“Training that tit-less stick figure to fight, what a joke,” Mark guffaws, sauntering across the gym like he owns the place.
“Sexist pig,” I growl back at him, standing up and swiping at my brow. The twins are both in PE with me, and every Wednesday and Friday, when we have self-defense training, they take turns going over some of their MMA—mixed martial arts—moves with me. Just in case. You can never be too prepared, right? Especially not when being chased by a cult.
A cult … God. We’re all still having trouble processing the information that Mr. Murphy and, posthumously, Jenica gave us.
“Sexist? Selena is ten times the woman you are,” Mark growls, his face twisted up in disgust as Tobias' nostrils flare, and I get the feeling we're coming close to another brawl between the boys. “She could be trained. You? You're just a weak, little peasant that stumbled into a school where you don't belong.”
“Why don't you stumble into this fist?” Micah says from my other side, eyeing Mr. Tribble (yes, that same PE teacher who unknowingly shoved me into the locker room that day, and who's apologized to me about fifty times for the incident) to make sure he's not looking. “You think you can insult our girl on a regular basis and walk? You only think Ranger turned your ugly face into a pulp. It could've been so much worse.”
“Whatever, McCarthy,” Mark sneers, backing up to rejoin his friends on a separate training mat. The twins watch him go and then exchange a look over my head.
“What?” I ask, looking between them and trying to pretend like I'm not so exhausted that I'm seeing stars in my vision. True story though. But I really need an exercise routine in Connecticut to replace all the surfing I did back home. Seemed like learning how to fight from the twins could kill two birds with one stone. Err, considering the headless bird we found on the day of Eugene's memorial, maybe that wasn't the best metaphor.
“He's such a pill,” they say in unison, with matching sighs and shrugging shoulders. It's quite the performance. ‘Sometimes I want to be my own person for five fucking seconds.’ I remember Micah's words from the onsen and tug on a blond ringlet in thought. “I just hope he's guilty, so I can beat him up,” he adds, while Tobias stays silent.
Coach Tribble blows a whistle, signaling the end of class, and Tobias gives me a look.
“We're coming with you to change,” he says, and I groan. Since there's no girls' locker room just yet, I've been changing in the bathrooms just outside the gym. The thing is, I kind of need the twins to watch over me, so the killers can't catch me with my pants down—literally speaking.
After we're back in our uniforms, we head to lunch with the rest of the Student Council.
Ranger pulls me onto his lap as soon as we get there, and Spencer rolls his eyes.
“I know you two just did it for the first time, but come on, the lovesick puppy dog eyes are killing me.”
“Jealous?” Ranger taunts, tapping the toe of his combat boot against the floor and watching the lunch crowd with narrowed eyes. “Because I'm pretty sure that I saw Charlotte sneaking out of our room on my way back from the shower.”
My cheeks flush, but even though my mouth's hanging open like some sort of total derp, I have no response to that. It's true. Spencer and I did sneak some private time in this morning, but, like, we only did hand stuff. Although hand stuff is sex. If anyone tells you otherwise, they're either ignorant, delusional, or else they subscribe to a hetero-normative view of sex that's antiquated and weird.
Ahem.
“It's so weird that you guys are banging now,” Tobias remarks, looking at the two of us like we're alien creatures with purple tentacles coming out of our crotches. He watches that kind of porn sometimes. Trust me, I know, I've seen it. I played the twin game and stole their key the other day, snuck back into the room to surprise Tobias when Micah was with Church, and caught him masturbating. That was fun.
“Maybe it's weirder that they're not banging,” Micah adds, pointing between me and Church. My eyes go wide as Spencer and the twins chuckle a bit. I have to say, they've really embraced this whole group dating thing. Maybe it's because they were so close before I ever stumbled into their family? No matter what, I won't let myself break any of these bonds.
“We're waiting until marriage,” Church deadpans, putting his chin in his hand, long, elegant fingers curled against the side of his face. I laugh, but only a little, because this is the second time he's made that joke, so … Anyway, he's not looking at us, staring across the sea of students like he's ruminating on something important. After a moment, he turns those amber eyes back in our direction, his honeyed hair smooth and straight, framing that elegant, aristocratic face of his. “I had a thought,” he muses, changing the subject in an instant. He's a natural born leader, this one. “Why do you think the killers leave us alone for such long periods of time? Hmm? There are plenty of opportunities to strike and yet, it's been weeks since school started and there's no sign of them.”
