“How do you plead?” the twins purr, pushing back their hoods. The other two boys remove theirs, but it's already quite obvious that Ranger and Spencer are inside.
“We're willing to offer you some amnesty, but first you must repent.” Spencer gives a wolfish grin and crosses his arms over his chest. Ranger just stares at me with unreadable blue eyes.
“Repent?” I breathe, looking at them all like they're crazy. My heart is racing, and my face is streaked with tears, and I'm just so … so … pissed. “You want me to repent? For what?”
“For being the rudest guy in school,” Ranger says, scowling at me and ruffling up his blue-streaked black hair. “You've been standoffish and weird since day one. We're giving you a chance to fix things.”
“You just threw spiders on me!” I sound hysterical, and my voice is just a little too high-pitched to be believable. Spencer's grin fades, and he tilts his head again, turquoise eyes narrowing. Crap, crap, crap, he can tell! I remember his expression when he grabbed my wrist, and I just … panic. “Leave me the fuck alone!” I move forward fast and shove Spencer in the chest with two hands. If he were expecting it, I never would've touched him, but he's so surprised that he ends up stumbling back and slamming the base of his spine into the corner of the counter, knocking several candles over and spattering wax.
“You prick!” he shouts back, launching himself up and at me. Only Ranger stops him from throwing a punch my way. I swing my backpack, hit both twins as they approach, and then duck past them all, going for the dining room door.
It's unlocked this time, and I manage to make it out into the hallway before Spencer catches up to me.
“You are so dead, Chuck!” he shouts after me as I take off toward the staircase. I don't stop running until I get back to my dorm.
I think I only escape because he lets me go.
The thing is: I can’t exactly avoid him forever, now can I?
There's no point in telling Dad about what happened after Culinary Club. He apologizes for not getting my message, telling me he was in a school board meeting. I shrug it off and tell him the janitor let me out, no big deal. If I snitch to Dad about what the Student Council did, I'm going to pit the whole school against me. As of right now, the other boys just avoid me like the plague.
The last thing I want is to be bullied by everyone.
The Student Council is doing a good enough job on their own.
“Chuck, mop the floor,” Ranger demands, putting the handle into my hand. “You can wash all the dishes before you go.”
“That doesn't seem like a very fair division of labor,” I mumble as the twins move up to stand on either side of me, like prison guards. Shoving the mophead into a bucket, I go about cleaning up the giant mess of flour on the floor.
“You missed a spot,” the twins say, smearing their feet through the water and leaving dirty streaks. My nostrils flare, but I don't fight back. I've been fighting for weeks, and today, I'm just tired.
“When you're done there, you can alphabetize these cookbooks on the shelf beneath the window,” Church says as he places a box on the counter, smiling cheerily at me. He's the least mean, and he's always smiling, but when his face shuts down, it's a little dark and scary. He reaches for a cup of coffee and sips it. Pretty sure he’s addicted to the stuff. I rarely see him without a caffeinated drink of some sort in hand.
“Nobody uses cookbooks anymore; it's all online recipes” I grumble, and then I feel a lightness in my pocket. The twins have pilfered my cell. I drop the mop and turn around to grab it from them, but they're stupid-tall, and they toss it effortlessly between them.
“What's on there, Micah?” Tobias asks, grinning as I curl my hands into fists and grit my teeth.
“It's locked, Tobias,” the other twin whines, and then they exchange a look. “Do you think there's a way we might be able to open it? An unconventional way?” Tobias darts around the counter as Micah grabs my arms and holds me back.
“Don't you dare!” I snarl, but Tobias is already grabbing a meat tenderizer from a drawer and laying my phone on a cutting board in front of him. “This I will tell my dad about. He'll freaking destroy you!”
“Your dad?” Church says, folding his arms over the front of his navy blue blazer. “The headmaster who was making pennies in California until he moved here? You think he has real power over us? That's amusing.”
“Give. Me. My. Phone.” My voice is shaking I'm so mad. Tobias looks up at me, emerald eyes darkening with mischief, and then he smashes the screen while the other boys look on bemusedly. “You freaking prick!”
