Red, orange, and gold leaves swirl around me, and I shiver, tugging my blazer closed a little tighter. It's so damn cold here, cold and crisp and with that bite in the air that says it's getting ready to snow again.
I miss California; I miss the beach; I miss my friends.
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I make my way back to the dorm, trying to ignore the eerie feeling I'm getting. It's Halloween, so it's understandable, and the jack-o-lanterns lining the path don't help much.
The academy is completely bereft of students and staff; I think the only other people who are here besides me and Dad are Nathan, the night watchman, and Eddie, the janitor. Literally, that's it. I'm the only person on campus under age fifty.
Sighing dramatically, I make my way back to my dorm, passing orange and black streamers in the common area and snatching a huge handful of candy from the giant bowl on the coffee table. Monster Mash is playing in the background, and before they all left for greener pastures, one of the boys set up a dry ice machine.
Faux fog swirls around my ankles as I head upstairs to grab my book, my phone, and my laptop before I return to the couch in the main sitting area. For obvious reasons, I never get to sit down here and enjoy the crackling fireplace or the pretty old woodwork on the mantle and walls. Tonight, I may as well take advantage of the big screen TV to watch horror movies.
I pick some generic teen slasher movie that starts off with a sixteen year old girl getting her throat slit, blood spraying everywhere. My nose wrinkles up and my lip curls, but that doesn't stop me from padding into the small kitchenette area and throwing a bag of microwaveable popcorn in. There are snacks and drinks stocked daily in the fridge and cabinets that are available to everyone. On the opposite side of the room, there are shelves filled with labelled goodies that belong to the other students. Taking something that isn't yours is worth a week's detention. I wouldn't even bother, even if I were tempted.
Instead, I make myself happy with about a hundred Reese's peanut butter cups, popcorn, and enough soda that I start to feel sick. Or maybe that's because I've just seen like ten teens get killed onscreen? It’s a lot creepier when you’re sitting alone in a big, dark room with fog crawling across the floor, and an owl hooting outside the window.
I take a break after the first movie to light a bunch of orange and black candles, and then sit back down to start up a supernatural horror fest with sexy werewolves who turn out to be not so sexy when they start eating people.
Fifteen minutes later, the power goes out.
“Oh, come on!” I snap, setting the candy bowl down and standing up. Peeking outside the front door, all I see are swirling leaves and darkness punctuated by a few flickering pumpkins and some of the solar lights that decorate the path. There's no storm, no reason for the power to be out.
I roll my eyes and head back inside, using my cell to call Dad.
“Yes, Chuck, I know that the power's out,” is how he answers the phone, and I roll my eyes. He sounds supremely irritated by something, but I won't ask because he'll never tell me. “Just hang tight, and I'll call you when I know more.”
“Fine.” I sigh, and he hangs up on me.
I close and lock the door, even though I'm not supposed to. I figure if I'm sitting here and someone shows up, I'll just get off the couch and unlock it. Somehow though, what wasn't creepy ten minutes ago is freaking me the hell out now: the fog machine, the ambient Halloween music coming from the dining room, the lack of other students.
Slumping down on the sofa, I do what I do best and elevate my FOMO to new heights by scrolling through social media and looking at all the amazing things my friends in California are doing that I'm not.
Apparently, Monica and Cody dressed as Arya and Gendry from Game of Thrones which I sort of don't appreciate. The character of Arya loses her virginity to Gendry, and while neither Monica nor Cody are virgins, it wouldn't surprise me if something happened between them while I was gone …
No.
No, I can't think like that.
Groaning, I turn my phone off and throw it on the coffee table. Looking at other people having fun is not a smart way to spend my time. All it does is make me sad. Instead, I snuggle up with my Kindle … only to find out that it's dead.
“What an incredible All Hallow's Eve,” I mumble, putting it aside and leaning back into the pillows. I'm just about to doze off when I hear footsteps in the kitchen.
