The Secret Girl (Adamson All-Boys Academy #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,29
again in unison. I wish I knew how they did it, all of that perfect cohesiveness. Reaching tentative fingers up, I touch the side of my head and shrug. It still hurts, but it's gotten a hell of a lot better.
“It's fine.” I stand up because I don't like the way they're both staring at me, and I leave my tray where it is. That's how it works here: there's always somebody else to clean up after you. There's actually no place to put the used trays; it's just expected to leave it for an employee. It's not a lifestyle I'm used to. Not even sure I'm comfortable with it.
The twins let me go, but that's not the last time I see them that week.
On Friday, I do my usual thing, counting down the days to the November break while I sit on the sofa in the abandoned girls' dorm, looking through the pictures from the old yearbooks that I saved on my phone. I've taken the class photo off the wall, too, and it's sitting next to me on the coffee table.
I'm determined to find out what happened to this girl, and why nobody's talking about her, why my dad didn't even mention her. I brought her up at dinner last week, but Dad barely acknowledged me. He didn't even look up from his tablet or put down the spoonful of peas he was holding midair. He told me had no idea what I was talking about, that I was the first girl to ever attend Adamson, and then when he finally did look my way with crinkled brows, his only question was on where I'd seen the class photo in the first place.
A noise outside gives me pause, and I turn the screen on my phone off, leaning over to blow out the black pillar candle that I pilfered from the common area on Halloween. The room plunges into darkness and I sit there as still and quiet as I can. Wouldn't be the first false alarm I've had. Last time, a tiny pair of eyes appeared from a hole in the wall and an opossum hissed at me before retreating.
After a moment of silence, I reach out to grab my lighter when the front door swings open and two figures waltz in. My first instinct is to scramble off the couch and reach for one of the old bricks I found outside and brought in as a weapon. If I have to, I will smash some creeper upside the head with it.
One of the figures flicks on a flashlight and shines the beam right in my face as I hold up a hand to shield my eyes.
“What the hell?” I ask before the light drops down, and I blink through the darkness. One of the McCarthy twins holds the beam up to his own face and smiles wickedly at me.
My heart drops and I feel a deep frown etch itself into my lips.
No! This is my spot, my sanctuary. I hold back a curse and set the brick back on the coffee table, grabbing the lighter and holding it to the candle wick until we're standing in a warm glow.
“What do you two want?” I ask as they exchange a look and move into the living room area, taking up my valuable personal space. One of them—let's call him Micah—picks up the class photo and studies it for a moment.
“You shouldn't be digging into this,” he says, exchanging a look with his brother. They both turn their emerald eyes back to me, studying my face. They've been following me around all week. I want to know what they're up to. Or what they think I'm up to.
“Why not?” I ask, feeling defiant as I grab the painting, my notebook, and my phone, taking up a new position on one of the other chairs in the room. Before I get a chance to grab my pretzels or the six pack of soda I brought with me, the twins are digging into it, and I'm groaning. “Please leave me and my food alone, don't you haunt me enough as it is?”
“This is Ranger's sister, Jenica,” one of the twins says, and the other gives his brother a look, like maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all. One of my brows goes up. That's the first time I've ever heard them disagree on anything. They barely speak separate sentences, let alone have separate opinions.