Spencer lifts his shirt up and turns, so that I can see the massive purple and black bruise on the base of his spine.
“Yeah? We're the pricks? I could barely walk the next day. Don't complain while you get your just desserts.” He drops his shirt, storms over to the door, and leaves.
Micah releases me, and I stumble over to pick up the pieces of my phone, thankful that I have my pictures all set to auto-upload to the cloud. But … that doesn't give me my phone back.
My eyes water, but I refuse to cry in front of these jerks, so I take off for the dorm, open my laptop and video-call Cody.
This time, he actually answers.
“Cody!” I chirp when he appears onscreen, the setting sun on his face, and the ocean in the background.
“Hey Charlotte,” he says, blue eyes hidden behind his shades. He lifts them up after a moment and squints at me. “You crying, babe?”
“I hate it here,” I whisper, hearing my voice crack. This is the first time I've let myself break down since I got to Adamson. I have a serious FOMO issue (fear of missing out) and seeing Cody on the beach with a bunch of our friends in the background is killing me. Glancing outside, all I see are red, yellow, and gold leaves, and a few white patches where snow still lingers.
Fuck Connecticut.
“Yeah? I thought it was temporary. When are you coming back? I miss you.” He smiles, and my heart breaks in two. Touching my fingers to the screen, I sigh.
“I'm really trying. Dad's letting me come back for Christmas, at least. I figure I can make my stand when I'm there. He can't exactly force me to get on a plane back, right?”
Last time around, he'd told me he wanted me to come and see the grounds, help him make a choice. He let me bring Monica and make a girls weekend of it, driving our rental car down to New York City for the day. When it came to leave however … only she had a ticket back to California.
Dad tricked me.
“Hey, that's not too far away, right?” he asks, but I can see he's a little distracted. Cody pauses to yell something to his best friend, Dean, before he looks back at me. “Are you going to let your hair grow out? I loved it when it was long.” Suddenly self-conscious, I reach my hands up to touch my short blonde locks. The roots are starting to grow out, too, and are slightly darker than I'd like. I'm a natural sandy blond, but I've always liked that white-blond look.
“It’s … part of my disguise,” I start, but Cody's guffawing at something Monica's just yelled. She jogs across the beach, her lithe runner's body dressed in an edgy blue bikini that just barely covers her nipples.
“Hey, babe!” she shouts, waving enthusiastically before she throws an arm around Cody's neck, and then leans forward to kiss his phone screen. “We miss you so much.”
“Same,” I say with a smile, touching two fingers to the screen again.
“Oh my god, those glasses are hideous!” she says, lifting her shades up to stare at me. “And that hair. Babe, you have nailed that look. Nobody would ever believe you're a girl underneath it all.” I'm not sure if I should be flattered … or offended?
“Thanks?” I ask, blinking as the two of them get distracted calling over some of our other friends. “Guys?”
“Hey, we're here for this beach volleyball thing,” Monica says, dropping her shades back into place. Cody does the same. “Can we call you back later? We're going to Ivy's cabin for the weekend. We'll
have plenty of time to talk between beers.”
“No service up there, cutie,” Cody says, and I frown. His nickname for me has always been cutie. Then again, with his shades on, I can't tell if he's looking at her or at me. Maybe he was talking to me, right? “Anyway, we'll call you before we leave on Friday.”
“Okay,” I start, but they've both already moved on, and I see some flashes of sky and beach before they both call out their goodbyes and hang up.
For a while, I just sit on my bed with my eyes stinging.
My heart feels tight and strange, and there's a sadness sweeping over me that I can't quite place. Finally, I close my laptop, dig through the emergency kit under my bed, and pull out the flashlight.
The bindings come off, and I drown myself in sweats and a hoodie before jogging back to the girls' dorm again.
I get in my usual way and settle down with a book, a soda, and some granola bars I pinched from the cafeteria. Setting my stuff on the coffee table, I notice some spatters of red wax, and some scorch marks, like somebody set candles up here, too.
