Still, I’m not exactly a pioneer or an activist or anything. I like surfing all day, collapsing on the beach with a book, and then reading until the boardwalk lights come on. My friends and I would stop and get a seventy-five cent corn dog and a dollar soda, and then walk home while making plans for tomorrow. Every day was an event, always something to look forward to.
But here …
There’s a lot of shouting, greetings called across the cavernous room, and a sea of blazers, cardigans, slacks, and ties. I’m drowning in my navy blue jacket, cream colored tie, and white shirt. I asked for my uniforms to be made about two sizes bigger than they should be. With the jacket hanging off my shoulders, my breasts and hips are swallowed by fabric. I’m totally incognito.
“Hello there.”
Two voices surround me at once, and I jump as a pair of boys sits on either side of me.
Looking between the two of them, it becomes immediately obvious: they’re identical twins.
Super tall, super lean, super handsome identical twins. Uh-oh. My cheeks flame red, and my heart starts to pound. Cute boys are my weakness. Like, I’d make the worst main character in a book because I’d just fall in love with everyone. Okay, so I’d lust after everyone. I’m a bit too skeptical to believe in true love or anything. At least, I don’t right now.
“Micah.” One of them says, extending a hand.
“Tobias.” The other one reaches out to shake with me, but I’m not about to accept an invitation from either. Some stupid, silly part of me thinks that if I take their hands, they’ll know, and I’ll have to get used to every guy in the school staring at me. I’ll be the odd one out by default, the outcast, the pariah.
Snatching my bag, I launch up to my feet, hop over the bench and take off.
The twins are right behind me.
“Are you okay?” they ask, still in unison. It’s seriously creepy. They’re both green-eyed, red-haired, and far too interested in me already. Back in California, I was loud and outgoing. Maybe I wasn’t the most popular girl in school, but Monica was. By proxy, I had plenty of attention, invites to parties, casual friends and acquaintances to hang out with. Here, I need to blend into the background, keep my head down, and ride out this nightmare until I can convince Mom to let me move in with her.
I pick up my walking speed, turn the corner, and then come to a grinding halt as the twins slide in front of me, blocking my path. They both look at me like I’ve sprouted tentacles or something. I look at them like they’re beyond gorgeous, but totally impossible. We will never be friends, despite their handsome faces.
“Does the new kid speak English?” they ask, exchanging a look. Their attention swings back to me, and I can feel that scrutiny like a laser burning into my skin. “Buenos dias. Cómo te llamas?”
Great. Now they’re asking me my name in Spanish.
“Excuse me,” I blurt, using my shoulder to push between them. They’re both tall, and clearly very fit beneath their uniforms. As I squeeze by them and take off down the hall, I can feel that they’re still watching me. Fantastic. I’ve barely made it past breakfast, and I’ve managed to fall on the radar of some weird, but stupidly attractive twins.
Junior year just got interesting.As usual, classes are beyond boring, and by sitting in the back, I manage to squeak past the rest of the day without being overly examined by anyone else. I haven’t seen the twins since math, and even then, they had so many friends creating a shield around them that I was able to hide in the corner.
After school, I make a beeline for my new dorm room, shove my way into the building and bump into a broad chest. Taking a few steps back, I look up and blink the surprise from my face. Even though I practically ran across the lawns, my backpack bobbing, somebody’s made it here before me.
And not just anybody: Church Montague, the student body president.
I know who he is because his stupid, smiling face is on all the brochures. He’s some sort of, like, golden child or something.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Carson,” he says, putting his hands on his hips and looking me over.
Glancing up from under a flop of curly blonde hair, I study him. Church is blond, too, and tall. Crazy tall. He’s got a handsome, smiling face, and a chipper demeanor that immediately puts me on edge. He’s going to want to be friends, and I’m absolutely not interested in making friends with anyone at this school.
There’s a long, awkward pause as Church waits for me to respond.
When he bends down and peers into my face, I swing my backpack around between us and clutch it like a shield.
