Page 111 of The Ruthless Boys (Adamson All-Boys Academy 2)
“We’ll correct that one day,” Church says, and the twins nod, sipping their tea in perfect unison, dressed as a matching pair in black and white yukatas with red ties. “Maybe in November, if your father will let you go?”
“Doubtful, and also, you’re assuming we’ll even survive until November. We might not, if we don’t solve our little murder mystery issue.”
“Mr. Murphy’s been carrying that knapsack since we got here,” Ranger says, and I have to suppress an involuntary shiver at the sound of his voice. He’s been speaking so little to me that it’s like hearing his voice for the first time all over again. “Do you see anybody else with their luggage in here? He’s up to something.”
“Let’s steal that shit tonight then,” Spencer says, glancing over at the teacher’s table. “It can’t be that hard. Have you noticed that none of the doors have locks? And even if they did, I could kick one of these screen doors down in my sleep.”
“Not tonight,” Ranger suggests, his own yukata and tie a solid black. “We have a week here. Let’s give him a night or two to chill out, maybe forget his knapsack during a soak or something. In the meantime, we can always follow him, see if he’s up to anything suspicious.”
“And Mr. Dave,” I add, cringing as Mark’s raucous laughter sounds from the opposite side of the room. I’d like to deal with him, too, but one suspect at a time. Or … in this case, two. But two suspects with strong evidence against them. Besides, Mark is basically just a dick who had a hole in his ceiling. Maybe once we figure out what’s going on with the two teachers, we’ll have a better idea of what students, if any, we should be looking into.
“So Mr. Dave and Mr. Murphy, huh?” Spencer says, and we all glance surreptitiously in their direction. Everything looks fine, normal, good even. But that’s how bad people get away with what they do, right? They pretend.
I’m just not expecting to find another pretender in our midst, someone I’d never have expected, that I didn’t want to expect.That night, the guys and I dress in black and split into two groups: Church, Ranger, and Spencer in one, and me with the twins in the other. They trail Mr. Murphy while we go after Mr. Dave.
Suffice it to say, both men are boring as fuck.
Well, other than the fact that Mr. Murphy fell asleep with his knapsack as a pillow. That’s a little weird, right?
“What a waste of a perfectly good soaking night,” Spencer says, head in his hand as he yawns at breakfast the next morning. The white yukata he’s wearing goes perfectly with his silver hair and turquoise eyes; he looks like a fucking anime character. If I hadn’t been so tired last night, I would’ve asked Church to swap rooms, so we could … well, you know, fuck.
“We’ll use the hot springs tonight,” Church says, holding his teacup by the rim, swirling the green liquid around as he muses. “May as well, since we’re here.”
“Um, you mean you guys can use the hot springs. Even if I wore a baggy shirt and shorts, my bindings aren’t that good. Get those things wet, and everyone will know I’ve got boobs.”
“Only because they’re so big and luscious,” Spencer says, and I give him a narrow-eyed look. He’s lucky we’re the only idiots down in the breakfast room at the butt crack of dawn. I blame Church; he made us all get up and trudge down here, so he could enjoy a traditional Japanese breakfast.
I have to say, I don’t recognize a damn thing on this table. Church, Ranger, and Spencer seem to be enjoying it, but I just copy the twins and go for the yellow roll that looks a bit like an omelet. Tastes … like scrambled eggs. We finish that tray off in no time.
“We’ll use the nude bathing pool,” Church supplies, and I give him a look that clearly says are you too stupid to live, bro?
“Oh, yeah, if my bindings under a baggy t-shirt are too obvious, I’m sure going in completely nude with my vagina hanging out will set a totally different impression.”
Spencer and the twins snicker, Ranger clenches his teeth, and Church looks back at me with a knowing smile.
“Listen, future wife,” he says, and I roll my eyes, “we will take that side of the pool for ourselves, and nobody will see a thing.”
“Two problems with that,” I say, using a pair of chopsticks to list my points. “First, how on earth are you going to get us the entire pool to ourselves? And second, somebody will see a thing. You. All of you will see.”
“Nothing we haven’t seen before,” the twins say in unison, each of them picking up a bowl of what looks like porridge and sniffing it. With a pair of identical shrugs, they start to eat.
