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“It's not safe here, Charlotte,” Dad finally says, and I cock an eyebrow.
“I thought that Eugene and Jenica died by suicide,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest. Dad ignores that comment, pulling his glasses off and setting them on the table.
“It's not that,” he says with a sigh, but I can't tell if he's lying to me again or if he's just really fucking tired. I guess having a kid commit suicide on your watch doesn't a good headmaster make, huh? I almost feel sorry for him.
“Then what is it?” I plead, putting my palms on the table and leaning down. “Do you not want me here? Is that it?” My voice cracks a little, and I realize that even though I haven't admitted it to myself, I'm upset about this part of the equation, too. It's been me and Dad against the world for so long, and now he's just done with me? I just get shipped across the country like an unwanted package?
“Of course I want you here,” he says, but he's already standing up and stacking his cutlery on top of his plate. “But circumstances have changed.”
“What circumstances?” I demand, following after him into the kitchen. One of the windows is open, letting in a cool spring breeze. It tousles my hair as I make a stand behind my father, waiting until he's done rinsing his plate and sticking it in the dishwasher so that he'll turn around and face me.
“You were right all along: you shouldn't have to be the academy's guinea pig. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to the other students. I've gotten numerous complaints about you lashing out.” My mouth drops open. Pretty sure my jaw is just hanging loosely on the bottom of my face. “That, and many students see my treatment of you as blatant favoritism.”
“How so?! You're harder on me than anyone else.” The words just burst from my lips unbidden, but once they're out there, I can't take them back. I wouldn't anyway, considering they're true. That's always been one of my problems with my dad: he's twice as hard on me as any student he’s ever taught. I'm sick of it.
“The private room,” he begins, and I step forward.
“I'll share with Spencer Hargrove,” I blurt, and Dad sighs. “He doesn't have a roommate anymore.” I lick my lips again, doing my best to control my usually unruly temperature. In all of this, Dad’s never once asked me what I wanted to chat about. He literally doesn’t care. Well, fuck him then, I’m not telling him anything. “Problem solved.”
“Not just that. There's the PE situation—”
“I'll do PE. I'll just dress down in a stall, and double up on the sports bras. Okay, keep going. Let's figure this out.” I exhale, but Dad isn't smiling. He's clearly not buying what I'm selling.
“Charlotte, that's enough.” His tone brooks no argument, but I can't help myself. I follow him into his office.
“Keep being honest with me about the problems, and we'll figure out the solutions.”
“I have a lot of work to catch up on, and I'm sorry, but my decision is final.” He sits down at his desk, and I feel the urge to scream welling up inside of me. Instead, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and turn around, taking off and slamming his office door behind me.
I'm not done just yet, but I know my dad, and he's put up a wall for the night. Tomorrow, I'll try again.
As I pass by the kitchen window, I notice that the screen is missing and there's a small stone sitting on the sill. I might not have noticed it if I hadn't stopped to get a glass of water. I reach out and take hold of it, examining the smooth, matte black surface. There's a symbol carved into it, and painted over with red.
“What the hell?” I ask, looking up and staring out at the darkness. One of those damn owls hoots again, and I shiver. For a second there, I consider going in and telling my dad about it, but he already wants me to leave. I'm not going to convince him otherwise if I add fuel to the fire.
But the stone, and the missing screen, are creepy as hell. It could just be some random prank, but I feel like drawing a penis on the lawn in spray paint or something would be more high school dude appropriate. Putting a creepy stone with a weird symbol on somebody's windowsill?
That's next level fucked-up.
I shut the window, lock it, and then text the guys.
This is too weird to be a coincidence.
Something strange is happening at Adamson, and I get the awful feeling that as much as I want to stay … maybe Ranger’s right about me leaving?
I’m being hunted here.
I can feel it.
“This isn't paint, it's wax,” Micah remarks, rubbing his thumb over the symbol carved in the stone. He picks at it with his fingernail and it comes up in little curls. “Yep, definitely wax.” He hands it over to Tobias, so he can take his own turn examining it.
