“You're going to help me redo the survey. I've already spoken with your father, and he's agreed. Every day after school until it's done.”
“Like hell I am,” I blurt, trying to duck under his arm.
Church lets me go, but I don't make it far. No, the twins appear from out of freaking nowhere, hooking their arms with mine and blocking me from getting any farther down the hallway. The school’s star football player—some asswad named Eugene Mathers—saunters by, smirking. That’s who toothbrush guy from the other day was. He’s got quite the following around here, I’ve discovered. Dad acts like he’s in love with him. Ugh.
“Where on earth do you think you're going?” they ask as I narrow my eyes, gaze darting around as I search for an escape route.
“You think you can be rude to everyone because you're the headmaster's son?” Micah asks—again, no idea if this really is Micah, but it's just easier to assign a name to each twin.
“You've been rude to everyone since day one,” Tobias adds as their creepy, dark emo friend comes down the hallway.
Ranger.
Yikes.
He comes up beside the twins with his dark hair all in his face, this razored, rock star sort of look. It's got a colored streak in it, too, this royal blue color that gives him a very edgy sort of styling. Add in the eyeliner, and the dark sapphire color of his eyes, and the guy's a bit terrifying.
“You're not fucking my friend over, asshole,” he says, giving me a bit of a shove. The twins release me, if only to see me stumble.
My eyes go wide, and I bite down on the torrent of insults I'd like to throw back at this prick. Once I really get going, that Valley Girl accent will come pouring out, and it'll be game over. Loser emo-vampire douche, I think instead, spinning on my heel and marching in the opposite direction.
“Micah, Tobias,” Ranger says, and the twins are suddenly right there, grabbing onto my arms again. They haul me back and shove me into the locker, pinning me there. They're so close, their arms threatening to brush up against the bindings on my breasts. Ranger walks right up to me as Church leans against the lockers on the opposite side of the hall. “Alright, dickhead. We've been nice to you thus far, but I'm done. You've been rude to every guy at this school. Do you have a problem you want to talk about?”
“You threw me against a locker to talk?” I spit out, a slight growl in my voice. I know I'm just making more trouble for myself, but I honestly don't know what else to do. I'm being cornered, and when I get cornered, I react. “Highly doubt it. Why don't you just punch me and we'll call it even?”
The twins exchange a look over my head, and Ranger glances back at Church.
“Is he for real?” he asks, turning back to me with his sapphire eyes darkened by angry shadows. “You will help Church finish that project, or I'll kick your ass myself.”
“Then kick it because I'm not doing it.” How could I? Hiding my identity during class is hard enough, but spending hours doing one-on-one work with Church and his buddies? Not happening. “I'm going back to California soon anyway.” These last words escape me in a rush, and I hate how pathetic and whiny they sound, like I'm grasping at straws.
“Well thank fuck for that,” Ranger grinds out, grabbing me by the tie. “You're a stuck-up, insufferable asshole. It's no surprise that you grew up in California.” The jerk holding my tie has eyes that are way too pretty for such a mean face. I decide then that he's my least favorite person at that school.
I hate him.
“Shall we show him where the bathroom is?” the twins ask in unison, and Ranger nods, stepping back and releasing me, so that Micah and Tobias can drag me down the hall toward the restrooms. I'm fighting and struggling against them, but holy hell, they're freaking strong.
Micah kicks open the door and the two redheaded asswads drag me in, pushing me into the wide stall at the end of the room.
Tobias opens the lid on the toilet, and the two boys shove me to my knees. I feel like my arms might rip from their sockets. The harder I struggle, the harder they seem to hold on.
“We like MMA fights,” one of the twins says as I make a grunting sound, the muscles in my arms screaming from the effort. “Good luck breaking out of our grip.”
“I'm not afraid of a freaking swirly,” I snap, breathing hard. “Are you sure you're juniors? Because this is some serious middle school bullshit.”
“Maybe. But nobody likes a face full of toilet water,” Micah says as Ranger strides into the stall to stand near the toilet. He glares down at me.
