“I’m just hoping that wasn’t my mom’s not-so-subtle way of warning me, you know? Like maybe she knew about the Fellowship at some point and is wondering if I know, too.”
We all go quiet, considering. The mood’s heavy now and not particularly festive.
“Okay,” Ranger says, slapping his palms against his knees. “I’m done with this shit for now. I’m not letting some nutjobs in fox masks ruin my Christmas. Now, we bought you all of those boardgames, Charlotte, so pick one and I’ll get ready to kick your ass.”
“She’s truly awful at videogames, so that shouldn’t be hard,” Micah says with a grin, but I’m not worried. They’ve all admitted their knowledge of boardgames is limited—more of a peasant activity, or so I hear—and I’m confident that by the end of the night, I’ll have their balls in my hand.
That’s … not totally metaphorical either.The quiet lulls me into a false sense of security when we get back to Adamson after break. For weeks, everything is blissfully normal. It’s what I’ve been looking for, been wanting for so long that I let myself get lost in it.
It feels good to have friends, even better to have friends who happen to be lovers, my schoolwork is sorted, and I have a plan for the future. When winter finally leaves and spring kisses the campus, our problems start up again with a bang.
And end that way, quite literally.
“Here, Charlotte,” Ranger says, still the only one of the group who regularly calls me Charlotte (as opposed to Chuck, darling, Micropenis, and so on), “take this.” He hands over a box full of frilly aprons, and I grin. To Ranger, these are just as important as butter, sugar, and flour. He can't bake without them. “Spencer can carry the mixers downstairs when you go.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” Spence says, picking up one of the pink KitchenAid mixers and escorting me out the door of the Culinary Club classroom and downstairs, to the massive industrial kitchen that feeds the school and its staff three square meals a day, seven days a week.
This year, the Northeast Academy Baking Competition is being held on our campus. Last year, it was at Everly. And before that, I hear it was held in New York City, in the giant skyscraper that houses North York Preparatory Academy.
It's a pretty simple affair: the judges hand over a category, and we bake what we can in the allotted time with the ingredients given, and then our desserts are judged. There are three categories in total, and the highest score wins a ten-thousand-dollar donation to the charity of their choice.
Again, with rich people and the game of donating. Like, all the sponsors could just as easily have sent checks to the charities, but it's also kind of fun, so I'm not complaining.
That is, until we get downstairs and I see that blue-haired girl from last year. Kesha. The one that Ranger slept with. She spies me from across the room and waves.
I turn away quickly and pretend to be busy folding and refolding the aprons.
“She's coming this way, isn't she?” I ask Spencer, and he checks over his shoulder to look.
“Yep. Ex-girlfriend incoming.”
“Never an ex-girlfriend because I didn't date,” Ranger says, slamming a box of cooking utensils down on the stainless-steel counter next to me, his cheeks heating slightly as he glances my way. “Charlotte's my first girlfriend.”
“Okay, bro,” Spencer says, turning around just as Kesha nears our station, dressed neatly in the white blazer and black tie of Everly All-Girls Academy. She fiddles with the tie for a moment as she looks Ranger over and then turns her attention back to me.
“Good to see you've come out of the closet, so to speak,” she says, trying for a genuine smile. “I'm actually here with Selena and Hana. You probably don't remember us all from the Valentine's Day dance last year …” She tucks some electric blue hair behind her ear, and I decide it really bothers me that she likely uses the same hair dye as Ranger. What can I say? I'm a jealous asshole.
“I remember you three from the dock,” I say with a nod, glancing over at Ranger as he narrows his eyes.
“Speaking of, do you remember passing out on the lawn outside the dance hall?”
Church and the twins appear with more boxes, laying them out on the counters and unloading mixing bowls, measuring cups, whisks, and spatulas. They glance our way but keep their distance, like they can guess what Ranger's up to over here.
“Yeah, I remember,” Kesha says, her brown eyes crinkling up at the edges. “I mean, I don't remember how I hurt myself, just that Selena found me and brought me inside.” She gives Ranger a suspicious sort of look. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”
