NOW THAT I KNOW DREW, I thankfully have a reason to stop sitting with Terrence on the school bus.

Last week, I didn't have too many options. Empty seats were scarce on the bus, and everyone gave me odd looks associated with being the weird new girl. Or, somehow my interactions with the Monarchy got around to them. Considering the rapid-fire spread of gossip that Madison demonstrated for me on the first day, I wouldn't be surprised if that's the care.

"Dinner was great last night," Drew tells me.

"Mom will be happy to hear that." I smile. "She's fixated on you and Sasha coming over more."

I omit the part about her arranging relationships. She's probably just eager for me to form new connections in Carsonville. The seat Drew and I sit in is markedly shabbier than Terrence's seat. It has patches of dried gum trampled into it, and pales when compared to the untouched condition of Terrence's row. Understandably so, considering he commands that seat like his own home.

In the doorway halfway down the bus, a sign is nailed up warning people not to stand there, since doors are liable to open at random times. Yet in the doorway, there are three people standing there. Back here is wilder, and keeps me on edge — which is why I find myself ducking every time something flies through the air. Most times, it's just spit-balls and paper scraps, but I know worse things have been and can be thrown.

Terrence hardly acknowledges me, or lack thereof, this morning. I barely catch a veiled look of hurt, before he reclaims his beloved window seat. Terrence doesn't look back once. I'm hardly affected, as I'm preoccupied trying to teach Drew how to play Rock, Paper, Scissors, Lizard, Spock. It's quite messy, since I forget the order, and Drew keeps telling me, "Machine gun beats them all, anyway."

Ugh, gamers.

Morning classes and lunchtime pass as smoothly as anything to do with high school can happen. With one period left of school, I find myself walking to my last class alone. As we walk, more students stream out of the classes that have just ended, merging seamlessly into one rippling mass of heads.

A shift in the crowd sends students pushing into my sides, as they scramble to make a gap in the middle of the hall. Not everyone is running amok, fear-stricken, but most do have an element of caution in their eyes.

Terrence, Madison, Reece and Derek shuffle along behind the girl who herds them like sheep. She seems like the core of the group. It's the same girl who looked at me in disgust. The same way she is looking at me now.

From her haughty glances at everyone, I almost expect a spotlight and wind machine to come in. If that happened to me, my hair would probably blow straight into my mouth. She's definitely a ten on the glamour scale.

When she approaches me, I raise my chin stubbornly and arch my eyebrow. What now? I just want to go to class. Her brown eyes flicker over me meticulously, like a laser scanner. "You're Sophie, right?"

"Yes." Everyone seems to know that. "And you are?"

"Brittany—"

A loud voice calls through the crowd. 

"Bitch, did you say?" 

A few students yelp as a blur of limbs push them aside, and then Delaney is standing beside me. Her eyes are alight with fury. 

"New girl doesn't need to be shown around, introduced to anyone or given advice. Just fuck off, yeah?"

One part of me is stunned at her rapid-fire expletives, the other is relieved Delaney is beside me. We've taken to sitting together in AP English; every day she impresses me more and more. Plus, Callum finds her hilarious. From one band geek to another, I just his judgment.

Delaney might be abrasive and rude, like the Monarchy, but it's generally about people who I have to agree, have questionable morals. She strikes me as the type to roast people to their faces and sing their praises behind their back. Like a smore; charred and blackened on the outside, and gooey sugar on the inside. And she's never made fun of 'band geeks' or given any weight to the stupid high school social categories. She's never mocked someone's smell or stolen anyone's belongings. 

All things the group in front of me has done. And it's the first week of school!

Brittany's eyes flare for a second. I admire the control she has over her emotions, as she forces all annoyance off her face and lets practised superiority flow back onto her pretty features.

Brittany chuckles. "Why don't you let Sophie decide for herself?"

Something inside me snaps. Of all the troubles I was expecting this year, I didn't plan to get caught up in petty high school politics. And for what? Sitting in the wrong bus seat on the first day? All five of Brittany's crew — the Monarchy — have gone out of their way to single me out, and I'm not going to just take it silently.

"I agree with Delaney. Fuck, I would really just like to go to class in peace. Just once."

Brittany's smile freezes on her face. Over her shoulder, I can vaguely glean the reactions of her four closest friends.

Reece has the same look of shock as when I rejected him; Terrence is casually observing, leaning back to watch a face-off; Madison is filming the encounter with a sneer that makes me cringe. Derek looks mildly interested, though no more than he usually does.

Some very smart people are keeping their heads down, and staying intent on getting to class. Others sense the tension in our encounter, and stay around to sniff out the static possibility of gossip, crackling in the air. Also noticing the change in attitude in the students around us, Brittany throws a few venomous looks into the crowd. I see her sheer power, when — by just her glares alone — more students decide to leave the hall. Enough stay behind to guarantee that any words exchanged will be recorded, distorted, and spread like a virus.