“Wax?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair. It's so curly and knotted and gross right now. I meant to get up early and shower, but I slept in and ended up waking up to Dad throwing my covers on the floor and barking orders. So unpleasant.
Spencer is staring at me like I'm something out of a horror movie. I narrow my eyes on him and push my glasses up my nose.
“What?” I snap, as Tobias passes the stone to Ranger next. “You've been staring at me all morning.”
“Can you even see out of those glasses?” he asks, leaning forward and snatching them from my face. “They're literally coated in fingerprints and spatters of god-knows-what.” He starts cleaning them off on his shirt as I frown. “And have you ever heard of a hairbrush? They were invented in 1602, you know.”
“First off, you totally made up that number. That's not at all accurate. And also, fuck you.” I let Spencer clean my glasses and then snatch them back, shoving them on my face and trying not to marvel at how much better it actually is to have them clean.
“Even in that oversized uniform with the rat's nest hair, and the dirty glasses, you've given him a hard-on.” Church points at Spencer matter-of-factly before taking the stone in his hand. “He literally got a boner the first second he saw you.”
“I did not,” Spencer scoffs, looking around for any lurking staff members before he lights up a joint. “Blatant lie.”
“Then stand up and let me see,” I retort, taking the joint from him and inhaling. I end up coughing like crazy, and Spencer laughs at me.
“Noob,” he murmurs, and I narrow my eyes.
“Boner wizard,” I retort, and Spencer howls with laughter. Even the twins chuckle. Ranger seems a little freaked-out by the stone, and Church is too busy turning it over in his long-fingered hands.
“Boner wizard sounds pretty cool, actually. I'll take it. Sounds like a compliment to me. Thanks, toilet brush.”
I lunge over at him and end up in his lap, shoving his book bag onto the floor and then pointing at the bulge in his academy-issued slacks.
“The truth comes out,” I say, my face a scant three inches from his. It's too much, that scent of his, this woody cedar and lotus blend that makes my mouth water. I might have to ask what cologne he wears because I'm totally buying some and spraying my pillow with it.
I mean, not because Spencer wears it or anything … I just like the smell.
Yep, that's all there is to it.
“You really want the truth to come out?” he teases, raising a dark brow. The seductive curve of his mouth does all sorts of horrible things to me, and I shiver. When I go to beat a hasty retreat however, he grabs on and holds me there, pressing his mouth hard against mine.
Heat races through me, and I shiver. There's something about the taste of this boy's mouth …
“Aww, look, Spencer's gone gay,” a passing student says, and his friends snicker. “But seriously man, there are way hotter guys here if you want a taste.” The dude grabs his junk and Spencer flips him off, grabbing onto the back of my head to stop me from ending our kiss. Part of me is embarrassed to be seen smacking lips with Spencer Hargrove, and the other half … loves it.
“Come on, man,” Tobias grumbles, and we pull apart. Our eyes meet, and a shiver travels through me that has nothing to do with the weather. I glance ove
r and find the twins watching us. Micah smirks, like he's scented a challenge, while Tobias frowns.
“This symbol looks so familiar,” Ranger grumbles as Church takes a picture with his phone and does a reverse image search. He narrows his eyes as he scrolls through photos. “I swear I've seen it somewhere before.” Ranger reaches up and puts his fingers to his forehead, sapphire eyes watching the woods just beyond the path.
We're sitting outside on a cluster of large, decorative rocks near the sign that directs students to the academy's main building. You'd think they were just, you know, rocks, but dad said he had to approve a landscaping bill for several thousand dollars to have them delivered.
We figured we may as well enjoy them.
“Nothing's coming up for me,” Church says, backing out of the page he's on and typing in a description of the symbol into a search engine. W-shaped rune is what he taps out. Not bad. It looks a bit like a trident to me. “It’s a little like the Greek letter psi, or maybe even the old Norse rune algiz.”
I back up off of Spencer's lap, and leave his, uh, boner to deal with later.
He watches me go and then takes a bite of a green apple, eyes taking me in as I sit back down on my own rock. I can still hardly believe he's back, that he's alive. That we’re dating, all official like. I wonder how long it'll take to really sink in.
