I left my home, such as it was, in the bayou, and met up with my podna's at the new levee bridge. I cursed the bridge every time I drove over it. It had just been finished this summer, connecting the town of Sterling to the Basin, where I lived. Before the bridge was built, we would have had to drive fifty miles around the lake to get to Sterling High, but now, because of this bridge, we had to switch schools. It was a joke, and the joke was on us.

The Basin was Cajun. Cajun is a shortened version of Canadian or Acadian. We were descended from the French Canadian Catholics who had been forcibly migrated to the swamps of Louisiana hundreds of years ago, their wealth stolen and left behind. Since then the poverty stricken Acadians had intermarried with Native American, Hispanic, Irish, and Black and White Creoles. We had never become wealthy or middle class. Most of us were firmly at or below poverty level and always would be. The Sterling population was made up of mostly White Protestants. We couldn't be more different. Our people went over there to work, not socialize. We were their farm workers, their wait staff, their maids, lawn care, whatever. To go to school with them…this was just asking for trouble.

The five of us were closest to the levee, so the district was sending us to Sterling. Once all three of our bikes were at the bridge we left together. I was riding solo, Clotile, my sister in all but name, was riding with Lionell. Tee-bo and Gaston together on the last. Lionell was my podna in crime more often than not, but I'd just finished doing time in juvie.

I wasn't sorry for what I'd done, non. The man I'd turned into bagasse, cane pulp, had hurt my Maman. When I'd gotten in his way, he'd gone after me. When I'd finished with him, I made sure he wouldn't hurt another woman again. Judge hadn't seen things my way though. Didn't matter. Story just added to my reputation which meant more safety for me and my mere. She had the worst taste in men, including my father, who'd never given us time or a dime, more interested in spoiling his own family in Sterling.

I grinned when I saw Clotile's shirt, clearly seeing our theme for the day. It was a hot pink crop T-shirt which said in bold black letters, "I GOT BURBON-FACED ON SHIT STREET." She was obviously taking no prisoners today. She was also wearing a mini-skirt that flared out when she walked. The boys would be having trouble keeping their tongues in their mouths.

We roared off the bridge and onto the highway. I lead the pack, roaring along, but slowed as we came upon a cherry red Porsche with the top down. A babe was leaning over, her ass up high, kissing the driver's cheek. I cruised to maintain speed, getting a good look at that oh so fine piece of tail. She had on a short blue dress and those pale legs of hers may have gone on forever, oh, mais, that ass. She had long, thick blond hair blowing in the wind.

I loved that she didn't care that her hairstyle was ruined.

I hated she was kissing him.

Mais then, she must have felt the heat of my stare, because she turned around and looked at me over her shoulder. Her hair was in the way. Pull it out of the way bonne fille, let me see that face. Ouais, belle and bonne! Beautiful and good, but maybe a little bad too.

With one arm, she held her hair away from her face, and her cornflower blue eyes met mine. She was gorgeous. Red lips, petite features, nearly pixie.

Something so small and needing to be protected, but so luscious that I desperately wanted her. More than that, I had an envie for her, a craving that made my mouth water.

She looked younger than me. She wouldn't be in my year. I was 18, nearly 19 and a Junior. Juvie took time, so did hospital stays when I was younger. Mom's boyfriends couldn't get much worse. Unfortunately I knew the driver. He didn't know me though.

Once upon a time, a man from Sterling and gotten a taste for a girl from the Bayou, and had gotten her knocked up. When she'd told him this, thinking he'd man up and shoulder his responsibilities, he walked away, telling her she wouldn't get one penny from him. Then he'd gotten married a month later to another woman in Sterling, and she'd born a son about six months after his mere.

Once, when I'd been thirteen, and ma mere had been between jobs, and there'd been no food in the house, I'd looked up my father's information and asked to meet him. The man had agreed, and we met at a quiet park in biking distance from my house. I'd told him about how we needed help, asking him for some support, but he'd been a cold SOB, saying some big words to put me off about how if he gave us money it would be admitting culpability. I couldn't believe he'd agree to meet with me only to tell me he wouldn't help me or have anything to do with me.

