Boxset Bully: Arcadia High Anarchists Complete Series Read online

  Table of Contents

  BLURB

  MAILING LIST

  GOOD GIRLS

  BAD BOYS

  RICH RIOT

  LOYAL LOVE

  DONE DEAL

  ALSO BY MAX

  READER GROUP

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BOXSET BULLY

  Arcadia High Anarchists Complete Series

  Copyright © 2021 Max Henry

  Published by Max Henry

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Max Henry is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, or artists mentioned in this book.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  A popular girl at a prestigious school, Lacey led a good life... until her father is jailed for fraud. Starting anew in the country presents its own problems, but when the kids of Arcadia High take notice, she becomes fresh meat for the starved. Lacey's about to find out how cruel jealous teens can be.

  ARCADIA HIGH ANARCHISTS

  Reading Order

  Good Girls

  Bad Boys

  Rich Riot

  Loyal Love

  Done Deal

  Resilience

  re·sil·ience

  /rəˈzilyəns/

  noun

  1.

  the capacity to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness.

  Fingers clamped on the edge of the wooden bench seat, I swing my feet back and forth, watching the changing hues of the morning sun across the dented and scuffed floorboards. I’m used to polished marble, or flecked granite under my feet. However, where I set my shoes is the least of my worries now.

  Eight months ago, our entire world fell out from beneath our feet. Although my father was never directly involved, by being a major stakeholder in the company, he was guilty by association. Profit from deception, false accounting, and party to the offence—all the things that no respectable businessman’s reputation could ever recover from.

  He was the fall guy. His partners—men he'd known for most of his life—effectively made him the scapegoat by keeping him in the dark. The affected creditors? They were paid out using my family's fortune. The men responsible? Although jailed, their millions were protected since they had time to prepare. They buried their wealth, knowing the day would come when the thrill-ride would be over.

  My father did the best he could to repay the people he'd come to know as friends as well as clients. Four partners, and only one with a heart.

  Welcome to modern business.

  “Would you mind double-checking this for me?” Mum hands the uniform list for my new school across to the older man behind the panelled counter.

  Colt was easy to outfit; there aren’t as many options on his list. A change of shirt depending on if the occasion is formal or casual, and that’s it.

  Mine, however. I have damn near a whole new wardrobe to organise.

  Arcadia College.

  One of the oldest and most prestigious high schools in the country. Only this time around, unlike Riverbourne Preparatory, prestigious doesn’t necessarily equal money. Nope. Instead, they earn their titles through academic records. They have the top four students in the whole country enrolled at their campus.

  I have my work cut out for me. Don’t get me wrong; I’m bright. But my focus was on other… gifts, shall we say, until now. I get the feeling that social status and deportment won’t mean much to these kids.

  “Boots,” the man says, gesturing to the bottom of the official list. “Does she have any?”

  Mum scoffs. “She has plenty.”

  “She” is also right here.

  The man gives Mum an unconvinced nod, lifts his eyebrows, and then starts ringing up the total. Three shirts—yep, shirts not blouses—a blazer, denim shorts, jeans, moleskin slacks for formal occasions, and a necktie. Oh, and a brimmed hat a la Wild West styles for full formal dress, too.

  Shorts and jeans. Shorts. And jeans.

  Where the hell are the skirts? The dresses?

  “That comes to seven hundred and thirty even.”

  I glance out the storefront bay windows while Mum hands her gold AMEX over to settle the bill.

  “There’s a 2.5% surcharge on AMEX. Is that okay?”

  The tinny whine of a small engine grows in the distance.

  “Of course, it is.”

  I narrow my eyes on the street outside, barely paying attention to the beeps of the machine as the man puts the order through. A mixture of dirt-covered trucks and more practical clean sedans line the parking bays. Planter boxes overflow with lush greenery, and hanging baskets sprout an array of colour adding to the charm of the rolled verandas on the storefronts. I straighten my back to see over a dark grey truck, seeking out the source of the noise, when the card-reader squeals behind me.

  “I’m sorry. That’s been declined.”

  “Try it again,” Mum snaps.

  I stand to watch the motorbike as it approaches. Crisp white with bright red accents, the rider wears a matching helmet over her long auburn hair. With one eyebrow raised, I step closer to the enormous glass window. I can’t say what I expected, but a girl on a dirt bike was not it.

  The machine screams again.

  “Insufficient funds,” the man whispers despite the fact we’re the only people in his little shop.

  Even at twenty paces, I can hear my mother swallow away her shame. “Well, if I give you our address, you can send us the invoice, and we’ll settle it later.”

  The girl on the bike stops at the T-intersection across from the shop, resting one foot on the ground to keep her balance.

  “We don’t offer store credit.” The man’s impatience is clear.

  The rider eases around the corner and into a gap between two cars. With seemingly natural grace and poise, she dismounts. I tip my head to one side and watch as she removes the helmet, shaking out her long waves.

