Page 13 of The Secret Girl (Adamson All-Boys Academy 1)
“I second the motion,” Ranger replies, frowning so hard I expect his lips to get stuck in his awful, ugly expression. He reaches up and tugs on the big black plug in his earlobe. He's got one on either side, and a handful of silver hoops on his right. Emo loser asshole, I think as I frown.
“You can't do that,” I spit, because this whole super powerful Student Council thing is not real. It's just a dumb TV trope that's in too much manga and anime. They can't actually punish me. Back home in California, they could barely manage to get organic vegetables on the school lunch menu.
“Can't we?” Spencer asks, speaking us as the twins chuckle on either side of the table. “Your father said we could punish you however we saw fit, for failing to help fix Church's project.” My mouth drops open. True, Dad and I have barely spoken a word to each other in the last two weeks, but you think he'd mention this? “I third the motion.”
“Agreed,” the twins say together, leaning their elbows on the table and grinning at me.
“The motion passes,” Church says, nodding his chin in Micah's—or Tobias', whatever—direction. “Make a note of it and have the headmaster sign off.”
The twin on the right, with the Secretary sign, gets to work tapping away on his laptop.
“Now, get out of the Council Room before I start adding days onto your detention,” Church says, clearly the leader of the group. Makes me wonder because he seems much less alpha than either Spencer or Ranger. “We haven't quite decided on the full terms of your punishment, but the more I look at you, the worse I want it to be.” He lifts up a mug of coffee and takes a long sip, sighing in pleasure.
“He's so short and puny,” Tobias whines, laying his body across the surface of the table. “Can't we just beat him up?”
“Yes, please,” Micah groans, pausing his typing for a moment to look me over with no small amount of distaste. “Can we please? I bet he goes down with one punch.”
My nostrils flare, and my hands curl into fists at my sides.
“I want my locker moved back to the main building,” I grind out, refusing to be intimidated by these jerkwads. For a brief moment, I forget I'm supposed to be hiding in shadows and making things easy for myself. I should be out of here soon. I just … need to work on Dad some more. I wish my birthday were sooner, I think, already pining for December of senior year. I'll be eighteen then; I can make my own choices.
“You can repeat yourself however many times you want,” Church says cheerfully, rising to his feet and tossing honeyed hair from his forehead. He's still smiling, but it's honestly a little creepy because it's so damn cheerful. I feel like I might need to shield my eyes or something. “That won't get us to move your locker back. And it won't stop us from making your life a living hell.” He moves around the side of the table to stand in front of me. “Now please excuse yourself before I have Spencer do it for you.”
My throat burns in memory, and I find my fingers reaching up to touch it without meaning to. Spencer notices and grins like a fox, this cunning, predatory little smile that makes me cringe.
“Tick-tock, Mr. Carson,” Spencer purrs, and the twins stand up in unison, crossing their arms over their lean, muscular chests. “Now, shoo.”
Ranger narrows his sapphire blue eyes on me, and I grit my teeth in frustration. Do I really think the five of them might beat me up if I stay standing here? Yes, yes, I do. They think I'm a boy. The spoiled, rotten son of the headmaster. I haven't made a very good impression, now have I?
Spinning on my heel, I take off and storm out the door, heading back to my room to change before I jog down to the girls' dorm again. This time, I set an alarm in case I fall asleep. When I text Monica and Cody, asking for a video chat, they both look at the messages and then ignore me.
Damn if I don't feel empty and alone that night.
So empty and so alone …The Student Council sends me to detention, after-school janitor duty, and then to put a cherry on top of my crap sundae, they force me to join their student club, so they can needle me every Tuesday and Thursday after class.
“Oh no,” the twins groan, standing on either side of me. I've been dressed in a white chef's hat and an apron that says Junior Cook. I feel fucking humiliated in it, but it's the 'uniform', and Dad warned me that if he got any reports of my being ornery, he'd cancel my Christmas break trip to California.