Later, when I could drive, I'd looked him up, driven by his rich house, scouted out his family. He spoiled his son, the boy in the red car beside with with the jolie blon beside him. She was with him, but even with my visor on, she couldn't keep her eyes off me. No laws against looking, even if she wasn't mine. I wanted though. Mais, I'd be careful not to take ma mere's road. Best not to get caught up wanting what wasn't mine, what wouldn't ever be mine. Still, no harm in playing a bit. If I couldn't have, I could sure look. My heated gaze raked her form. She flushed, and sat her fine ass down in her seat, her eyes still on mine. Probably wondering what I looked like behind my tinted visor.

I tilted my chin up in acknowledgment, and in thanks for the viewing pleasure, then looked at the road just in time. Huge pothole. I dodged it just in time. Adrenaline rush! If I hadn't looked up when I had, I would've tumbled off my bike head first.

I left her behind, mais, I couldn't get that girl out of my head. Mais, a serious envie for true. I'd better forget her though, if I didn't want to end up like my mere, drunk all the time, wanting what I couldn't have.

The three of us pulled off a little ways away from the school, talking over strategy. Lionell said it best. "Mais, they're never goan to accept us. Why even try? We'll go in, show them we're not meant to be messed with, and keep our own company. End of story."

Clotile looked sad about this but she was no fool. She knew girls were cruel; rich fille's were no different. She'd never be able to dress like them, look like them, or talk like them. For example, we said dem for them. Just our way. Mais began most of our sentences, just a Cajun habit. Our drawl was a mix of southern, French, and oddly, the Irish ancestry lent a bit of north-eastern accent. And again, we were poor. They'd hate her for who she was even if she tried to fit in. Why try?

Tee-bo was a good sort, but he'd go along with the group. Gaston, he figured Lionell was right and I did too. We loaded back up and made our entrance: Loud and obnoxious. The entire parking lot went dead quiet when we entered, just watching. The Cajuns were here and we could give a shit what they thought.

We parked and dismounted, I took off my helmet and shook out my hair. It was longer than fashionable but cheaper that way. I liked it and the filles liked it so it was all good. Lionell gave his bike a roar and startled some of the preppy students walking by. They shrieked. We laughed. Good to know they scared easy. It meant no one would be messing around with us for the top dog spot.

I clocked the fille I'd had the staring match with. Gorgeous blue eyes in a gorgeous blue sundress was standing in a huddle with three other girls. Her beau wasn't with her, and she was toting her own bag which weighed her down. That was foolish of him. He should let others know she was taken, mind his territory. Looked like it was open season on her.

I wondered how receptive she'd be to a play. Some thought that staring match thing died in elementary school. What they didn't know, was all women wanted to think they were beautiful. What they wanted even more than that, was for a man to show he thought they were beautiful. Best way to do that? A good, long, heated stare.

She and her friends started heading our way. I gave her another one, head to toe and back again. She blushed. Excellent. Receptive. I caught my podnas' attention as they neared.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when blue eyes introduced herself as Evie. She seemed genuinely welcoming. She even smiled at each of us, particularly Clotile. I wondered if she was playing a game. It seemed too good to be true. But on the other hand, if someone was going to be welcoming, I wasn't goan to knock it.

Lionell nearly messed the whole thing up but I told him to shut it and made the introductions. I wanted an in with Evie. If there was even a sliver of a chance that I could get her, I wanted it. And I was goan to take it.

After they left, I told Lionell and the others that we were going to change our game plan. Lionell didn't like it none, but he listened. We would be cordial to Miss Evie and her friends. If anyone gave us shit we could always dish it out twice over, but these fille's seemed to have the top dog position among the ladies of the school. They might could smooth our way in. Might as well accept what was offered. It wouldn't be offered twice. If they were playing a game, we could screw them harder. Stay cautious, don't tell any secrets, but play the game. See how it goes. When we were agreed, we entered Sterling High.