"Detention's over," Nicole didn't wait. She was already on her feet, bag slung over one shoulder, practically storming out like the walls were choking her. No goodbye, no backward glance—just the sharp slam of the door behind her. The sun was still pretending it was a nice day, but she wasn't fooled. Her chest was tight. Her head buzzed from the drama, the choking tension, Sky's smug smirks, and that guy—Micah. The way he'd looked at her like he knew too much. She headed toward the lot, needing air, space—anything that didn't stink of stale coffee and teenage egos. But then her steps slowed. Stopped. There it was. Her bike. Or... what used to be her bike.
It was a crumpled wreck. Frame bent like someone had body-slammed it. The tires—slashed. The seat—ripped. Pieces of plastic and chain lay scattered like roadkill. Nicole's heart punched her ribs. A black sedan was already speeding off, laughter echoing from inside as it vanished through the school gates. One of them threw a soda can out the window. It hit the pavement with a metallic clink—just a little goodbye gift. She screamed. Loud. Raw. It wasn't the fact her bike was broken but the fact she was tired of the fact she had to act cool the whole day
And it was frustrating.
She kicked the frame, hard, like it would somehow fix things. "You sons of—What the hell are you all staring at?" she snapped, turning on a group of kids watching from the sidewalk like it was a live episode of Who Got Humiliated Today. "You want a picture? Take it now!"
They scattered, quick to pretend they weren't gawking.
"Damn. That's ugly."
Nicole turned, her face stormy.
Sky leaned against a red car, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, chewing gum like this was a sitcom. "Looks like someone really hates you," she added casually, stepping closer. "Gotta say, even I wouldn't go that hard." Still chewing her gum like she was watching a season finale she open up. "Will you fly home now? Or are you summoning a broomstick?" She smirked. "Because, not gonna lie, with that rage and outfit... you do look like a witch."
Nicole exhaled slowly, her voice flat. "Do you ever shut up?"
Sky shrugged, walking over. "Only when I'm sleeping. Which you've now ruined, by the way. That scream? Very horror-movie final girl. Respect."
Nicole didn't laugh. Not even close.
"I know who did it," Sky said, her tone shifting. "They did the same to my brother's bike last year. Rich boys with zero brain cells and too much daddy money."
Nicole's eyes narrowed. "Why are you telling me this?"
Sky leaned in, her voice low. "Because I hate them. And you look like you're in the mood to cause a little chaos."
Nicole's lips twitched, almost a smirk. "You're assuming I'll say yes."
"You're already saying yes," Sky said, tossing her keys. "You just need someone to drive."
Nicole folded her arms, eyes narrowing. "We're not friends."
"Never said we were." Sky tossed her keys in the air and caught them with one hand. "This is business. Mutual rage. You in?"
Nicole stared at the mangled mess of what used to be her bike. Then at the shrinking taillights of the car that destroyed it. Her chest burned.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm in."
Sky smirked. "Good. Let's go ruin their night."
The engine purred like sin as Sky hit the gas, speeding through side streets like she was chasing something—or running from it.
Nicole leaned against the passenger door, arms folded, eyes on the road. "You sure this isn't a setup? You drive like a psycho."
Sky laughed and popped open a mini vodka bottle from the glovebox. "You're cute when you're paranoid. I don't do setups. Just chaos."
Nicole raised a brow. "And drunk driving, apparently."
Sky tilted the bottle back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Sweetheart, if you knew how much bullshit I've survived, you'd beg me to keep drinking."
Nicole didn't reply, but she didn't look away either. Sky glanced over. "So... how were you gonna get home before I swooped in? Fly? You look like a witch."
Nicole smirked. "Keep talking and I'll curse your liver."
Sky let out a dry laugh. "Already cursed, babe."
Sky turned down a side street, then another, until they reached a shadowed part of town—half lit, half forgotten. Warehouse buildings. Cracked pavement. No cameras. No witnesses. She parked behind a dumpster and killed the engine. "They hang around here. Marcos and his idiot crew."