A small zing of terror goes through me, even though I know it's perfectly reasonable that there were a few other students holed up here somewhere. Maybe someone coming down from their room for a snack, or to check on the power situation?
I wait there, my body tensed up, until a large, dark figure fills the doorway between the kitchen and the common area.
“Hi,” I say, because what else am I supposed to do? The person just stands there in the darkness and stares at me. It's seriously creepy. “Can I help you?” I repeat, and they take another step toward me.
Okay, now I'm starting to get creeped out.
“Dude, don't just stand there, it's freaking me out.” I stand up from the couch, fully prepared to grab one of the giant pillar candles and chuck it in this weirdo's face.
He takes another step closer, and my heart begins to thunder in my chest. Cold chills take over me, and my hands begin to shake. I've never been in a situation like this before, but if I have to, I'll die fighting.
A knock on the window behind me makes me scream, and I spin around to find the twins outside the glass, frowning at me. They're both two halves of the same costume: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. And they both look hot as hell in old-fashioned jackets and top hats.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see that the figure's disappeared, so I take advantage of the moment to unlock the door and let them both in.
“You're not supposed to lock the door,” Mr. Hyde says, circling around me and tapping his cane on the hardwood floor.
“It's against the student code of conduct,” Dr. Jekyll adds, his eyes ringed in thick linger as he pauses beside me and leans down with his hands on his hips. “What are you doing in here all alone anyway?”
“I …” I pause again and glance back at the doorway. “There was a man in here just a second ago. He was beyond creepy.” The twins exchange a look and then turn their attentions back to me, each one with a single brow raised. “He was right freaking there!” I point, and Mr. Hyde walks over to the kitchen to look, pulling out his phone and using the flashlight to glance around.
“There are boot prints,” he says, sounding surprised as he glances back at his brother. He—let's pretend this one's Micah—turns his attention to me. “But so what?”
“People are allowed to have boot prints,” Tobias drawls, sauntering past me. But they don't get it. Why should I expect them to? A frown creases my lips as they take over my couch and start eating my food.
“Excuse me,” I snap, forgetting briefly about the creepy guy in the doorway. It was probably just some sulking senior too high to reply to me. At least, I'll feel better if I just keep telling myself that. “I was sitting there.”
“So?” they ask together, turning to look at me with their brows raised again.
“So, that's my stuff, and my food. Get out of here.”
The twins exchange a look, and then turn back to me.
“Make us.” They stick their hands in my popcorn bowl as the power flickers back on. I leap forward and grab the remote before they can get their grubby twin hands on it, and end up being grabbed by both boys. “Give it up,” they say, but I'm clinging to the damn thing like it's a life raft. They got to go to some party while I was stuck here, and I'll be damned if I don't get to finish that werewolf movie.
The popcorn bowl ends up getting knocked onto the floor, and the bastards start to tickle me. I howl with laughter, even though I'm trying my hardest not to.
That's when it hits me.
They're touching me; they'll know.
I jerk back suddenly and end up thr
owing my body off the couch and into the coffee table, hitting my head so hard that I see stars. The twins are up and hauling me to my feet, laying me down on the cushions before the pain even hits me.
When I touch my hand to my forehead, there's blood.
“Rag,” one of the boys says to the other. I have no idea who's who, especially not with my head spinning like crazy. Dr. Jekyll twin rushes off and reappears with a warm rag and a first aid kit.
“I don't need your help,” I tell them, slapping their hands away. Dr. Jekyll just grabs my wrists and holds me still while Mr. Hyde dabs at my face with the washrag and then uses some numbing antiseptic gel before closing the wound with a butterfly bandage.
I'm surprised they're being so … nice to me.
Once they're done, they hand over the remote and then retreat to the big comfy chairs on either side of the coffee table. I'm beyond suspicious, my eyes narrowed to slits, but I turn the move on anyway and we all sit there together in silence and watch.
There's something … cathartic about all that.
So much so that I forget the creepy man in the doorway.
At least for now.
