Prince Charmings (BOOK ONE)

3

"You need a haircut," April said, as if today was any other day.

I glanced towards the mirror, hands faltering in their attempts to button up my shirt. Mom had spent the better part of an hour ironing the thing, claiming she needed to use a cool setting to avoid burning the fabric but we all knew she needed to give herself something to do.

When the button slipped past my fingers for the fourth time I had to fight back to urge to tear the thing off my chest and into the trashcan.

Running a hand through the shaggy mess on my head I had to admit that my sister was right. The ends had grown far too long, bleached honey-blond from sun exposure against the hard chestnut brown of my roots.

Clark chuckled every time he caught sight of them, calling me Goldilocks. I'd throw him a little barb back, remind him of the phase in middle school when he dyed his hair a violent pink to catch Nancy Greys' attention. He'd fake a choke-hold until I called a truce, running his hand over his buzzcut, reflecting back on the nostalgia.

I scoffed at the memory.

Clark was a fucking asshole.

He was the reason I was in this mess. Releasing a sigh, I gestured for my sister to hand me the tie I had draped on my bed-post, slowly looping it around my neck. It was a soft blue, something April said would bring out the sincerity in my eyes, whatever that meant.

When I matched my gaze in the mirror all I saw back was guilt and anger. At myself for being an idiot, at Clark, at everything really.

"Maybe my cellmate can chop my hair off for me in my sleep," I remarked and she frowned, punching my shoulder. "Take my scalp off with it."

"Not. Funny."

She added another punch before wrapping her arms around my middle. Though she had tried to keep a strong front I could tell she was nervous for me.

April had the kind of face that bled out every emotion she was feeling. It was how the entire house knew Frank Iron had dumped her before the words passed her lips. It was also how we knew she was the one who broke Dad's favorite Christmas ornament three years ago when she was thirteen. For a moment I was afraid she would start crying, her default when worried.

Both of us jump when a thump sounded behind us.

"Oh sorry, didn't know the dork convention was meeting up here," Thomas called from the door frame.

He was drenched from sweat, having returned from a run, with his headphones still blasting around his neck.

April gave him a hard look, unwrapping from my side.

I tugged at the knot of my tie, swallowing hard when it caught at the top of my shirt. I hadn't looked this formal since prom.

Thomas squatted onto the edge on of my bed, saturating the sheets instantly, ignoring my huff of protest. Instead, he wiggled in harder, the spot shifting from baby blue to navy quickly.

"I don't need your shit now Thomas," I told him, for as much as I idolized the guy I was already shitting myself. I had landed myself in hot water before, but this was different.

Juvie.

I could be going to juvie if the judge decides not to extend out my trial date.

Less than two months away from eighteen, my brain supplied.

Feeling faint I turned, leaning against the dresser as Thomas swiped a protein bar from his pocket.

"Don't sweat it, man," he said. "This is your first conviction. Judge will let you off. Probably a little service work, home detention if you mouth off. At least this will give you some street cred when you head back to school now that the suspensions over."