  “What are my options then?” Mum snaps at the poor man.

  I break away from the scene before me as the girl rests her helmet on the handlebars of the bike. “I can help, Mum.”

  She jerks her head back, eyebrows high as though I slapped her. “Don’t be silly.”

  I retrieve my shoulder bag and fish out the small zipped purse containing what’s left of my cash allowances. My mother is positively mortified, her hand clasped so tight on the useless AMEX that I worry she might bend it. I set eight hundred-dollar bills on the counter and then slide the stack toward the softly smiling man.

  “Thank you, darlin’.” He quickly rings up the order and offers my change while Mum turns and storms from the shop.

  I stash the money he gave me and then collect the bags. “Thank you for your help.”

  “You enjoy your new school, okay?” He leans over and snags a pack of uniform-coloured hair accessories and pops them in one of the bags.

  All I can do is smile and pretend that his generosity means something. But when I’m accustomed to getting “freebies” all the time due to the amount we would spend each trip out, it’s the intention behind the gesture that’s the only thing different now.

  He doesn’t reward me for spending large—I’m rewarded for managing to cover the bill.

  I step out onto the narrow pavement to the sound of hooves clip-clopping along the sealed road. Mum stands, shoulders back, head turned toward the source of the noise.

  Two guys around my age ride what—to me at least—are massive animals down the road. What the hell? I mean we’re in the country now, sort of, but really? Animals on the main street? They wear worn denim and checked shirts; the sleeves straining over what are well-honed bodies. Country boys can be kind of hot, it seems.

  One of the guys slows his horse and stops beside the motorbike. His eyes narrow beneath the brim of his hat as he glances around the street before saying something to his buddy. The other guy nods, and then the first urban cowboy leans down to snag the helmet. A feat, given his high position in the saddle, yet I’m sure one that’s second nature for him.

  Me? I would have fallen flat on my arse.

  “Let’s go, Lacey,” Mum snips. “I’ve had enough of this savage town for one day.”

  More like she knows she’s out of funds. Otherwise, we’d be across the road in a heartbeat and eating at the café that has incredible smells emanating from it.

  My stomach growls its disappointment. I know, I know. I could kill for a spiced latte about now, too.

  “Tuck Brallant! Don’t you dare!” The stunning girl from the bike dashes out onto the roadside.

  But she’s too late.

  Th
e guy—Tuck—lets rip a laugh that’s as large as life as his damn animal and then digs his heels into the sides of the beast. The horse crouches back on its rear legs before launching into what is an impressive display of speed. The cacophony of hooves on tarseal is deafening when his friend joins in pursuit.

  “Where are their parents?” Mum scolds, turning for our car. “You can’t tell me the town stand for this kind of reckless behaviour.”

  But as the girl jumps on her bike—sans helmet—and starts it with a roar, I get the feeling they do.

  Especially when none of the other bystanders blink an eye as she speeds off down the street to catch the troublemakers on horseback.

  Maybe this change will be fun, after all?

  “You wouldn’t believe it,” my mother grumbles, slicing into her overcooked steak. “Those kids were running riot along the main street as though it were some… some playground.”

  I glance to Dad where he sits at the head of the table, Mum to his right, opposite me. He works the knife through his meat also, chewing his bottom lip while he agrees with a simple, “Mmm.”

  “Their behaviour was nothing short of reckless, James. What if they’d dashed out into the street while I had been driving?”

  “Then I guess you would have needed to make an evasive manoeuvre,” he states with the slightest tinge of sarcasm.

  Mum sighs heavily, pushing her meat aside with her fork.

  She still learns how to cook. Preparing the nightly meal for the family is something Alicia Williams is not accustomed to doing.

  I mash the overcooked carrot with the back of my fork and then scoop it up into one mouthful.

  “I hope neither of you has those children in your classes,” Mum remarks, glancing between Colt and me.

  I turn my head left and study my brother while I chew. He’s watched this whole conversation with a mischievous gleam in his eye so far; I’d love to know what thoughts run through his mind.

  “I’m sure the chance of having at least one in the same subject is high, Mother.”

  “Perhaps I need to speak with the Dean,” Mum grumbles into her salad.

  Dad snaps his head up, fork down. “No. Let the kids settle in before you start causing trouble.”

  “I don’t see how looking out for our children’s best interests is trouble,” she retorts.

  “Who says they’re all that bad, anyway?” I ask. “It looked as though they had fun.”

  “Nobody asked for your opinion,” Mum says with a dismissive tilt of her head. “Finish your dinner, Lacey.”

  I exchange a knowing look with Dad. We’ve become closer than we already were throughout this transition. I still don’t fully understand the details of the court case or what his lawyer did to get a settlement that avoided major jail time. All I care about is that we’re still together as a family.