On Monday, I slump into my seat in Mr. Murphy's English class, and suddenly find myself with the beautiful blond teacher standing next to my desk. I sit up suddenly, and straighten out my blazer.
“Good morning, Chuck,” he says, putting my essay down on the desk and giving me this soft, sweet little smile that gives me butterflies. “Great job on the essay, by the way.” He moves off down the aisle while I sit there with flushed cheeks and turn my paper over to see a 98 on the front. Huh. Not bad. Back home, I was used to skating by with a nice, easy C average. This may very well be my first ever A.
Glancing over my shoulder, I try to take in Mr. Murphy's small, tight little ass, and find Ross glaring at me like he owns the man. Dickhead. I flip him off and see his eyes go wide with anger before I turn back around and smother a secret smile, holding onto that joy for the rest of class.
Even though I've done my best to avoid eating in the cafeteria, a girl can only take so much before she gives in to the wonderful smells drifting out the double doors. For the first few weeks I was here, I was starving. Basically, I only ate breakfast if I walked my lazy ass up to Dad's house, and then we had dinner together most nights. He's been absurdly busy lately though, and I'm really getting tired of skipping out on lunch. So I've done it. I've given in.
I keep my head down when I push into the cafeteria, grabbing a tray and trying not to roll my eyes at the tables full of food. It's not at all like a normal cafeteria. No, these rich assholes look like they're getting a fancy wedding catered every day. There are shrimp dishes, steak dishes, desserts that I can't even pronounce.
By the time I sit down with a full tray, I'm pretty certain I have over a hundred dollars in food. How have I let myself miss out on this?! I think as I cut into the steak and groan. It's perfectly medium-rare on the inside, steakhouse level perfection.
Sitting alone in the back corner, I'm pretty confident that I'll be left alone. I've done a damn good job of making sure everyone at this school hates me. I pause with a bite of goat cheese mashed potatoes halfway to my mouth and feel a wave of sadness wash over me. Back home, I have heaps of friends waiting. Here … I have no one. At first, my new loner status didn't bother me, but I think all the isolation's starting to wear on my nerves.
I set my spoon down and close my eyes, pulling in a long, deep breath before I open them again. When I do, I jump, because there the twins are just suddenly there, sitting on either side of me.
“What do you want?” I ask as they both prop their heads on their hands, elbows balanced on the table.
“Spencer says you're gay,” they tell me in unison, and I shrug.
“So?” I pick up my glass of cranberry juice, with the giant round ball of ice, and the fresh cranberry and mint springs on the side (it seriously looks like a fancy cocktail) and take a sip.
“Is that why you've been such an ass?” Micah asks, staring at me with lazy eyes. His full mouth curves up into a smirk.
“Is it?” Tobias repeats, and when I glance back at him, I find the exact same facial expression on his face. They both have this burnt red-orange hair that sort of sticks up as it pleases in little tufted spikes. It looks accidental, but I know better. They each spend about an hour in the bathroom every morning. Not sure why, considering there aren't any girls here to impress. Well, not that they know of.
“I'm …” I don't know what else to say, so I just shrug again. “Yeah, I like guys. I told Spencer that. It doesn't mean I like him, so can you just leave me alone?” The twins exchange a look before turning their attention back to me.
“How's your head?” they ask, once again in unison. I wish I knew how they did it, all of that perfect cohesiveness. Reaching tentative fingers up, I touch the side of my head and shrug. It still hurts, but it's gotten a hell of a lot better.
“It's fine.” I stand up because I don't like the way they're both staring at me, and I leave my tray where it is. That's how it works here: there's always somebody else to clean up after you. There's actually no place to put the used trays; it's just expected to leave it for an employee. It's not a lifestyle I'm used to. Not even sure I'm comfortable with it.
The twins let me go, but that's not the last time I see them that week.
On Friday, I do my usual thing, counting down the days to the November break while I sit on the sofa in the abandoned girls' dorm, looking through the pictures from the old yearbooks that I saved on my phone. I've taken the class photo off the wall, too, and it's sitting next to me on the coffee table.
