’d always been scared of him. The thrilling kind of scared that got me turned on.

I tightened the muscles in my thighs, feeling the throb between my legs, in the space that only felt empty when he was close but not close enough.

I liked it. I liked being scared.

Everyone sat silently behind me, and I watched him cock his head just a little as he regarded me. What was he thinking?

“She’s only sixteen,” Mr. Fitzpatrick spoke up.

Michael held my eyes for another second and then turned his head, looking at Mr. Fitzpatrick.

I was only sixteen—until next month, anyway—which meant they couldn’t take me with them. The basketball players’ ages didn’t matter, but any girls that joined them had to be eighteen, leaving school grounds of their own free will.

Not that they were going to take me anyway. Mr. Fitzpatrick was mistaken.

The teacher glared, and even though I couldn’t see Michael’s eyes, turned away from me as he was, I deduced that it unnerved Mr. Fitzpatrick, because his stare faltered. He dropped his eyes, blinking and backing down.

Michael turned his head back, looking at me once more as a drop of sweat glided down my back.

And then he walked out of the room, followed by Kai, who I knew wore the silver mask, the door swinging closed behind them.

What the hell was that about?

Whispers broke out across the room, and I could see Claudia’s head turned toward me out of the corner of my eye. I glanced at her, seeing her eyebrows raised in question, but I just ignored her, turning back to my paper. I had no idea why he was looking at me. I hadn’t seen him since he’d been home from college briefly in the summertime, and he’d ignored me then, as usual.

“Alright, everyone!” Mr. Fitzpatrick barked. “Back to work. Now!”

The excited chatter lowered back to whispering, and everyone slowly got back to work. The music, which had faded into a distant hum, cut off, and for the first time since I entered the room, I let go of the smile I’d been holding back.

Tonight would be chaos. Devil’s Night wasn’t just hazing. It was special. Not only would they grab players from all of the rooms, take them to an undisclosed location, rough them up a bit, and get them drunk, but later…the horsemen would wreak havoc and turn the whole town into their playground.

Last year, with them gone, it had been boring, but everyone knew that it was on tonight. Starting right now in the parking lot as all the guys and a few girls loaded up in the cars, no doubt.

I picked up my pencil, my breathing turning shallow as I bobbed my right knee up and down.

I wanted to go.

The heat in my chest was already starting to dissipate, and my head, which had just felt like it was higher than the trees a minute ago, was slowly descending and returning to the ground.

In another minute I’d feel the same way I had before he walked in the room: base, cold, and trivial.

After class, I’d go home, check on my mom, change clothes, and then head over to the Crist’s to hang out, a routine that started shortly after my father had passed away. Sometimes I’d stay for dinner, and sometimes I’d go back home to eat with my mom if she was up for it.

Then I’d go to bed, trying not to worry about how one brother tried to wear me down more every day while denying what woke up inside of me whenever the other one was close.

Laughter and howls drifted in from outside the windows, and I faltered, stopping my knee from bobbing.

Fuck it.

I reached under my desk, grabbing my Pre-Calc textbook, and leaned over, handing it to Claudia with my bag and whispering, “Take this home with you. I’ll pick it up this weekend.”

Her eyebrows pinched together, looking confused. “Wha—”

But I didn’t let her finish, already slipping out of my desk and walking toward the teacher.

“Mr. Fitzpatrick?” I approached his desk, my hands clasped behind my back. “May I use the restroom, please? I finished the assignment,” I lied in a quiet voice.

He barely looked up, nodding and waving me off. Yeah, I was that kind of student. Oh, Erika Fane? The demure one who’s always in dress code and volunteers to work concession at the athletic events for free? Good kid.

I headed straight for the door, not even hesitating as I left the room.

By the time he realized I wasn’t coming back, I’d be gone. I may still get in trouble, but it would already be too late to stop me. Deed done. Suffer the consequences on Monday.