"Listen closely, because I am not going to repeat myself." Her perfect eyebrows lift for a second; a silent warning that I'd better pay attention. Satisfied by the focus on her, Brittany says, "I don't know what rinky-dink town you came from, or how things worked there but here, it's considered rude to turn down an offer of help. It's also rude to swear. That immature behaviour is a good way to make enemies... or get yourself hurt... Understand?"

She's calculated everything. Brittany knows how much poison she has to leech into her voice, how many students she has to scare — even the words she has to say — to keep everyone enclosed under her hand, but not have to waste too much of her time.

Very good thing that I can calculate, too. I can calculate that if her little gang clears out in two minutes, I can get to my class without being late.

"Brittany..." I sigh tiredly. "If you're threatening me, you'd better take a number. I've got to see about five people who are going to peak in high school before I get to you."

"Shit, that's a good one," Delaney mutters under her breath. "I'm going to use that."

"Be my guest," I grin at her, not bothering to include the Monarchy in our conversation. 

In fact, it's this easy camaraderie and banter we've kept up, showing that we aren't threatened at all, that annoys Brittany most. She can't get under our skin.

"Get out of our way," she threatens.

The command is not only asking us to vacate the hall, it is Brittany trying to crush any competition she has. It is nipping a problem at the bud, before it can flourish and overtake her.

"N-no," someone else calls. Leah. She snuck up behind us and joined me on my other side, staring defiantly at the Monarchy. "You're horrible, Brittany."

Brittany smirks and clicks her fingers. "I warned you. That behaviour will only get you hurt."

Derek and Reece walk up to us, their shoes shuffling loudly on the linoleum floors. Or maybe that's just my nerves amplifying every sense. Hands clenched into fists, the white on their knuckles is a stark comparison to their usually tanned skin.

"Seriously?" I baulk. "You're going to fight us? Reece? Derek?"

"Won't be much of a fight," Derek grits out.

"What? We just want to go to class."

Brittany smiles. "You will. After a trip to the nurse's office." And then the boys advance.

There's no remorse or conflict in their eyes. Terrence, only a step away, looks torn between helping me and obeying Brittany but in the end, he stays dutifully by her side. He's made his choice. They all have.

Delaney swears under her breath, looking not exactly scared, but resigned to fate. I see her feet shift forward, into an attacking stance, and her arms come up to guard her torso. I suppose if we have to get beaten up, then we'll make it hard for our attackers. I glance to my left, consoling Leah's fear. She draws taller, putting away her fright, and takes a stance similar to Delaney's.

All shifty-eyed, watching the two boys draw up to us on either side, actually braving the imminent injuries following. 

Alright. This would be the moment to freeze-frame and narrate, you're probably wondering how I got into this situation. Because at some point, I must have miscalculated; there's no fucking way I've gotten myself into an all-out brawl, involving multiple people, on the first week of school. I can't even throw a punch!

"You seriously going to do this?" I ask Brittany, searching for a way out.

She ponders, tauntingly, then chuckles. "This is a life lesson, Sophie. Be grateful you're being taught it now, rather than later."

The guilt crashes down on me, watching Delaney and Leah. I should have held my tongue. Or moved bus seats. Or added Madison on social media. Or sat with them in the cafeteria. Never mind the right thing, I should have paid due care to Leah and Delaney's safety.

Then I realise exactly what Benjamin was talking about when he said they'd take every chance they could get to make their own lives easier. Everyone would bend before they broke. Even me.

I barely have a second to fathom a disgusted grimace, before a flash of movement from the side captures our focus. But it only gives a pause in the devious approaches of Derek and Reece.

Benjamin and Drew frantically step — more like push — out from the crowd. The panic they wear makes me think they've missed the whole event leading up to the point where the violence breaks out. Instead of being glad they're here to intervene — Delaney actually stands a more powerful force to be reckoned with than the boys' petrified stares — I just feel even shittier for dragging more people into this.

I hear a few gasps. I see a few people pointing, in my periphery, to the new players in this fixed game. More people are following Madison's example now, filming the event on whatever device they can lay hands on. Glancing around at the crowd, I realise no-one is offering a way out. They encircle us, forcing the ten of us into close quarters without any refuge. Benjamin's explanation of social proximity, the high school hierarchy, flashes in my mind. The Monarchy's henchmen?

Benjamin and Drew stop in front of us, all jumpy and nervous, acting as shields from whatever Reece and Derek are planning to do. It doesn't take a physicist to guess what.

I pull on Drew's t-shirt, but he doesn't budge. I whisper-yell, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Helping."

"You're going to get beat up if you help."