I'm determined to find out what happened to this girl, and why nobody's talking about her, why my dad didn't even mention her. I brought her up at dinner last week, but Dad barely acknowledged me. He didn't even look up from his tablet or put down the spoonful of peas he was holding midair. He told me had no idea what I was talking about, that I was the first girl to ever attend Adamson, and then when he finally did look my way with crinkled brows, his only question was on where I'd seen the class photo in the first place.
A noise outside gives me pause, and I turn the screen on my phone off, leaning over to blow out the black pillar candle that I pilfered from the common area on Halloween. The room plunges into darkness and I sit there as still and quiet as I can. Wouldn't be the first false alarm I've had. Last time, a tiny pair of eyes appeared from a hole in the wall and an opossum hissed at me before retreating.
After a moment of silence, I reach out to grab my lighter when the front door swings open and two figures waltz in. My first instinct is to scramble off the couch and reach for one of the old bricks I found outside and brought in as a weapon. If I have to, I will smash some creeper upside the head with it.
One of the figures flicks on a flashlight and shines the beam right in my face as I hold up a hand to shield my eyes.
“What the hell?” I ask before the light drops down, and I blink through the darkness. One of the McCarthy twins holds the beam up to his own face and smiles wickedly at me.
My heart drops and I feel a deep frown etch itself into my lips.
No! This is my spot, my sanctuary. I hold back a curse and set the brick back on the coffee table, grabbing the lighter and holding it to the candle wick until we're standing in a warm glow.
“What do you two want?” I ask as they exchange a look and move into the living room area, taking up my valuable personal space. One of them—let's call him Micah—picks up the class photo and studies it for a moment.
“You shouldn't be digging into this,” he says, exchanging a look with his brother. They both turn their emerald eyes back to me, studying my face. They've been following me around all week. I want to know what they're up to. Or what they think I'm up to.
“Why not?” I ask, feeling defiant as I grab the painting, my notebook, and my phone, taking up a new position on one of the other chairs in the room. Before I get a chance
to grab my pretzels or the six pack of soda I brought with me, the twins are digging into it, and I'm groaning. “Please leave me and my food alone, don't you haunt me enough as it is?”
“This is Ranger's sister, Jenica,” one of the twins says, and the other gives his brother a look, like maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all. One of my brows goes up. That's the first time I've ever heard them disagree on anything. They barely speak separate sentences, let alone have separate opinions.
“Yeah, so you said,” I reply, sneaking the last unopened soda away from them and cracking the top. The last thing I want is for them to stay here, but I figure if I make a big deal over it, they'll come back more often, just to piss me off. “Why is she such a ghost?”
They both turn back to me then with raised brows and slightly wide gazes, like I've just said something alarming.
I pull the soda can away from my lips and cock a brow of my own, pausing to push my glasses up with my middle finger. The long sleeves of my hoodie fall low and cover up my hands.
“Wait, is she … she's not dead, is she? I just meant she's got no online presence, no photos on Ranger's social media, or his mom's or—”
“She killed herself,” Tobias says—I think he was the one that spilled the beans about Jenica's name. Micah narrows his green eyes and elbows his brother in the side, but Tobias isn't done. “That's the story anyway. And Ranger's mother is a devout Catholic. She's ashamed. She thinks Jenica went to hell.”
Wow.
“Please shut up,” Micah whispers, giving Tobias a dark look. “You 're going to get us both killed by Ranger.”
“So Ranger's ashamed of his sister, too?” I ask, thinking how sad that is. If the girl really did commit suicide, she was clearly suffering. And then for her family to posthumously abandon her? Fuck.
“No, he thinks she was murdered,” Tobias blurts, and then his brother really does elbow him in the stomach. They both curl their lips up in matching snarls, and then lean in so close their foreheads almost touch. “He has a right to know.”
The Secret Girl Page 7