“Not just that. There's the PE situation—”
“I'll do PE. I'll just dress down in a stall, and double up on the sports bras. Okay, keep going. Let's figure this out.” I exhale, but Dad isn't smiling. He's clearly not buying what I'm selling.
“Charlotte, that's enough.” His tone brooks no argument, but I can't help myself. I follow him into his office.
“Keep being honest with me about the problems, and we'll figure out the solutions.”
“I have a lot of work to catch up on, and I'm sorry, but my decision is final.” He sits down at his desk, and I feel the urge to scream welling up inside of me. Instead, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and turn around, taking off and slamming his office door behind me.
I'm not done just yet, but I know my dad, and he's put up a wall for the night. Tomorrow, I'll try again.
As I pass by the kitchen window, I notice that the screen is missing and there's a small stone sitting on the sill. I might not have noticed it if I hadn't stopped to get a glass of water. I reach out and take hold of it, examining the smooth, matte black surface. There's a symbol carved into it, and painted over with red.
“What the hell?” I ask, looking up and staring out at the darkness. One of those damn owls hoots again, and I shiver. For a second there, I consider going in and telling my dad about it, but he already wants me to leave. I'm not going to convince him otherwise if I add fuel to the fire.
But the stone, and the missing screen, are creepy as hell. It could just be some random prank, but I feel like drawing a penis on the lawn in spray paint or something would be more high school dude appropriate. Putting a creepy stone with a weird symbol on somebody's windowsill?
That's next level fucked-up.
I shut the window, lock it, and then text the guys.
This is too weird to be a coincidence.
Something strange is happening at Adamson, and I get the awful feeling that as much as I want to stay … maybe Ranger’s right about me leaving?
I’m being hunted here.
I can feel it.“This isn't paint, it's wax,” Micah remarks, rubbing his thumb over the symbol carved in the stone. He picks at it with his fingernail and it comes up in little curls. “Yep, definitely wax.” He hands it over to Tobias, so he can take his own turn examining it.
“Wax?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair. It's so curly and knotted and gross right now. I meant to get up early and shower, but I slept in and ended up waking up to Dad throwing my covers on the floor and barking orders. So unpleasant.
Spencer is staring at me like I'm something out of a horror movie. I narrow my eyes on him and push my glasses up my nose.
“What?” I snap, as Tobias passes the stone to Ranger next. “You've been staring at me all morning.”
“Can you even see out of those glasses?” he asks, leaning forward and snatching them from my face. “They're literally coated in fingerprints and spatters of god-knows-what.” He starts cleaning them off on his shirt as I frown. “And have you ever heard of a hairbrush? They were invented in 1602, you know.”
“First off, you totally made up that number. That's not at all accurate. And also, fuck you.” I let Spencer clean my glasses and then snatch them back, shoving them on my face and trying not to marvel at how much better it actually is to have them clean.
“Even in that oversized uniform with the rat's nest hair, and the dirty glasses, you've given him a hard-on.” Church points at Spencer matter-of-factly before taking the stone in his hand. “He literally got a boner the first second he saw you.”
“I did not,” Spencer scoffs, looking around for any lurking staff members before he lights up a joint. “Blatant lie.”
“Then stand up and let me see,” I retort, taking the joint from him and inhaling. I end up coughing like crazy, and Spencer laughs at me.
“Noob,” he murmurs, and I narrow my eyes.
“Boner wizard,” I retort, and Spencer howls with laughter. Even the twins chuckle. Ranger seems a little freaked-out by the stone, and Church is too busy turning it over in his long-fingered hands.
“Boner wizard sounds pretty cool, actually. I'll take it. Sounds like a compliment to me. Thanks, toilet brush.”
I lunge over at him and end up in his lap, shoving his book bag onto the floor and then pointing at the bulge in his academy-issued slacks.
“The truth comes out,” I say, my face a scant three inches from his. It's too much, that scent of his, this woody cedar and lotus blend that makes my mouth water. I might have to ask what cologne he wears because I'm totally buying some and spraying my pillow with it.
