The Secret Girl (Adamson All-Boys Academy #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,16

wait for a response from him, I eat my food and scroll through social media.

“I must be a glutton for punishment,” I mumble as I rub my thumb over one of Cody's selfies. He's got this big white smile, skin bronzed from the sun, and brown hair streaked with blond highlights. He looks so … like the total opposite of this place with its ice-cold nights, thick copses of woods, and uptight rich assholes. I mean, there are rich assholes at home, too, but I go to school in Santa Cruz, so most of them are pretty hippy-dippy, even if they have big bank accounts. These guys have that East Coast, old money vibe.

After a while, I start to wonder if Dad's going to text me back at all. Maybe he went to bed early? Or has a meeting or something?

My phone's pretty low on battery, too, and I forgot my charger this morning.

“God, my luck seriously sucks,” I say aloud, my voice echoing around the empty kitchen. I get a bit desperate then and text Church Montague to ask for help. I mean, he is the Student Council President, right? He's supposed to help other students.

I cover the rest of the casserole up, put it in the fridge, and then wash my spoon. Last week, I forgot to wash a spatula and the Council gave me another day of detention. Such stupid pricks.

Settling into one of the comfy chairs in the corner, I curl my legs up and wait, only to fall asleep. Seems I have a habit of doing that. When I wake up, I rub at my sleepy eyes and look around. There are candles all over the counters, dozens of them, and they're all lit.

“What the …” I start, pushing up from the chair. My phone clatters to the floor, and I curse as I pick it up. It's dead. Slipping it into my pocket, I walk past the candles warily, going for the door again.

It's still locked.

Turning around, I put my back up against it and try to decide if I should be freaked out here. Screw it, I'm freaked out anyway.

“Hello?” I call out, immediately cringing. That's what every horror movie heroine says just before she gets her throat slit. “Your prank is seriously stupid. Candles? I mean come on, you can do better than that.”

Movement from the corner startles me, and in an instant, there's a man coming at me from the shadows, holding a glass jar. I push myself against the door as he rushes toward me, unscrewing the top and flinging the contents onto me.

At first, I think it's just a few twigs and leaves … and then I feel the crawling.

Spiders.

There were spiders in that jar.

I'm so scared that I don't even scream. My breath starts to come in panting gasps, and I end up yanking my blazer over my head and tossing it before I go for the buttons on my shirt. The bindings! They'll see the bindings.

Silent tears are pouring from my eyes as I brush frantically at my shirt, knocking eight-legged bodies onto the floor as chanting starts up from the opposite end of the room. The man in the black hoodie nearest me just watches as four others rise up from the darkness near the pantry, humming some ominous tune.

They surround me as I shake and claw at my hair and clothes, trying to rid myself of all the creepy crawlies. I'm a serious arachnophobe, like bad. This is essentially my worst nightmare. The people in hoodies, the candles, that's nothing but fanfare for the horror of the spiders.

“Chuck Carson,” the person with the jar says, throwing back his hood to reveal Church's blond hair and amber eyes. They're like spun honey, so pretty in the candlelight. I hate myself for even thinking that in such a tense moment, but there it is. “You have been an insufferable asshole from day one. How do you plead?”

“F-fuck you,” I grind out, shaking and running my fingers obsessively through my hair.

“How do you plead?” the twins purr, pushing back their hoods. The other two boys remove theirs, but it's already quite obvious that Ranger and Spencer are inside.

“We're willing to offer you some amnesty, but first you must repent.” Spencer gives a wolfish grin and crosses his arms over his chest. Ranger just stares at me with unreadable blue eyes.

“Repent?” I breathe, looking at them all like they're crazy. My heart is racing, and my face is streaked