“Last chance, Chuck Carson,” Ranger snaps, grabbing my blond hair in his fist. I grit my teeth, but I'm not about to beg. And I'm not helping with that stupid project. I didn't mean to knock the binder into the water, and I'm not risking my entire secret to help fix it. Although don't you sort of feel like a jerk?
“Dunk her,” Tobias purrs.
“Dunk her,” Micah confirms.
Ranger kicks the toilet seat up, and then shoves my face into it. The water's cold as hell, and even though I hold my breath, some of it goes up my nose. It tastes like freaking chemicals. The twins are still holding my arms, keeping me from struggling too hard as Ranger flushes the toilet, and I gasp for air. It only lasts a few seconds, but when they dump me on my ass on the bathroom floor, I'm sopping wet and coughing, holding my hand to my throat as the three boys watch me impassively from above.
Church is standing in the bathroom, too, leaning against one of the sinks with his hands tucked in the pockets of his navy slacks. He looks disappointed. But he also looks pissed.
“All you had to do was help correct a mistake that you made, Mr. Carson. We weren't asking a lot.”
“Eat shit.” I shove up from my feet and go to push past them. Church steps in front of the door, blocking my escape.
“You can either fall in line and fix that attitude of yours, or we can fix it for you.” I glare at him, toilet water dripping down my face and off my chin. Church steps toward me and lifts a lock of soggy hair from my forehead, smirking at me. It's the first time I've seen him look so … mean. “You don't want to fuck with the Student Council.”
“Really? Because where I come from, we beat up the kids in the Student Council.” I shoulder past him and head out into the hall, making my way back to the dorm and a seriously hot fucking shower.
The Student Council.
Please.
I'm not about to let a bunch of geeky losers intimidate me.
I shower, change into my hoodie and sweats, and go running again. This time, I know exactly where I'm going and end up at the girls' dorm. I've got my phone this time, and a knife I jacked from the cafeteria—just in case. I thought I saw movement when I was here before, but thinking back on it, it might've just been an animal.
There's a bench on the edge of the weed-strewn courtyard that I sit down on, leaning back against the wood and pulling my phone from my pocket. My stomach fills with butterflies when I see a new message from Cody. But then I open it, and find a selfie of him and Monica on the boardwalk, dressed in tanks and shorts, oversized shades, and sun. Glancing up, I notice the little crystalline figures of snowflakes falling from the navy-purple sky.
They get surf, sand, and sea. I get snow and a frigid breeze and a swirly in a men's restroom.
Scrolling through filters, I pick one that makes me look rosy and fresh-faced, and I snap a selfie of my own. It's easier to pretend you're having a good time than admit that everything in your life has gone to hell.
At least, for me it is. This is just temporary. Just temporary.
I exhale, scrolling through social media for a while, but all that does is make me feel more alone, more depressed. It's like life is moving on at warp speed without me. I've only been gone for a month, and yet it feels like years. I miss my friends, my boyfriend, the beach. Just … everything.
The snow starts to come in big fat flakes, and I stand up, brushing some debris off the back of my sweats. There's a gold memorial plaque set into the wood that
says J. Woodruff Memorial Bench. You are so loved. There's a date there, too, from about ten years ago. My brows go up, and I wonder if a teacher or an alumni member died or something.
Whatever.
I head back to the building, climb in the window, and look around with my phone functioning as a flashlight. There's nobody downstairs, just a bunch of locked doors that pique my curiosity. If the seating area is set up the way it is, like it's been trapped in time, then what's inside all of these other rooms?
This is my new hangout spot, for sure. That is, as long as I don't find any creepers in here. We are on school property, and the academy is pretty remote, but that doesn't mean there aren't other students who come here.
I finally gather enough courage to start exploring the upper floors. Doesn't take long. The building's five stories tall, but all the dorm rooms are locked. The bathrooms are open, and I get serious chills when I walk in and find a marble palace that's a near identical clone to the one in the boys' dorm. There are even soaps and shampoos on the wall, covered in dust. Looks like a freaking zombie movie or something.
