Page 108 of The Ruthless Boys (Adamson All-Boys Academy 2)
I swipe my palms down the front of my Adamson blazer, my glasses parked firmly on my face, my newly shorn hair a tousled mess. Chuck the Micropenis is back! Although … maybe I shouldn’t be calling myself Chuck the Micropenis, huh? Maybe something more interesting like, Chuck the Undefeated. No, no, that’s lame, too.
“It does to someone who’s trapped in a place they no longer belong,” I hedge, and then sigh as Dad grabs one of my suitcases and storms toward the house. I suppose it’s too soon to ask if I can move back to the dorms. Yeah, definitely too soon. “And our engagement isn’t fake, we’re in love.” I choke on the words as I say them, but that’s the ruse, so that’s what I have to stick with. Chuck and Church, together forever.
“Sure you are,” Dad says, clomping up the steps and practically throwing my bag into the room. He whirls on me so quickly that I startle, backing up into the wall behind me. “Did it ever occur to you that, as your father, I have only your best interests in mind? That perhaps there was a reason I sent you away in the first place?”
“If there was, you could’ve told me,” I snap back, getting flustered. I may have gotten my way overall, but Archie is going to make each day a living nightmare, a new fight to be won. That much I can promise. “You can still tell me, and if the reason’s valid enough, then maybe I’ll leave willingly?” Doubtful, but there’s a slim chance.
“I hope you’re excited about the school trip,” is what he throws back at me, “considering its locale.”
“What school trip?” I ask, vaguely remembering the guys saying something about a senior getaway for the first week of school. That’s about all I know.
“The senior class at Adamson is off to a hot springs lodge for the week. I’ll see what I can do to make you comfortable, but you clearly won’t be swimming in the pools.” Dad gives me a look, like he’s so disgusted with me he can barely stand it. “I’d keep you home, but I don’t think that’s best for either of us right now. Besides, you’re the one that wanted to be here, so you’ll participate in all the school activities—including PE. I’m not making exceptions for you anymore, Charlotte.” Now that we’re inside, he uses my real name and somehow, it’s ten times scarier than hearing him say Chuck. “Gather your things. You have class tomorrow, and the buses leave on Tuesday.”
He storms out of my room, breezing past me down the hall to slam his door.
For a brief moment, I’m uncomfortable. But that’s about as far as the negatives go. Then I look up and realize that we did it, that I’m back where I’m supposed to be. A grin splits my face, and I step into the room, close the door, and turn on some music before I flop onto my bed and squeal.
Hell. Freaking. Yes.
If Dad thinks sending me on some hot springs trip with my friends is a punishment, he’s got another thing coming.
This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
And maybe, also, the worst.
I just don’t know that yet.The first day of senior year holds a certain magic to it, this final hurrah if you will. As I step into the halls in my crisp, new uniform, the Student Council pin on my blazer, I’m flying about as high as I did that day in Disneyland.
“Hey Chuck the Micropenis,” Mark sneers as he walks by and hits me in the side with his elbow. If he at all recognizes me from Church’s parents’ party, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he just saunters past with his asshole friends while I frown after him.
“Want us to beat him up?” the twins ask, appearing on either side of me. And since it’s been weeks since I last saw them, I give them each a huge hug. Also, can I just say that I’d forgotten how goddamn good they look in their academy uniforms? Navy blazer and slacks, white button-down, champagne colored tie. Ugh. I can’t get enough.
“Not presently,” I say, straightening my own tie out and grinning at them. “I’m more focused on the fact that we only have one day of class before we get a school-sanctioned trip.”
“The seniors go every year,” Tobias says, nodding and then reaching up to ruffle his red-orange hair. “It’s some hot springs place in North Carolina, but it’s run by a Japanese woman. I have to say, based on the pictures, it looks pretty authentic.”
“You’ve been to Japan?” I ask, and the twins both shrug.
“Plenty of times,” they say, just before Spencer appears in the doorway, stabbing out a cigarette on the edge of a trash can and chucking the butt before Mr. Johansen catches him smoking.