Racing out of the school, I spotted a group of cars, trucks, and SUVs way off to the left, trailing around the corner of the building. I wasn’t planning on asking them if I could come or letting anyone know I was there. I’d either get laughed at or patted on the head and sent back to class.

Nope. I wouldn’t even be seen.

Jogging toward the group of cars, I spotted Michael’s black Mercedes G-Class and dived behind it, hiding as I peered around the corner.

“Get ‘em in the cars!” someone shouted.

I spotted Damon Torrance right away. He had his black mask sitting on top of his head as he walked through the cluster of cars and tossed a beer to a guy in the bed of a pickup truck. His black hair was pushed back, hidden under the mask, and I noticed his high cheekbones and still-striking black eyes. Damon was good-looking.

But I didn’t like anything else about him. Since I was a freshman when they were all seniors, I didn’t have much first-hand knowledge of their demeanors at school, but I’d seen plenty of him at the Crist house to know that something was wrong with him. Michael gave him a long leash, but it was still a leash and for a good reason. He scared me.

And not in the way Michael did that I liked.

There were about twenty-five people so far, counting the basketball team and some girls, but school would be out in less than an hour, which meant car loads more would be searching them out to join the party.

“Where are we going?” one of the guys asked, looking at Damon.

But it was Will Grayson who stepped up, slapping Damon on the shoulder as he passed. “Where no one can hear you scream,” he answered.

Smirking, he opened the door to his black Ford Raptor, climbing up and standing between the open door and the truck, looking over the hood.

Will held his white mask with a red stripe in his hand, his brown hair styled in a faux hawk and his seductive green eyes laughing. “Hey, did you see Kylie Halpern?” he asked, looking over Damon’s head to someone else.

I peered around the car, seeing Kai with his silver mask on top of his head, and Michael, his face still hidden behind his.

“Holy shit, those legs!” Will went on. “A year did her a lot of good.”

“Yeah, I’m missing high school girls,” Damon said, opening the passenger door to the Raptor. “They don’t give any lip.”

I watched Michael, less than five feet away, open the rear driver’s side door of his G-class and toss a duffle bag in, slamming the door closed when he was done.

I tightened my fists, my arms suddenly feeling weak. What the hell was I doing? I shouldn’t be doing this. I’d either get in trouble or embarrassed.

“Michael?” I heard Will’s voice call. “It’ll be a long night. Did you see anyone you liked?”

“Maybe,” I heard him respond in a deep voice.

And then I heard another voice laugh softly. I thought it was Kai. “Dude, I dare you,” he challenged like he knew something. “She’s beautiful, but I’d wait until she’s legal.”

“I’ll try,” I heard Michael say. “A year did her a lot of good, too. She’s getting harder not to notice.”

“Who are you guys talking about?” Damon cut in.

“No one,” Michael snapped, sounding suddenly short.

I shook my head, brushing off their words. I needed to get out of sight before anyone saw me.

“Get everyone in the cars,” Michael ordered.

My chest rose and fell faster, and I sucked in a deep breath and squeezed the handle on the truck, hearing it click open as I pulled on it.

With a quick glance to the guys again and my ears on alert, I opened the door and quickly dived inside, pulling the door closed and hoping they didn’t notice in the madness of everyone loading into other cars.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

Sure, I’d paid attention to them over the years. Absorbed their conversations and mannerisms, noticing things that other didn’t, but I’d never followed them.

Was this stage one or stage two of stalking? Oh, Jesus. I rolled my eyes, not even wanting to think about it.

“Let’s go!” Kai shouted, and car doors started slamming shut.

“See you there!” I heard Will call out.

The car under me shook, and I widened my eyes as people climbed into Michael’s car.

And then, one by one, all four doors slammed shut, the silent cabin now filled with the laughter and banter of several male voices.

The SUV roared to life, vibrating under me, and I rolled onto my back, letting my head rest on the floor, not sure if I should feel good that I hadn’t gotten caught or sick that I had no idea what I’d gotten myself into.