“What the hell?” I whisper, and then my curiosity gets the better of me, and I end up climbing in to get a look around. The board slams shut behind me when I let go of it, and the sound makes me jump. Shaking off the feeling, I head deeper into the building, surprised to see that the floors look fairly new, and there's not much left that actually needs to be done in here. “Why is this place not being used?”
My voice echoes around the room, emphasizing the strange lack of humanity in a place that should be buzzing with students. Making my way from the living room to the staircase, I see that it spirals up to what looks like a fully finished second story. My hand reaches for the banister when I see a flash of movement from up above.
My heart jumps into my throat, and I feel a surge of panic, my dad's worries overwhelming me. What if a bunch of guys are hanging out in here? What if they find me? I hate living in a shitty misogynistic world where girls can't walk alone, but … it's kind of a reality, isn't it? I shouldn't have to try to avoid being raped—guys shouldn't rape.
But there's the world we should live in, the world we wish we lived in, and then there's the nightmare of reality.
I turn and race for the boarded window, shoving the wood out of the way and climbing out.
My breath huffs out in foggy clouds as I take off for the boys' dorm.
I don't stop running until I get to my room.
Every day at Adamson All-Boys Academy is a slog for me. The other students have quickly learned that I'm not interested in making friends, so they've decided to just ignore me. I sit in the corner in every class and half pay attention, wishing for warm weather and beaches and sunshine, missing Cody and Monica like crazy.
I've been texting them constantly, updating them on every boring fact of my miserable days, but they hardly respond. The most I get is an I'm sorry, babe from Monica or miss ya, when u movin' back? from Cody. I'm starting to feel abandoned here, especially after seeing all the gorgeous beach photos they've been posting on Instagram and Snapchat.
“Are you even going to say sorry for knocking my binder into the pond?” Church asks when I come out of math class and find him standing against the bank of lockers on the opposite side of the hall. He's looking at me like he wants to punch me. “That was a week ago. I've been waiting to see if you'd say anything, anything at all.”
I squeeze my books against my chest and give him a defiant stare.
“It was an accident,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. Do I sound like a girl? I wonder as Church studies me with his gorgeous amber eyes. His hair is a similar color, you might call it honey, and he has a face that looks like it spends most of its time smiling. The frown he's wearing seems … disconnected, but somehow more real.
“That binder had almost a thousand student surveys in it that I'd painstakingly passed out and collected. Now they're all wet, and I can't read a damn thing. You just did undid months of summer work.”
“Maybe you should've done the survey online,” I grind out, struggling to stay standing there with his eyes on me like that. I feel uncomfortable beneath that calculating gaze, like he might look a bit closer at any moment and see right through me. “Like any normal person born outside the stone age might.'
“Seriously?” Church asks, taking another step closer and slamming his palm into the wall beside my head. He looks like he's about ten seconds away from kicking my ass. “The whole project was based on whether students might vote differently given the option of a paper ballot or an online one. And now half that research is gone.”
“Yeah, well, sorry. What do you want me to do about it?” I realize that I'm kind of being an asshole. No, no, I'm definitely being an asshole. But I'm just … nervous as hell. I want to run. Church is standing too close, and he smells like cedar and lotus, maybe a bit of amber and basil in there. Definitely some expensive cologne. Holy crap, he smells good.
“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.