My first thought is that the Student Council knows I come here, and thought they'd surprise me here, too. But joke’s on them. I haven't been coming for the last week or so. Setting my mouth in a determined line, I settle in with my book—some story about a half-angel who summons ghosts called Spirited—and decide I'm making a stand here.
These guys, they all think I'm a dude. Pretty sure they will beat me up if I push too hard, but I don't care.
So for a while, I read by flashlight. Since I don't have my phone, I have no idea what time it is, and I don't want to get stuck out here too late. After a few chapters, I stand up, gather my things, and then pause to study the class picture that's hanging on the wall.
Across the top, there's the Adamson All-Boys Academy crest with the lion inside the shield. Underneath it, however, it just says Adamson Academy. The all-boys part is missing. Guess the picture is hanging on the wall in the girls' dorm. Maybe they were trying to transition to the new name?
Leaning in, I study the faces in the photo, scanning across the boys until I come to … a girl. My mouth drops open as I lock eyes with her smiling face. She's kneeling in the front row in a pleated blue skirt and blazer, her hair long and dark, bangs straight, cut right across her arched brows. There’s a small key around her neck with a little ribbon tied around it.
I had no idea there ever was a female student in this school. My dad never mentioned it. The way he presented the information, I was supposed to be the first girl to attend Adamson.
“What the hell?” I reach my fingers up and brush them against the girl's face, a frown taking over my lips. I'd wondered why there was a half-finished dormitory, covered in dust, and abandoned like we were living in the Last of Us, but … I never knew they'd actually started accepting women into the academy. “Huh.”
Moving away from the photo, I head back to the window and climb out.
As I'm walking back to the dorm, I hear movement in the bushes and pause, turning the flashlight that direction.
A flash of color catches my attention, and I feel the blood drain from my face.
“Hey!” I shout, but whoever it is takes off running, and I don't get a good look at them. Doesn't mean I don't get chills down my spine, or that I myself don't start running. I don't stop until I'm safely inside the downstairs lounge.
Ranger is there, lying on the couch with headphones on. He narrows his eyes at me as I pass, but I don't care. I flip him off and force myself to walk the rest of the way back to my room.
As I fall asleep that night, I can see that girl's sapphire eyes, staring back at me.
“Dad, you don't understand!” I snap as he moves around the kitchen, sloshing coffee onto the toes of his loafers and cursing. He grabs a wad of paper towels and dabs at them while I desperately try to plead my case. “They broke my phone.”
“Yes, Charlotte, I know,” he says, getting irritated with me. “Church Montague already came by and apologized on behalf of the entire Student Council.”
“He did?” I ask, blinking in surprise.
“He said you guys were horsing around, and that Micah … or was it Tobias? … anyway, one of those McCarthy twins, bumped into you and it fell out of your pocket. He already purchased you a new one.”
My mouth drops open.
“N-no, that's not how it happened at all!” But Dad is beyond late, and has pretty much stopped listening to me. He hands me a box from the kitchen island, and I look down to see a new Samsung.
I had an iPhone.
My mouth purses, and I squeeze the box with tight fingers.
“I had an iPhone, not a Samsung.”
“They're exactly the same,” Dad says, pushing past me and heading for the front door.
“They are not the same,” I grind out. I'm not trying to be a brat, but come on. Church did not get me the wrong phone on accident. “And that's not how the phone got—”
“Charlotte,” Dad snaps, turning around at the front door and giving me a look. The skin around his blue eyes crinkles with frustration. “You've caused enough trouble as it is. Look, Church came and apologized for their part in the incident. Now, have you apologized for yours?”
“Apologize?!” I blurt, curling my hands into fists. “They beat my phone with a meat tenderizer! I'm not apologizing for shit.”
Dad's face crinkles with confusion, but he waves me away with his coffee cup, sloshing more steaming liquid on the floor.
