A squeal of metal and smashing glass reverberates through the parking lot. The Bel Air skids out of its space, turning a full one-eighty as it bounces down the tiny strip of grass that separates the parking lot from the building and slides into the ditch, slamming to a stop against the end of a culvert.
Silence falls over the parking lot. Everyone is too stunned to move. Only a dozen people are outside, all of them standing frozen as they watch the beautiful chariot that carries the kings of the school turn into a crumpled heap, like a smashed tin can.
Devlin moves first. He leaps at the Rover, which sits sideways across the coveted parking spot. Steam billows up from the crumpled hood, the whole front end smashed in. I scream, lurching for the door of the Hummer and spilling out onto the pavement. I scramble to my feet as Devlin jerks open the crumpled passenger door. King jumps out to meet him, grabbing Devlin by the front of his jacket.
“Guess we didn’t see you there,” King growls, shaking Devlin. “Inourparking space.”
Devlin swings, his fist connecting with King’s jaw. He’s beyond words. His eyes are completely insane. Royal dives across the seat and leaps into the fight, smashing into Devlin and King. He goes for Devlin, who doesn’t seem to care who he’s punching. He slams a fist into Royal’s face, smashing his nose. Royal stumbles back, reaching for Devlin, but he’s too fast. He whirls like a dervish, fists raining down on my brothers. Blood sprays onto the pavement around them.
I scream and race toward them, blinded by panic. He’s going to kill my brother.
There’s no thought behind my urge to protect my twin, only instinct. Because if I could manage a thought, it would put me over the edge. If I could manage one thought, it would be that Devlin is completely insane. He fights with a recklessness that Royal doesn’t have, with a complete lack of self-preservation, as if he doesn’t care which one of them dies in this fight, but it’s going to the death.
Before I reach them, Royal looks up from where he’s throttling Devlin.
“Crystal, get the fuck away,” he yells.
And in his one moment of distraction, Devlin strikes. His fist connects with Royal’s head so hard I can hear the crack like a watermelon dropping to the ground. Royal crumples sideways, his body sprawling limp on the pavement.
I scream, diving for him. But Duke’s strong arms wrap around me from behind, lifting me off my feet. I kick and scream, blinded by panic.
Devlin jumps to his feet and starts kicking Royal savagely, completely out of control and apparently unaware that Royal’s no longer fighting.
“Stop,” I scream, but no one is listening in the chaos. Everyone is screaming.
King tackles Devlin, and they crash to the ground. Preston leaps onto them, his arm wrapping around King’s neck from behind. A second later, sirens blare in the lot, and a cop car jerks to a stop beside us. Two cops leap out and run over to break up the fight. Devlin’s still going, punching so wildly I don’t think he even knows that Preston’s one of the people on him, or that a cop is. Only when they start beating the fighters with their clubs do they get them apart.
They push Devlin face down to the pavement and snap a pair of cuffs on his wrists. Preston and King stand with their hands above their heads, waiting their turn to be handcuffed.
“Who called the fucking cops?” Duke asks, his arms still around me as the cop arrests my oldest brother and two Darlings.
An ambulance arrives, and EMTs jump out and come over to pick up Royal. My heart nearly stops, and I tear myself free of Duke’s grasp and run to my insane, fight-happy twin. All my brothers have their vices, their risky behaviors that make them feel alive, that put them so close to the edge that they can look over and stare death in the eyes. But Royal, my god. Why does he have to choose the most dangerous one of all?
I fall to my knees beside him, choking on a sob and ignoring the EMTs telling me to back off. He has to be okay. He fucking has to.
“Wake up,” I beg him, gripping his hand like it’s the only thing saving me from drowning. My voice drops to a whisper as tears stream down my face. “Please.”
Royal’s hand twitches a moment before his lids flutter open. His dark eyes lock on mine, and his fingers tighten. “Crystal.”
“I’m here,” I say, a hysterical laugh bubbling through my tears. “You big idiot. You were knocked out cold. You scared me to death.”
“Everyone’s okay?” he asks, struggling to sit up.
The EMTs push him back down, insisting he lie there while they get the stretcher ready.
“Fine,” I say, wiping my face. “King and the Darlings got arrested.”
Royal keeps saying he’s okay, but they still want to put him in the ambulance, check if he has a concussion, and make a fuss over him. Devlin, Preston and King are sitting on curbs while the cops talk to a few students. The headmaster and some other admin are out now, urging us all to get to class. More cops arrive, as well as a wrecker to haul away the smashed cars.
I refuse to leave Royal’s side. If he’s going to the hospital, I’m sure as hell going with him. I don’t want to give a statement about what happened. Baron has it all on video, anyway.
I accompany Royal to the hospital, where they tell him he has a concussion. Daddy comes in fuming mad, but after talking with Royal, he only nods and says, “Don’t let anyone push you around, son.”
Daddy drops us off at home that afternoon, leaves strict orders for me to take care of Royal, and goes off to deal with King. The house seems quiet without him. It’s so big, bigger than the brownstone by at least three or four times. There are rooms in this place I don’t even know the names for.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I say to Royal at last. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”
“He had it coming,” Royal says, laying back in a recliner. “He wrecked my car. I wrecked his.”