He steers me away from Mr. Dave, but I pull back, turning to face the librarian one more time.
“I know Mr. Murphy's been writing me those notes,” I say, and Mr. Dave's nostrils flare again, though he doesn't confirm or deny the accusation. “And I know that whatever he's up to, you and my dad are in on it.”
We turn and leave the room, letting the door slam shut behind us, but I've got that little niggle of an idea in my head again, and there's no getting past it.
I know what I need to do.On Monday, I break my usual routine of sleeping in, waking up too late to brush my hair, and rushing to class in rumpled clothes, skewed glasses, and a bad mood. Instead, I'm up as soon as Church starts the coffee brewing, lifting one perfect brow in my direction as I whisk open the closet doors and stare at the uniform I stole from Dad's house. I'm pretty sure he came down to the dorm the night of the fight to yell at me over it, but lost his train of thought when he saw the mess my boys had made of the football team.
So, now it's mine.
The choice is mine.
And I’ve made it.
“Are you sure about this?” Church asks, hiding a genuine sort of smile with his coffee mug. “This changes everything.”
“I'm sure,” I declare, unzipping the plastic garment bag and pulling the outfit out, so I can study it. “Positive.”
Church helps me carry my makeup bag, nail polish, and blow dryer into the bathroom; the rest of the Student Council boys empty the room and guard the door, giving me time to shower and do my hair and makeup before they help me into a winter coat with a hood. It messes with my hair a bit, but oh well. I curled that shit into ringlets this morning.
“You take almost as long to get ready as we do,” the twins say, pointing across at one another. “Being a girl is hard.”
“Have you ever heard The Sexy Getting Ready Song from the show Crazy Ex-Girlfriend?” I ask, pursing my freshly glossed lips and giving the boys a look as I swirl a finger around indicating my face. “This is a bunch of patriarchal bullshit. This doesn't make me a girl. I just … it's like armor or something, okay? I feel calmer wearing it. I want to wear it. That's feminism right there: choice.”
“No arguments here,” Ranger says, his usually deep, calm voice a little ragged. When I squint, I swear I can see spots of color on his cheeks. He quickly grabs my shoulders and turns me around to face the door, his hands burning me, even through the thick wool of the jacket. If we don't resolve our little sexual tension problem soon, we're both going to explode. “But let's march out there and own that femininity, shall we?”
He pushes me out the door and into a sea of boys sneering and glaring, holding their dicks and bouncing up and down in anticipation of using the bathroom. Spencer and Church finally step aside and allow the horde into the bathroom.
“Fuck you guys,” Mark sneers, storming past us. He eyes me suspiciously as he goes, but I've got an entourage of Student Council members around me; I feel untouchable. We head back to my room, and I toss off the jacket, fixing my hair in a handheld mirror while all five guys stare at me.
“What?” I ask, popping my lips to even out my lip gloss. With a sigh, I put a fist on my hip, my pleated skirt swishing with the movement. “Come on, it's not like you guys haven't seen me all dolled up before.”
“No, but …” Spencer starts, lifting up a finger and then dropping his hand by his side. His dopey lovestruck grin fades into a smirk. “It's just, our little Chuck-let is all grown-up and tackling Adamson in a skirt. It's a proud, but scary moment for your harem.”
“My … what?!” I choke out as Ranger grits his teeth, Church raises a brow, and the twins grin.
“We're living a reverse harem,” they say in unison, nodding and then exchanging a look. Tobias reaches into his front pocket, pulls out a little Ouran High School Host Club button with all the characters on it, and attaches it to my own blazer pocket, right next to the Student Council pin.
“There,” he says, his grin getting a little lopsided as he looks me over with those pretty green eyes of his. “Now everyone knows.”
“And,” Micah adds, lifting up a finger. “This gives us carte blanche to beat up anyone who says anything derogatory.”
With a sigh, I shake out my arms and close my eyes. This isn't going to make things easier for me here at Adamson. No, it's going to make things harder. But I'm also fairly certain that this is the best way for me to get at the heart of this mystery.