Nicole tensed. "Marcos?"
"My ex." Sky's tone flattened. "Professional asshole. Amateur racer. Full-time disappointment."
Nicole blinked. "You brought me to your ex-boyfriend's hideout?"
Sky shrugged like it was no big deal. "He ran over your bike. And he thinks I won't do anything 'cause I've got a pretty face and daddy issues. Guess he forgot who the hell I am."
Nicole stared at her. "You're insane."
Sky smiled, dark and unbothered. "You're welcome."
Nicole looked out the windshield.
There it was. A sleek black sedan with fresh tire shine and that same arrogant gleam. Like it knew it had won. Her chest tightened. "That's it."
"Go say hi," Sky said, cracking open another bottle. "Make it... dramatic." "This is stupid," she muttered, stepping out of the car anyway. Sky didn't follow. She just sipped her drink, her eyes glassy and amused. "Don't scratch the paint too much. He's emotionally attached."
Nicole's boots hitting the pavement. She spotted a rusted iron bar near the dumpster. Picked it up. Felt the weight of it in her hand. She didn't look back. She reached it. Glared at her reflection in the glass.
"Smile for me now," she whispered—and swung.
CRASH. The back window exploded in a spray of glass. Nicole didn't stop. CRACK. SMASH. SHATTER. She hit again. And again. The windshield splintered. The side mirror dangled. The alarm never went off—cowards never think they'll get caught.
Behind her, Sky clapped once, then twice. Slow. "Now that's what I call art."
Nicole stood there, chest heaving, hair wild, face flushed with adrenaline.
And for the first time all day—she smiled. Then came the yelling. Voices inside the building—loud, pissed, and male. Sky sat up straight in the car. "Uh oh. Showtime."
Nicole turned, adrenaline spiking. The back door of the rundown building banged open, and three guys spilled out, one of them shirtless, all of them furious.
"Yo! What the—?" Marcos's voice cut through the night.
"Run!" Sky yelled.
Nicole didn't need telling twice.
She sprinted, boots slamming the pavement. Sky hit the gas, tires screeching, pulling forward just enough for Nicole to dive into the passenger seat.
"Go, go, go!" Nicole yelled, slamming the door shut.
Sky grinned and punched the pedal like she'd been waiting for this. "Now this is a Friday night!"
The car jerked forward, fishtailing as they tore out of the alley. In the rearview mirror, the guys were chasing after them, shouting threats that were mostly just F-words and testosterone. Nicole twisted in her seat, breathless and shaking with laughter. "Did you see Marcos's face?! He looked like he saw a damn demon!"
Sky whooped, wind in her hair. "You were a demon. That was hot."
Nicole laughed harder than she meant to. It cracked something open in her chest—something sharp and pent up. "God, I needed that."
"I know," Sky said, her voice lower now. "You looked like you were about to explode all week."
Nicole leaned back against the seat, still buzzing. "He ruined my bike. You don't touch a girl's ride."
"You don't touch my ex, either. But karma's a pretty bitch, huh?" Sky said, cracking open another vodka mini. "Want one?"
Nicole glanced at it, then at Sky. "Aren't you already drunk?"
"Yep," Sky said proudly, sipping anyway. "What's life without a little chaos?"
Nicole didn't take the bottle. But she didn't say no either. The night air rushed in through the half-open windows. The city blurred by—neon signs, streetlights, noise—and for once, Nicole didn't feel stuck. She felt free.
Wild. Unhinged. Alive.
"You're not as awful as I thought," Nicole said finally.
Sky grinned. "Don't get soft on me, Jackson."
Nicole smirked. "Don't get cocky."
"I'm always cocky," Sky winked. "It's part of the charm."
They sped off into the dark, two girls with nothing to lose—and a car full of broken glass in their wake.