"And if we don't, you are," he says, with finality. His eyes soften, "This is something I've wanted to do for a long time. Don't blame yourself for anything."

All four boys stare each other down. Briefly, when Benjamin turns around to throw his jacket down behind him, I can see the hatred flaming in his eyes. "Yeah." He agrees with Drew. "They've had this coming for years."

I realise this isn't just a coincidence. Drew and Benjamin have something burning behind their eyes, an unresolved matter with the Monarchy at the heart of it. Bad blood runs between these people. And I hope no-one gets it on their hands. The tension in the air is almost a solid presence, weighing down all of our shoulders.

Reece throws the first punch, aiming straight for Drew.

Benjamin intercepts it — dashing so fast it is almost astounding, from Drew's right to the other side of the hall. He takes the punch on his ribcage, and recovers quickly.

Benjamin swears, "You fucker," just before grabbing Reece's shoulders and slamming him into the lockers. The students barely scatter out of the way in time.

I won't be surprised if there is a dent left there, with the crashing sound that it made. Reece is probably the tallest kid in school, but Benjamin isn't far off. Reece has the advantage however, all that muscle waiting to be used under his Letterman jacket. Just as capable of harming as gossip or pranks or threats.

Meanwhile, Drew takes a defensive strategy. Derek also outmatches him but Drew dodges away whenever Derek comes close to hitting him. He'll fake left, and kick Derek on the right, then fake right and kick him on the left. But quickly enough, Derek figures the pattern out and gets in several solid and well-aimed punches on Drew's jaw.

The teenagers encompassing us are surging forward. They all kept well away under Brittany's glare. Now that the threat of being the victims is gone, they all seem to be clamouring forward without fear. For what, I have no idea. Maybe to get a better view of the live entertainment? Since that's all we seem to be to them.

My arms are packed to my sides and I struggle to push my way to Drew, who looks on the verge of passing out. His face is a pale sienna, compared to the usual colour in his cheeks, a tone that makes him look skeletal, marked with occasional slivers of red, open wounds.

Oh, fucking hell, move will you!

As I am stepped on, poked, shoved and jostled, I finally emerge close enough to Drew to be able to touch him. Not wanting to get sucked back into the vacuum that is the spectators, I hurriedly make my way over to him. Derek's back is facing me, and it's too easy to hook my foot around his ankle and pull it back, sending him falling to the floor.

Derek manages to turn halfway. The worst of the fall is taken into his shoulder. Looking behind him to see his new opponent, Derek seems shocked that I would intervene so suddenly, since the fight is pretty heated. Having Jake and Jamie as older cousins taught me some handy tricks when it comes to self-defence. But my main concern is for Drew, otherwise, I would have handed Derek's ass to him fried and filleted.

Derek stays on the ground — wise choice — tending to his raw shoulder with winces. Jumping over his body, I rush to Drew. He sways dangerously on one leg, almost collapsing under the force of the blows. I shove past Madison as well, who looks like she wants to yell at me for ruining her steady camera hand, but later decides I'm not worth it. It's not until I have one of Drew's arms, previously dangling numbly, held around my shoulders that I breathe a quick sigh of relief.

Good thing he's taller than me or this would be such an awkward struggle. Benjamin and Reece are wrestling against the lockers, sending the students in their area either sprawling to get away, or coming closer to see better. For three seconds, Delaney manages to get Reece off Benjamin. Just as rapidly, Reece throws her hands off his shoulders, and flies at his rival again, ignoring the many punches and cusses sent his way.

Leah can't do much but stand, shocked, and occasionally try to step in front of Benjamin to defend.

The worry leaves a bitter, metallic taste on my tongue as I watch their separate battle. A movement in front of me draws me back to the boy slung over me, and the person who did this to him. Derek has stood up to continue his spar with Drew. Is he fucking serious?

I manoeuvre us so that I am facing him.

"Don't you have anything better to do than be Brittany's lapdog?"

Derek's expression remains blank, but he backs away. Brittany comes into my line of sight. Oh, now she decides to appear. I bet the whole time she was just sitting on her high horse, watching — from a safe vantage point — my friends get bloodied and bruised. 

I've never hated anyone in my life. Bishop is not that sort of town. But Carsonville seems to be, and right now, I'm feeling something very hateful towards Brittany for what she did to my friends.

As she grins sadistically, Derek moves past her, careful to shove her shoulder not-so-subtly. Everyone's throwing hostility around in the air, I can see it on every face that I look at. As Derek walks away, he spits a chunk of his spit onto the passing locker. I pity the poor person whose locker coincidentally had to be assigned there.

I walk slowly with Drew, trying to guide him down the hall to the nurse's office. Benjamin and Reece are still grappling near the lockers — Delaney and Leah trying in vain to separate them — when Principal Fisher's voice rings out.