Armani’s POV

  The gunshot leaves me on the tough, muddy ground. "Help me!" I scream, but the soccer field is empty. Just me and the stinging pain through my right thigh. Blood. My blood is everywhere. My hands, my shorts, and it’s seeping into the grass underneath. I got shot, right here, in the so-called safest school in the country, in broad-ass daylight.

  In a matter of seconds, the ground starts shaking—my friends are sprinting towards me from every direction.

  I can't help but groan whenever I try to move.

  But... wait, why are they here? How did they know I'd get shot on the soccer field?

  Earlier that morning, I walked into the cafeteria to meet my friends. Hunter (yes, the Hunter) had recently cut my hair. Still can't believe I got him to do it. He'd shortened my hair; now it almost reaches my jaws, a little frizzy, kinda wavy, but way cooler than before. And yeah, I couldn’t forget the aquamarine studs my boyfriend Pierre—or now my ex-boyfriend (thanks, Bryan, for forcing me to ghost the handsome French boy)—had bought me for my fifteenth birthday. He said their blue matched my eyes. I popped open the top three buttons of my white shirt to show off my new heart-shaped choker. Edgy as fuck, I know. Rolled up the sleeves on my black coat and shirt to crank it up even more. Wrapped bandages over the snake tattoo on my right hand, then slid on my favorite leather skull bracelet on the left one. Took me forever to get myself styled, but hey, it was all for the ladies.

  Uniform rules here are shit. Boys wear black coats, white shirts, dads’ black pants. Girls get the same up top, but with those tight, kinda hot, knee-length skirts and leggings underneath. Everyone wears ugly classic black shoes, no exceptions. What happened to the mini dresses and grey sweatpants I see in high school movies? Of course, every job I do for Bryan has to be as lame as him. Anyway, I said fuck those rules and made myself look cool as hell.

  The moment I stepped closer to my gang's table (I missed those idiots, hadn't seen them for over a week) with my tray, I didn't get the cheers and applause I was expecting, but got silent gasps and stares.

  "What do you think of my new fit?" I asked.

  "Faggot," the familiar-looking, masked girl at the table spat out. "You look like a faggot."

  I sat down on the chair next to hers, staring into her big blue eyes. It took me a second to realize that she wasn't some new girl, but Zoey, rocking a long black wig with bangs covering her eyebrows. She still looked edgy, challenging my own edginess.

  "Oh! Morning, kitten. Guess what?" I stabbed my strawberry milk carton with a straw, took a sip. Amazing and refreshing. Then, I turned to her with a grin. "You're right. I am a faggot."

  She rolled her eyes and looked down at her plate. I bet that girl, deep down, despite all the slurs and that bitchy attitude, actually likes me. She has to. I mean, who doesn't?

  "Bro, you look gay as fuck," Jaiden said, eyeing me up and down. He's just a jealous monkey.

  Annie came up from behind and hugged me tight. "Don't call him that." She pulled my head to her warm, flat chest. "You look cool, babe."

  I got a little excited and let my head sink in a bit, but my head found nothing but an annoyingly tough bra that pushed back when I tried to sink in more. What a turn off!

  "I hate to break it to you," Laura said, hugging the warm cup of coffee she had gotten for free with her meal as if she was holding a newborn. "But the dress code here is strict, and you'd get in trouble for... whatever you're wearing." She looked at Annie. "And you, sit down. There's literally a sign outside saying dating is not allowed."

  Annie protested, hugging my head tighter and missing with my hair. "No! You're mad ‘cause you're still single!"

  Laura looked at Zoey, who was sipping tea through a metal straw she had pulled from her pocket, and forced an annoyed smile. "Look at this bitch. See how she always gets me in trouble?" Zoey gave her a nod of approval, or understanding, or maybe she just wanted her to shut up.

  I untangled Annie’s arms from my head and told her to get back to her seat because I noticed everyone’s eyes were on us. The baddies may think I'm taken, and I didn't want that.

  "Won't you tell us about whatever Bryan has planned with you?" Zoey asked, glancing at me.

  Laura groaned, "Come on, fuck Bryan! It's our first day here."

  "Yeah, let's do that later," Annie nodded.

  Everyone dove into their meals and the table got quiet for more than necessary, so I figured I'd bust the silence. I pulled out the letter I found slid under my door earlier and opened it up. "Look what I found this morning."

  The four of them leaned in close to get a good look. Laura squinted her eyes, reading aloud: "Let’s meet at 1 PM after lunch in the soccer field. I have something to tell you. Don’t bring anyone else because I’m shy. And a red heart."

  Annie gasped.

  I bragged, puffing out my chest a bit. "Haven’t even been here a couple of days and I’m already pulling love letters!"