“Okay, but if it is either of those things, what's the point?” Spencer asks, pausing to take another bite of his apple. “A Greek letter? A Norse rune? What the hell does any of that have to do with Jenica or Chuck or Eugene, for that matter?”
“Maybe it doesn't mean anything?” Micah says, taking the rock back and studying it. “Maybe we're reading too much into this? Obviously some old money assholes didn't want Jenica attending their precious boys' school, and it's the same with Charlotte.” He goes to toss the rock and Ranger stops him, snatching his wrist and taking the stone back.
“I've seen this before. I don't remember where, but give me some time and I'll figure it out.” He stands up, this big, dark figure with razored black hair and the most intense blue eyes I've ever seen, and then he spins around with an expression so serious I almost recoil. “Now get up. We're making a Baked Alaska for Eugene's memorial tomorrow.”
Ranger turns and takes off toward the academy, and the rest of us exchange looks.
“He's not going to strip down and wear one of his fluffy aprons, is he?” I ask, and Micah smirks.
“He just might. Why? Did you want to see?'
Spencer makes a scoffing sound under his breath as I stand up and stretch my arms over my head, yawning. When he rises to his feet, towering over me with a smile, I feel my heart start to thump. His turquoise eyes sparkle as he leans in close and puts his cheek near mine, lips brushing up against my ear.
“Let's hang out together, just you and me. You know, after Culinary Club.”
“Spencer,” I start, but then the twins are grabbing him by the arms and dragging him down the path. I bite my lower lip as I think about what Tobias said to me in the closet the other night.
“I wasn't going to say anything out of respect for Spencer, but I kind of have a crush on Charlotte. When he comes back, he might have to fight me for her affections.”
Wow.
I twist my hands together and follow after the boys, heading up the stone steps in the academy building to the kitchen where we always have our club meetings. Hard to believe these asswads dressed in robes and threw spiders on me just a few months ago, huh?
“What the fuck is this?” Ranger's demanding, pointing at a pound cake that's sitting in a plastic container on the counter. He looks furious. “Who brought this here?” The twins exchange a look, and then shrug.
“Dude, it's just a pound cake,” Spencer says, but Ranger's already grabbing it and tossing the whole thing into the trash.
“Store bought garbage,” he murmurs, opening one of the drawers and withdrawing a whole host of utensils. “We'll make the pound cake from scratch.”
Church exchanges a look with the twins as Spencer raises his eyebrow. After about a minute of slamming things around and cursing, Ranger plants his palms on the countertop and closes his eyes tight.
“Are you okay?” Church asks softly, in just such a way that I can hear his true affection for his friend in his voice.
“I want to make this dessert the right way,” Ranger says, his voice low and grumbling, but thick with emotion. The sound of it makes my chest feel tight, and I squeeze my hand into a fist on the edge of my blazer. “This was Eugene's favorite food, and I'm not going to fuck it up.”
“A Baked Alaska was his favorite food?” Spencer asks, and Ranger's blue eyes snap open, glaring in his direction. I swear he growls a little.
“Show some respect. We thought that was you in that tree; we were devastated. Imagine how his friends and family feel.” Ranger stands up straight and then runs the fingers of both hands through his razored hair. “There's some part of me that feels responsible for his death. I just want to do this one thing right.”
There's a long stretch of silence before Church whips off his blazer and tosses it onto the chair in the corner, pushing up his shirtsleeves and removing his tie.
“Alright, let's do this then, Culinary Club style.”
The door opens and Ross slips in, face flushed, straightening his own tie out.
“Sorry, I'm late,” he says, and Church smiles.
“Let's make some coffee, and bake a pound cake, shall we?”
“Thank you,” Ranger says, and I don't think any of us misses the way his shoulders relax.
I hate that he feels responsible for Eugene's death. None of us should. But somehow we're involved in a mess we didn't start, and now have to clean up. Ranger's right though: Eugene might've been a douche to us, but I'm sure he wasn't to everyone. He has people that care, too.
“Well, damn, let's make a Baked Alaska then,” Spencer murmurs, and then Ranger whips out the frilly aprons. This shit is on.