“I'm late, I don't have time for this. Make nice with the Student Council, or you can kiss that ticket to California goodbye.” He turns and leaves the house while I fume behind him. After a minute, I pick up a little glass stag statue that came with the house, and I throw it as hard as I can against the wall. The clean-up after sucks, but that was so, so satisfying.
Make nice with the Student Council? Please.
I'd rather die.
My favorite class of the day is Mr. Murphy's English class. Even though we're juniors, he still reads aloud to us, and he even does the voices. Most of the guys in class snicker about it, but I don't care. When Mr. Murphy talks, I listen with rapt attention. He's not half-bad looking either, I think, admiring him with a different sort of glint in my eye. Well, actually, I notice a few other guys checking him out, too. Ross is one of them. He notices me looking his way and flips me off while Mr. Murphy's face is buried in a copy of The Grapes of Wrath.
Thankfully, he's the only Student Council asshole who's in that class.
That doesn't mean their annoying presence doesn't ruin some of my other classes. The twins are in math with me; Ranger and Spencer are in government; and Church sits directly in front of me in Mandarin. I wanted to take French, but Dad made me switch classes.
At least I don't have to take PE, so I've got an extra period over the other boys.
None of them seem particularly excited about that though.
“It doesn't seem fair that you should get out of a class that everyone knows is a waste of time,” Church says, pausing before me in his PE uniform: a loose white tank, black shorts, and sneakers. There are other boys behind him, and not just the student council jerks.
“Leave me alone,” I snap, gathering up my sketch stuff and rising to my feet. I'm in an art class for my free period, and I'm supposed to be drawing the skyline, but apparently even out here I'm going to get picked on. “You already wrote Micropenis Chuck on my locker today. Isn't that enough for you?”
Several of the guys laugh, but they can make fun of my non-existent dick all they want.
“I've spoken to the headmaster about it, but he says you've got underlying medical issues that keep you from working out.”
“Yeah, exactly. So if you want to tear me down for having medical problems, we can all see what a class act you really are.” Church smiles at me, so cheerful like. He touches his fingers to the side of his face as the sun catches on his hair, turning it this burnished yellow-gold color. His eyes glimmer a ho
ney-brown, and my throat tightens up. I'm in for trouble here, I can sense it.
“Except … I've seen you jogging along the running paths. Multiple times, actually. You seem to have no trouble at all.”
“Leave me alone,” I grind out, but when I go to leave, Church's friends step in front of me.
“Strip him down, put him in the uniform, and we'll see how fast he can run.” Church nods his head, and the other guys approach me, making me feel sick to my stomach. I hesitate for half a second before I start running. In fact, I don't just run, I haul ass. I sprint.
Pounding footsteps sound behind me, but I spent a lot of time back in California helping Monica train for track and field. Plus all the surfing, and my time on the volleyball team … I outrun all the guys and end up stumbling into the library and collapsing on the carpet just past the theft sensors.
I'm sweating all over the place, and I can hardly catch my breath. A few of the boys come in after me, but the librarian—this big, stern older dude that everyone calls Mr. Dave—steps in between them and me.
“No trouble in my library,” he says, his voice this rumbling bear growl that's impossible to ignore. The other boys scowl at me, but they leave, if a bit reluctantly, and I find myself sighing with intense relief. “That means you, too,” Mr. Dave says after a moment, and I glance up to find him staring at me with hard, dark eyes.
“I … no, I won't cause trouble.” I lift up my sketchbook in explanation, and after a moment, Mr. Dave sighs and disappears back behind the counter, leaving me to stand up and brush myself off. Pretty sure I skinned my knees when I fell, but I don't bother to lift up my pant legs and check. Instead, I find a table in plain view of the librarian's desk and put my stuff down.
Since art is my last class of the day, I ignore the ringing of the bell, and keep drawing until the assignment is finished. Now, tomorrow in class, I can read my book instead. I'm so into these reverse harem reads right now, it's ridiculous. It's practically an addiction. Ugh, don’t even get me started on how much I love The Royal Trials series by Tate James.
The Secret Girl Page 5