Page 100 of The Forever Crew (Adamson All-Boys Academy 3)
“Let’s get down there before Mark and his loser friends eat all our cupcakes,” I say, trying to keep the mood light as I hook my arms with Church on one side and Micah on the other. It’s hard to forget though that Mark isn’t just a bully and an asshole—he’s part of the Fellowship of the Divine, the pieces of shit responsible for Jenica’s death, Eugene’s, and Jared’s.
No, Chuck, no, no cult talk tonight, I remind myself as the guys walk me down the stairs like a princess. I really feel like one in that moment, too, much like I did the day they took me to the fairy-tale suite in Disneyland.
My dress sweeps the stairs as we move down them together and tears sting the corners of my eyes.
“You okay, Chuck?” Micah whispers, but I can only nod because I never expected anything like this to happen to me. And I don’t just mean the plethora of dick (see, I’m deflecting to humor because I have a problem accepting my own emotions). The Bornstead University acceptance letter kept me company the whole time I was getting ready.
“Totally fine,” I choke, but the words are high and reedy, and Micah chuckles at me, putting his head up against the side of mine for comfort.
“You’ll be alright,” he says, and my eyes tear up even more.
Dad’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs, like a proper father on prom night. To say I’m surprised is an overstatement. Usually, he’s a headmaster first and a father second. Maybe discovering that his only child is being hunted by a vicious, wealthy, powerful cult has shifted his life views a bit?
He takes a picture of me with his phone, no warning, just a flash in my face that has me blinking back stars. Yep, yep, okay, he’s definitely in dad mode tonight.
“Charlotte,” he says, looking half-pleased at seeing me in my dress and half weirded-out that I have five boyfriends to take to prom. I mean, I’ve never been an overachiever in anything in life: lower than average grades, passable surfing skills, a karaoke voice that’s beyond forgettable.
I guess the one thing in life I’ve decided to overachieve is the boyfriend thing. Pretty sure I’m nailing this shit.
Oh, and also, I have awards in blurting embarrassing crap, and acting like an asshole without meaning to. Those are my other rare talents.
“Dad,” I say, trying not to get choked up again. “You came.”
“Of course I came,” he says, a bit of that blustery headmaster voice in his tone. “You’re my only daughter. Besides, I promised your mother I’d get pictures for her. Why don’t you kids”—unnecessary emphasis on the word kids, but that’s okay—“scoot a little closer together.”
Spencer, Ranger, and Tobias stand on the step behind me while I stay in the center with Church on my left and Micah on my right.
My heart is beating so loud, I can barely hear my dad when he tells us to smile.
But I do, I smile big.
He takes several pictures with the group, and then makes the boys rotate, so I have one couple photo with each.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, and we look at each other for a moment before he finally turns away. Our relationship is improving, but it’s not perfect. And that’s okay.
“I’ll see you at the dance,” he says, disappearing out the door and heading down the path ahead of us.
Before we step out the door, Spencer grabs the white wool coat I got for Christmas from my mom and slips it over my shoulders. The night is cool, but it’s obvious that spring is on its way, keeping the frosty bite out of the air.
Students stream around the side of the main building, heading for the propped open door that leads into the ballroom. Already, I can hear music playing, loud pop songs that used to be my jam back home. I mean, I still like them, but I’m starting to experiment with other genres, too. Church always puts on classical music when he’s studying, and it’s starting to grow on me.
We head inside, and it’s like entering another world.
There’s an arch of fresh flowers above our heads, a professional photographer with a full-sized gazebo to the right, and servers bringing drinks to the round white tables.
There’s one in the very front, next to the dance floor, with a sign on it that reads Reserved for the Student Council. Someone’s added sit here and we’ll beat you up in red on the bottom, probably the twins or Spencer.
“I have to say, with all that money you rich people horde and refuse to pay in fair wages to your workers, you sure know how to put together a nice party.”
“Aww, thanks, babe,” Spencer says, putting a hand to his chest. Yep, the irony’s completely lost on them. He grabs my hand before I even get a chance to sit down and pulls me onto the dance floor, like he did earlier today. Nobody else is dancing yet, but that doesn’t stop the turquoise-eyed boy I fell in love with from spinning me around in a completely and utterly unpracticed sort of way.