  Colt? Not so much. I glance my brother’s way when he sighs at the tough slab of dark meat. Unlike me, the distance between Colt and Dad grew to the point they barely talk anymore.

  I know Colt holds it against Dad, the fact we lost it all.

  Everything.

  “Can you give me a hand cleaning up?” Dad asks as he rises from the table.

  I nod, stuffing in the last mouthful of my vegetables. Colt will disappear into his room, and Mum will take up residence in the living room after dinner. I don’t see why he should have to do it all alone.

  Alicia may have resigned herself to the fact she must now learn how to cook meals, but her commitment to cleaning stops at pushing the buttons on the washing machine. So, Dad and I tidy the kitchen every night, and I hang the clothes out to dry each morning after breakfast.

  We haven’t decided who vacuums yet, taking turns in the interim. I think Mum hasn’t tried because she doesn’t know how to use it or what all the attachments are for.

  Come to think of it, I’m not sure she was ever home when our maid would clean in the city to have some idea of what goes where.

  “So,” Dad starts as he rinses the plates off. “Are you excited about Monday?”

  School holidays end this weekend. As of Monday, I’ll officially be one of the newest students at Arcadia College.

  “A little.”

  “Nervous?” He smiles over at me while I retrieve the dish towel.

  I match his grin. “Completely.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  I lean against the counter and watch as he fills the sink with warm water and soap. If we want to install a dishwasher, he said we need to ask the landlord.

  The landlord.

  I still can’t wrap my head around the knowledge we pay somebody to live in this hovel.

  “Did you get everything you needed today?” Dad swirls a cloth over the first plate.

  I chance a cursory glance toward Mum, wondering if she told him about the issue with her card. “Yeah. I only need boots, but I have so many I’m sure I’ll find a pair that suit.”

  “Good.”

  I take the dripping plate from him. “What about you?” My towel circles the flat surfaces. “Do you like your new job?”

  “It’s work, Lace. That’s all we need to worry about.”

  He doesn’t say anything more on the subject, and I don’t press. Dad’s eyes hold a vacancy that I’m not accustomed to. It’s as though he shuts off and retreats within himself while he cleans the evidence of Mum’s poorly cooked meal from our crockery.

  I’d almost say he looks ashamed.

  I finish up in the kitchen with Dad, giving him a quick hug before I head to my room for the night. In our old home, Colt and I had our side of the apartment furnished with a small kitchenette and a private lounge for entertaining our friends.

  Here, the living room is shared with the dining area. You can’t hold a conversation without everybody hearing what you have to say. I think that’s why Mum prefers that Colt and I make ourselves scarce in the evening; she doesn’t want us to hear subjects that aren’t ours to be concerned with.

  Like why her AMEX card declined.

  “Hey.” I knock softly on Colt’s doorframe.

  He glances up from where he’s lounged on his bed. “Come in.”

  I cross the room and settle myself on the end of his double bed. Legs tucked beneath me, I lean forward to try and see his screen. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Arthur.” His thumbs fly across the phone. “He said Libby is having a party at her place tomorrow. Has she let you know?”

  “Greer mentioned it.” I try in vain to mask my disappointment that I had to hear about my once bestie’s party through another friend.

  Colt studies me for a mere second before shifting his attention back to the device in his hand. “She probably got her to tell you so that there’s no record of the conversation on her phone.” He swipes up. “Her parents check that kind of thing, you know.”

  I nod. “Yeah. I know.”

  “Hey.” Colt sets his phone aside and reaches for me. I take comfort in the weight of his hand on my knee. “It’s not your fault, okay? How Libby feels about you hasn’t changed.”

  “It’s still hard, though. We’re so far away from them now.”

  “We’re forty minutes away,” he levels. “It’s not that far.”

  “It is when I don’t have a car.” I fight back the childish tears that threaten to fall. After everything that happened, being upset that I never got my birthday car is ridiculously selfish.

  “Good thing I do then, huh?” Colt rolls onto his side, facing me.

  I reach out and squeeze his bicep. “What are you going to do now you have no gym membership?”

  “I’ll find other ways to stay fit.” He waggles his eyebrows.

  “Ew!” I giggle and smack him on the chest.

  He falls to his back, chuckling. “You don’t need to worry, Lace. We might not live near Riverbourne anymore, but we’ll always be who we were there.”

  I sigh, my shoulders dropping. “How? How can you say that when we’ve lost it all? Our wealth. Our status. Our inheritance.”

  “It doesn’t change who you are in here.” He prods a thick finger to the centre of my chest. “You were and always will be one of The Chosen, Lace.”

  “Just the one with the least chance, huh?”

  Colt pushes up to sit, then taking my face in his hands. “You are gorgeous, sis. You were born for our world. You were born to be seen. Don’t let this slip-up throw you off course. Got it?”