I hightail it out of there and back down to the first floor, stripping the plastic off one of the couches, and settling down on the cushions. It's quiet here, and at least I feel like I have my own space. If I'm going to feel so alone, I'd rather not be surrounded by people.
It hurts too much that way.
I wake up freezing cold, curled up on the couch in the girls' dorm. My phone is dead, and I have no clue what time it is, but when I push up to my feet and check out the boarded window, I see it's pitch-black out there.
Climbing back outside, I shake off the fatigue and start off toward the boys' dorm. I have to admit, the running path and the woods on either side of it are a hell of a lot creepier in the middle of the night than they were a few hours ago. I curse myself for falling asleep and trudge along the path, feeling miserable and achy from sleeping in a curled up little ball.
When I do finally get back to the dorm, I find the front doors locked.
“No! You're freaking kidding me!” I curse, yanking on the handles and then noticing the sign taped to the outside of the glass.
“Doors are locked at 10 pm sharp. Students who find themselves outside the dormitory at this time should head to the headmaster's quarters. The dormitory doors are reopened at 6 am.”
Great.
Just great.
I turn around and put my back to the glass, debating the merits of trudging all the way up to Dad's place and then having to explain myself versus trying to wait out the sunrise. But my phone is dead, and I have no clue how many hours I have to wait. It's freezing ass cold out here, and to be frank, it's pretty creepy, too.
The woods sway and dance in a breeze that whistles past me like a ghost. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself, watching the darkness for any signs of movement. I tell myself I'm being paranoid, but then I see smoke coming from the trees, and my interest piques even further.
“What the hell …” For a while, I just sit there and watch it, but then curiosity gets the better of me, and I end up pushing off the glass doors and heading toward the trees. I'm no sleuth, but it's easy enough to stay hidden out here. It's so freaking dark, nothing at all like home. Even at night, there are streetlights and cars, restaurants, clubs, bars. Everything is lit and alive. This place is so … dead.
Creeping through the trees, I start to notice the flickering orange of a bonfire, pausing behind a thick trunk to spy on the small group surrounding it. There are three boys there, counting cash out on an overturned wooden crate.
“This is fucking stupid, Spencer,” one of the boys says, standing up from a kneeling position and brushing off the front of his pant legs. It’s that Eugene guy again. “We're over a hundred bucks short. That's not coming out of my cut.”
“Jesus, Eugene, lay off,” the first guy—I guess his name is Spencer—says as he puts a rubber band around some of the money and chucks it at his friend. “Don't be such a pathetic little bitch. I'll absorb the loss. If we go around and start accusing our clients of shortchanging us, then we're not going to have any left.”
“Whatever,” Eugene sneers, tucking the money away. The third dude isn't talking at all, just smoking a cigarette on the edge of the bonfire. They're all wearing third year uniforms, but I don't recognize anyone but Eugene. Not that I would. I haven't spent much time with any of the other students. That is, unless you count the assholes from today.
I move back, and turn to leave, but with my night vision messed up from the light of the fire, I only make it a few feet before I trip over a log and grunt.
The chatter back at the bonfire goes quiet.
“The hell was that?” one of the guys asks as I scramble to my feet, heart racing, and take off as fast as I can through the forest. My breath is panting, face stinging from the slaps of branches. I'm just about to emerge safely onto the running path when a hand grabs me from behind and spins me, slamming my back into a tree trunk.
I groan as pain radiates down my spine, and then grunt as my pursuer puts his forearm against my throat.
“Who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing creeping around on us?” I reach up and curl my fingers around the guy's arm, but he's got muscles that are as hard as rocks. I can barely see him through the darkness. He's pressing so hard, I can feel myself getting lightheaded. I most definitely can't talk to save my life.
As if he can sense that, he releases the pressure just slightly, and I find myself gasping for breath.
