A Scarlett Ruin

Chapter Two

If there was ever one thing that Julian was talented at, it was making snap decisions.

So when he and Amir had gone into town to meet their dealer – a man that had a put on tough voice and a weakness for snapbacks – it had been him that had thrown the cash down while his friend waffled. Surprising seeing as it was Amir that was really the coke fiend out of the bunch of them. Yet, even after all these years, Amir was the one that always glanced over his shoulder like he expected to be caught.

Maybe it was the guilt of religion, or he might just have some deeply hidden morals.

Julian knew that he cared, but probably not in the way his friends' hoped. He'd never been the type to look behind him. Why should he be bothered? No one dared. In a way he knew it was pure arrogance, in a rather self-aware way, but also well deserved.

Their trip in to town had been met with enthusiasm from Mason, but there had been hissing disapproval from Declan. It wasn't exactly a shock. It was the way their little group went, and had been working since primary school, stuck in the same elite circle they didn't understand. The reaction did nothing to faze Julian. He'd only laughed and dragged the gangly boy down to his level in order to press a kiss as rough as a fist to his perfectly styled quiff – a ginger Moz, he was.

Declan had shoved him away instantly, trying to scowl but there'd been a reluctant smile pushing the edges of his lips upwards. Of course he raised a hand to his hair, just to check.

So with a two fingered salute in their direction, Julian had yanked Amir along with him. The school uniforms would have them sticking out like sore thumbs in any of the surrounding towns, and they'd swept back into the boy's dormitory to change. Not that Julian could ever hold himself in a fashion that allowed him to blend in with a crowd; it came from the aloof haughtiness of his upbringing. His grandmother would have liked to call it class, but he managed to see through that at least.

The car they'd rolled into town with should have been clue enough that they didn't quite belong there. The dark green of the hood managed to glint even underneath the unsure sun. It was a classic enough vehicle to gain them more than their share of attention. Soon enough the looks were turned into rolled eyes and mutters when they noticed the seventeen year olds that were behind the dash of the Spitfire.

Yes they stood out. However they'd learnt over the years that with enough cash in hand, a person could get anything someone wanted there. The students of Annandale probably funded the place. A person just had to be careful not to blatantly wear the crest of the school and anything could be placed in their hands. Not unlike the way they'd been raised.

With glass clinking around Amir's feet when Julian took the corners too fast, they made their way back to school. There was an open bottle that was passed for him to take a sip every once in a while. The powder and pills they'd bought stuffed carelessly into the glove box. They couldn't arsed to put any effort into hiding it. Not that Julian minded. If they got pulled over and arrested, he knew how it would go. His bail would be promptly paid for, there would be whispers to make his grandparents blush, but the donation would be made to the school and he'd be back before the day was over.

It'd happened before.

They raced down the streets without meeting another car, the golden leaves of autumn whipping past them and beneath the tires. The top up against the fall breeze. Amir had the stereo blasting to some rap album that Mason had left in there, and he passed the bottle over. The steering wheel slipped in Julian's grip as he took it.

Julian wondered just what would happen if he let go of the steering wheel and dropped his head back to close his eyes. It would be easy enough to do. And more than tempting. They'd wrapped their fair share of cars around trees, but never at this speed.