  But Jaiden didn't miss the chance to ruin the moment. "Dude, did you write that for yourself?" He laughed, turning to the girls. "He always writes himself love letters."

  Of course, the girls laughed, and I looked like a fucking weirdo.

  "I don't do that, and I didn't write this one!" I glared at that asshole. "This isn't even my handwriting, are you blind?"

  "So, you sure you didn't write this one for yourself?" Laura tried to sound serious but totally failed.

  I didn't have to answer that.

  She looked at Annie. "What about you, Annie? Were you the one who wrote him that letter?"

  "It can't be Annie because there's a sign that says girls can't enter boys' dorms." I said.

  "Then, who did it?" Laura asked.

  None of them dared to look at Zoey, so all eyes snapped to Jaiden. "Ew!" His face twisted. "I would never write a love letter to a dude!"

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  "How are we supposed to know who wrote it?" Annie asked with a sad pout. I love how she looks when she's jealous. She thought for a while, then she leaned against Jaiden and whispered something that made him grin. Then leaned the other way, whispered something to Laura, who chuckled, and Laura passed it to Zoey, who nodded quietly. They were plotting something against me.

  "What are you guys saying?" I asked the laughing faces staring at me.

  "Nothing," Annie smiled, and that alone made me uncomfortable.

  Everyone went silent. Even Zoey paused to chuckle while chewing. She turned her head to me. Her smiley eyes locked on mine for a second, totally unreadable, before going back to her meal. Of course, she was trying to give me the green light. That girl has to be madly in love with me. I knew my new fit would get all the girls.

  Again, the table went quiet, but shortly after, Jaiden pointed at my left hand. "Yo. That scar. You still got it?"

  I looked down at the pale line between my palm and wrist.

  "You remember The Dogs' Council?" Jaiden said, grinning. “That dumbass game we played back in the woods with the older kids? You got that scar when you lost and you still have it until now!”

  “How can I forget?”

  Annie blinked. “The Dogs what?”

  Jaiden put down his spoon, starting to explain with his hands, a smile on his face. “Okay. So, me and Armani used to hang out at this house in the woods. Runaways, mostly. Older boys ran the place; I'm talking gangsters and bad people. They made up this game to keep us in check, and to know who's doing what behind their backs. We always played it whenever some shit happened and didn't know who was behind it.”

  Zoey and Annie lowered their forks and turned to him as he continued, “Everyone wrote their name on slips of paper. The older boys—they played the judges—shook ’em up real good in a jar, handed us each a random name, and boom: you’re a motherfucking dog now.”

  Laura put down her cup and repeated, “A dog?”

  "Yeah. You sniff out whoever’s name you get. Watch them. Dig up secrets. Then, the judges hold a council and everyone writes what they found on the back of the paper."

  I couldn't help but smile. Memories were flooding my brain, and I had this feeling in my chest. I think that's what city people call 'nostalgia'.

  "What's the point of this?" Zoey asked.

  Jaiden answered, “The judges read all the secrets out loud. And we all had to figure out which ones were the losers.”

  Laura raised an eyebrow. “And if someone lied?”

  “Didn’t matter. The judges picked someone to punish,” I said.

  "Punish? How?" she asked, leaning against the table, totally absorbed.

  “Depends. Beating. Kicking them out. Starving them. You name it,” I shrugged.

  Annie bounced in her seat. "That's fun! I wanna play it."

  I gave her a look. “It's not a game for girls.”

  Jaiden, the asshole, added, “Armani got smacked hard trying to frame someone else for stealing.” He laughed. “He cried for, like, two hours or something.”

  I glared at him. "Why are you an asshole?"

  Jaiden's smile dropped as he looked at me amid the giggles. He shrugged, moving his lips without making a sound, but because we've been friends for an eternity, I could understand. "What? It's not that bad!"

  Laura huffed. “That’s straight-up evil. What if a bunch of guys ganged up and lied about someone? How’s that fair?”

  Annie spoke with her mouth full. "That's the fun of it, Laura. You don't know who to trust."

  Jaiden paused, I could see painful memories flashing before his eyes. “That happened. A lot.”

  We all went our separate ways to class. I stuck with Jaiden and Annie since we're in the same class, while Zoey and Laura headed off to theirs—they’re older than us. After the first period, things got weird. Both Jaiden and Annie disappeared at the same time and I had Math class alone.

  At lunch, I texted everyone to meet up, but none of them answered. I tried calling them, each one of them, even Zoey who isn’t my friend. No one picked up. I looked for them in the cafeteria, but they weren't there either.

  Were they ghosting me on purpose? Did they plan this during breakfast? Was that what all that whispering was about?

