“This constitutes an official meeting of the Student Council,” Ross continues, tapping something out on his phone. “Minutes and results will be recorded. Have at it boys.” He sets his phone down on the table in front of him and claps his hands.
The guys take off down the hill toward the field while we relax in the little café area with the big, glass windows. There’s a perfect view of all the action from up here, and I settle in to watch.
“Can I get you a drink?” Micah asks, tapping his fingers on the tabletop and smirking at me. “I know the girl who works the counter. She’ll give us whatever we want.”
“It’s cold out today—which is not how I like to spend my April days—so I suppose a hot cocoa’s in order.”
He nods and takes off, leaving me alone with Ross for a brief moment.
“You’re really leaving, huh?” he asks me, keeping his eyes on the field. He’s supposed to be the ref or judge or whatever, but yet he’s sitting up here in the warm building, out of harm’s way. Figures.
“I don’t know what to do. If Dad says I can’t stay, what can I do? Physically refuse to move? He’ll have Nathan drag me away kicking and screaming, probably call the police and tell them I’m a truant or something.” I park my head in my hand, watching as the four boys split up to the four corners of the field. A buzzer goes off, and they all start slinking around like they’re at war.
A smile curves my lips, quickly replaced by a frown.
“I heard your dad talking to Mr. Murphy and Mr. Dave about it, you know.” My ears perk up at that, and I turn to stare at Ross. He’s too busy looking out the window to notice, so he keeps talking casually, like it’s no big deal. “In the library yesterday. They thought everyone was gone for the night, but as the assistant to the Student Council, I have a key that gets me in after-hours. Pretty sure they’d forgotten about that.” He chuckles, and then glances my way, finally noticing my wide-eyed expression. “What’s your problem?”
“What, exactly, were they talking about?” I ask, leaning forward, the stool creaking beneath me. This could be important. Huge. A game-changer.
“Mr. Dave and Mr. Murphy were encouraging and congratulating the headmaster on his decision to send you away. The thing is, they all messed up at some point and said she or even Charlotte. Both teachers know your secret. Does the whole staff know?”
My mouth drops open.
Only the heads of the departments are supposed to know. I guess … Mr. Murphy would then. But Mr. Dave? He’s the librarian. He shouldn’t know anything about it. I get the chills, and my breath escapes me in a rush. All his glaring and grumbling, his anger at me for looking into the yearbooks … What if he’s the one writing the notes?
“Got your hot cocoa,” Micah says, putting a mug down on the table. There’s a huge mountain of whipped cream, topped with rainbow sprinkles. I smile.
“Thank you,” I say as he hands Ross a water with a lemon wedge, and relaxes with a beer for himself. Guess he was right about having connections. I glance back and see the girl behind the counter checking him out. I bristle, even though I tell myself how ridiculous that is. “Ross just told me something interesting.”
“Oh, yeah?” Micah asks, doing that bad boy lounge thing where he takes up like ten times as much space as a person rightfully should, legs outstretched, arms folded behind his head, just sprawled across the scenery of the café like he owns it. Who am I kidding? The Montagues probably do.
I gesture at Ross, and the council’s assistant sighs, giving a brief summary of his observations.
“Could you give us a second?” Micah asks after Ross is finished. He gives us both a raised eyebrow, but takes his drink to the table at the end of the row to keep watching the epic battle below. I’m watching, too, my stomach a twist of nerves that I can’t seem to untangle. Who do I want to win? Spencer? He could easily be the love of my life (I know, I know, I’m seventeen, and I sound stupid as hell, don’t I?). Anyway, he could be.
But the twins … they’re intriguing. I felt a spark with them; I still do.
Ugh.
Cody was so … I don’t want to say dumb, but dumb is what comes to mind. A relationship with him was easy. Now I know it’s because I didn’t care nearly as much about him as I do basically any of my new friends, but damn, all of this romantic shit is complicated.
“Do you think Mr. Dave could be Adam?” I ask, and Micah leans in toward me, putting his elbows on the table, green eyes sparkling. Much as I hate to admit it, there’s something about his cruel streak that calls to me. It shouldn’t. No, it should send me running in the other direction, but who doesn’t like a bit of bad boy every now and again?