Turquoise eyes sparkle at me through the darkness.
“I … got locked out of the dorm,” I whisper, my voice husky and strained. My attacker—I think this is the Spencer guy—lets go of me and I collapse, coughing and holding my throat.
“Wow, you must be new or stupid or both. There's an emergency fire exit in the back that's always open.” I lift my eyes up to look at him as he cocks his head slightly to the side and studies me. “First person out sticks a brick in there to keep it open. It's like an unwritten rule.”
I stand back up, rubbing at my throat and looking warily at this jerk.
“If it's unwritten, then how the hell was I supposed to know about it?” I snap, wondering if I'm brave or stupid for defying some mystery creeper with rock-hard muscles who attacks people in the dark like a goddamn ninja.
“What did you see out here tonight?” he asks me, and there's this cold, quiet menace in his voice that gives me the chills. He's clearly looking for a very specific answer.
“If you leave me alone and promise to not to assault me again, then nothing.” I keep my hand to my throat, and step back in a slight crouch when the guy moves toward me again. I've got the knife in the mini backpack slung over my shoulder. I'm not afraid to use it either.
“You're the new guy, huh? Chuck Carson, the headmaster's son.” The boy smirks. I can barely make out his face, but I could recognize a cocky expression from, like, miles away. There's this aura of arrogance that accompanies it that transcends sight. “You haven't made a lot of friends at Adamson, now have you?”
“Thanks for the tip about the brick. And yeah, I'm sure my neck will be bruised but fine. Good night.” I start off toward the dorm, and the guy lets me go.
“Thanks for stopping by, Chuck,” he says with a little scoff.
And I can't decide if I should be relieved he let me go so easily … or concerned that he thinks he's such a bad ass that I will most definitely keep my mouth shut.
Hmm.
Either way, it’s not good. Not good at all.
The Adamson All-Boys Academy Student Council is proving to be far more of a pain in my ass than I thought. First off, they moved my locker from the first floor of the main building into one of the back buildings where the seniors have all their classes. Essentially, it's the worst possible placement for a locker on the entire campus.
On Monday, I take that decree of theirs and storm up to the Student Council room, intending to tell those pieces of s
hit that they can shove their locker assignment up their ass.
I come up to a huge pair of double doors, and a secretary desk with a fourth year boy on a laptop. My brows go up.
“I need to talk to the assholes in there,” I tell the boy, trying to keep my voice gruff and raspy. He looks up at me like I'm crazy and then squints.
“Do you have an appointment?” he asks me, like we're in some fancy corporate office and not standing outside a freaking faux student government with no real power. I purse my lips and narrow my eyes.
“No. But I just need to pop in for a second.”
“Yeah, not happening,” the boy tells me, looking over something on his screen, and then pausing after a moment like he's surprised I'm still there. He leans over and taps the iPad on the edge of the desk. “Fill that out. There's a calendar that shows availability.” He goes back to his computer, and I squeeze the piece of paper in my right hand until it's all wrinkled.
Just before I accidentally let some bitchy Valley Girl slip, the door behind me opens and in walks a boy in a third year uniform, adjusting his sleeves and strolling past like he owns the place.
He pauses as I glance over at him, those turquoise eyes catching my attention. My mouth drops open as the boy tosses his silver-ash colored hair and smirks at me. It’s almost the same color as Eugene’s, but with darker roots, and a much edgier cut. Yeah, this isn’t Eugene, it’s that Spencer douche.
“Hello there, Charlie,” he says, reaching up to adjust his shiny Student Council pin. He's also got a blue arm band on his left sleeve, and a red one just below it. Uh-oh. I look up at him as he saunters over to me, a feral grin working its way across his face. “Not creeping around the woods today, eh?”
“Takes one to know one,” I blurt, and the guy laughs. My fingers reach up and I subconsciously find myself touching the tender skin of my throat. “So you're a delinquent and a member of the Student Council?”
The Secret Girl Page 3