  I barely had time to think when this girl popped up at my table while I was having lunch by myself. The light from the huge glass windows reflected off her wide forehead straight into my eyes, nearly blinding me. "Hello, are you the new student? Your name is..." She looked down at her tablet, then smiled at me. "Armani Mikhailoff. Are you a foreigner, by the way? It's written here that you're American."

  "I'm American... As far as I know," I shrugged, taking a spoonful of rice and shoving it in my mouth.

  She giggled. “Okay, Mr. American-as-far-as-you-know, I’m Marigold, from the student council! I’m here to help you pick a club.”

  I blinked, stopped chewing. “A… club?”

  Up until that point, all I knew about clubs were strip clubs.

  "Yes, is there something in particular you're interested in?" she asked with a tiny smile.

  I have a lot of stuff I’m interested in, but something was telling me to keep my mouth shut and let the girl go on.

  "There's soccer, basketball, tennis, in case you like physical activity. We also have art club, drama club, literature club..."

  Oh, that's what she meant by club! Of course, a peasant like me who had never been to a school before would get it wrong.

  "Soccer," I blurted out, swallowing all the food in my mouth. "Sign me up for soccer."

  "Oh, you like soccer? That's cool." Marigold typed something on her tablet.

  Actually, I knew nothing about soccer except that you kick balls, but it's the only sport I know. Plus, I had that date with the person who sent me the letter.

  Marigold’s face lit up. “Perfect!” She tapped something on her screen once again. “Go to the field after lunch and talk to Coach Sam. He’ll get you sorted.” She offered a sweet student council smile, and vanished just like the other assholes.

  When I stepped into the soccer field, it was empty.

  Sunlight poured over the turf, too bright, too quiet. I found the locker room. One guy sat on a bench, nose buried in a tablet. Thick glasses. Old. Tired eyes. Coach Sam?

  “You’re the new guy?” he muttered, more to himself than me. He stood up slowly and opened a locker, "Marigold didn't tell me you were this tall, so I didn't prepare... oh, here's a good one."

  Being called tall was the only compliment I received this morning.

  He pulled a hanger from a locker and tossed it my way. Jersey, shorts and a pair of socks. They smelled like clean laundry and a hospital waiting room.

  “Find sneakers that fit. Practice starts at one-thirty.” Then he left, the door clicking shut behind him.

  I pulled out my phone.

  12:50 PM. Early.

  I changed into the gear—cool fabric against my skin, still heavy with detergent, comfy, edgy, a real bad boy in the arena. The sneakers fit, kinda. I stashed my phone and uniform in a seperate locker and headed out to the empty soccer field, making my way to the middle.

  The sun was burning down now, heavy on my shoulders. I kept looking around, scanning every corner, but there was no one. Not even the old guy I'd just met.

  I waited. A lot. The sun kept beating down. I could tell I'd been waiting for a while, just standing there under that glare. My eyes drifted down to my feet. My sneakers had come untied. I knelt down to tie them, making sure both laces were good and tight.

  When I stood back up, I heard the gunshot. And that's when I found myself on the ground with blood all over my thigh, pooling in the grass beneath me.

  Laura’s voice cuts through the air, "Oh god! Oh god! Oh god! We need help!" She throws her arms up, yelling at anyone who may hear us outside the field, "Help! Help!"

  Jaiden is just standing there a few steps away, eyes wide, mouth opened, and lips trembling.

  Annie's the first to move. She drops to her knees, pulls out a handkerchief, and slaps it against my thigh.

  I let out a whimper. It hurts like hell when I try to move, and blood doesn’t stop coming out. The handkerchief is already soaked. I take a deep breath. The pain dulls gradually with every deep inhale until it becomes background noise. Jaiden squats down next to me and watches me closely.

  My eyes land on Zoey. She's walking around like a crazy bitch, her hair flying everywhere, as she whips her head around super-fast. Her gaze is glued to the grass. She reaches down and grabs something. "Here's the bullet." She turns to me, her voice less cold than usual. "I knew you were just grazed."

  Laura shouts from the sidelines, “The coach is coming!”

  My muscle twitches and the pain screams again. I bite down on my lower lip to not make any sound.

  Annie hurries to inspect the bullet. “Nine-millimeter. This can bust bones if it got a good shot.” She looks at Zoey. “Pistol, right?”

  Zoey nods without blinking, her eyes are wide. “Yeah. Nine-millimeter pistol.” She turns to me. “It’s a miracle you’re alive until now.”

  I know the two girls are gun experts, but… how did Zoey find the bullet that fast? How can Annie tell what kind of gun it is so easily? And why aren’t they panicking like Laura or scared like Jaiden?

  But then, a sudden realization hits me and I can’t avoid it: They knew I’d get shot.

  Or worse, they may have planned it.

  It has to be a setup.