“You seriously fucked that Baked Alaska up, Chuck.” Spencer rolls onto his side to look at me. I’m sitting on the edge of his bed, breathing hard, and desperately wishing I’d caked on the deodorant this morning; I’m sweating like crazy. “I’ve never seen anyone fail to follow directions quite the way you do.”
“I was nervous!” I snap, spinning to look at him. He’s lounging on the bed like a boneless prince. Shit, he’s hot. I bite my lower lip and instantly forgive him for being a total jerk. I’m terrible like that. Never believed in true love, no, but had a crush on every boy? Yep, that’s pretty much me. “Ranger’s terrifying when he cooks.”
“I cook with pure love,” he growls, drawing my attention back to that side of the room. Ranger’s dressed in black sweats, a tight white shirt that shows off the hardened points of his nipples, and … socks with pink cats on them. I decide not to comment. “Pure fucking love.”
“You put a scoop of ice cream down the back of my shirt,” I grumble, and Ranger’s mouth twitches with a smile that he forces back down again.
“That was the twins, not me,” he admits, looking up at Spencer and me. His eyes narrow slightly, and he sighs. “I'm totally cramping your style, aren't I?”
“Pretty much. The boner wizard can't operate when the cock blocker's in the room. That's a well-known fucking fact,” Spencer says, smirking, and my cheeks heat. The sudden rush of embarrassment makes me want to stay obstinate.
“I'm personally glad that Ranger's in here,” I retort, pushing my glasses up my nose and crossing my arms over the chest of the t-shirt I borrowed from Spencer (my white academy-issued button-down is now dyed pink with strawberry ice cream). “It's safer with three of us, and all that.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” Spencer purrs, tickling his fingers up my spine and sending little shivers through me. I whip an angry look over my shoulder, and he smirks. “What? Don't tell me you don't feel it.”
“Feel what?” I retort, even though I'm basically taking the reins of embarr
assment and leading it straight toward me.
“The sexual tension between us,” Spencer blurts, and I grab the book from his nightstand and smack him with it. He steals it from my hand, grabs me by the wrists and drags me toward him, pinning me underneath him. His silver hair hangs down around the sides of his face, and his grin is truly feral. “Come on, don't lie to me. You guys already spent that token at the arcade of bullshit.”
“Wow, lovely metaphor,” Ranger murmurs, leaning back into his pillows and crossing his kitty-cat covered socks at the ankles. He looks so bad-ass with the big, black plugs in his ears, his shiny raven hair with the sapphire streak … and his pussycat footwear. Right. “Like you've ever been to an arcade. Spencer's obsessed with the nineties, by the way, like wishes he was a nineties' kid.”
I look back at the boy above me, and his grin softens slightly. I pretend to frown, but really, my heart is pounding and I'm sort of wishing that Ranger would find something to do in Church's room.
A long, tense moment passes, and my heartbeat picks up, the blood rushing in my head drowning out the sounds around me.
Spencer groans, and sits back on his heels, giving Ranger a look.
“You're seriously going to just sit there and watch?”
Ranger glances up at him, pulling his gaze from the screen of his phone.
“Watch what? You're not fucking with me in here again. Taking a hard pass on that one, my friend.”
“Then get out! Go see Church,” Spencer mumbles, swinging his hand toward the door for emphasis. “You two can get gay together, and everybody wins.”
“If I weren't straight, that'd be lovely, I'm sure.” Ranger keeps scrolling on his phone. “Have you seen the way Church sucks on straws? I'm sure he's brilliant with dick, too.”
“Is Church gay?” I ask, sitting up and trying not to wiggle. My body feels hot and rebellious, my fingers itching to touch Spencer. We've had a handful of kisses this week, but it's now Thursday night, and I can't stop daydreaming about him holding me in his arms. And, you know, doing other things …
“Bi, maybe?” Spencer muses, and then shrugs his shoulders. “No idea. He definitely dates girls though.” He pulls his own phone from his blazer pocket, taps out a message with his thumbs, and checks it before glancing up with a sideways smirk. “Come on, Micropenis Chuck, I have an idea.”