The Secret Girl (Adamson All-Boys Academy #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,37

I'm too tired to bother with him. Besides, I already have the Student Council on my ass. The last thing I need to do right now is gain some aggro from anyone else.

My eyes drift over to them, sitting at the table in the corner. The twins are literally standing on it, giving some sort of stupid performance that has the room roaring with laughter. I don't pay much attention to them, switching my gaze to Ranger.

He's staring right at me, so I turn away, and try to catch a nap on the cafeteria table. We're on lock down until the police give the okay, so I'm forced to eat in here with everybody else.

It's a veritable hell.

After school, Dad escorts back to the house, and I find myself being led to one of the upstairs bedrooms.

“You'll stay in here for the remainder of the year,” he tells me, and I gape at him. That's pretty much the last thing I wanted. Don't get me wrong: living in a dorm full of asshole boys is basically a nightmare, but living with dad is worse. Trust me: I've been doing it for nearly seventeen years now, and I like having my own space.

“Why?” I snap, but he just gives me this look, his eyes a deep blue that are nothing like my pale-colored ones. If he hadn't demanded Mom get a paternity test after I was born, I might wonder if I were his biological child at all. We're so damn different in the personality department. “Nobody else has to move in with their dad.”

“Nobody else was chased by a man with a knife,” Dad replies dryly, and my jaw nearly hits the floor as I gape at him.

“You don't believe me, do you?” I whisper, and he gives me a look through his Coke-bottle glasses.

“I believe you think you were chased by something,” he says with a huge sigh, his big barrel chest rising and falling with the motion. “But if you think is going to get you a one-way ticket back to California then—”

“Have I even asked to go back to California since last night?!” I scream, because even though I thought to take advantage of this situation to get my way, I haven't yet. Something … is holding me back.

Jenica Woodruff.

For some strange reason, I can't get her smiling face out of my mind. Or her brother's frowning one. Or … whatever.

“Charlotte, I'm done with this conversation. I've asked some of the boys to move your things over this weekend. For now, you can sleep in the guest bed. There are spare uniforms in the drawer.” Dad moves away before I can even think up an appropriate response, and I slump down on the edge of the doily-covered bed. Slipping my phone from my pocket, I video chat Monica and pray that she answers me.

Instead, this is what I get via text: Why u always callin', girl?! LOL Text me & I'll reply later. Busy now.

My heart drops, and I feel a frown trace across my lips. Texting isn't the same as seeing her face, or Cody's, not the same as seeing the beach in the background or hearing their voices. I don't want to text. I want to talk, face to face.

I message Cody next, but all I get is sorry, can't talk right now, love ya babe. Groaning, I fall back onto the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Tomorrow, fall break is officially on, and I'll be able to talk to dad again. No way is he going to want to sit with my sulking ass for an entire week.

No freaking way.

Three days into the break, it becomes obvious to me that Archie is nowhere near letting me go back to California. I do manage to get him to give up the car keys so I can go into town though.

Before I leave, I take advantage of the empty campus and toss my boy persona aside, grabbing the duffel bag from the downstairs closet that I stashed there the day we moved. It has a lot of my girly stuff in it.

“Oh, how I've missed you,” I whisper, putting my contacts in and grinning at myself in the mirror. The flat-iron is next, and I take care of those stupid curls, giving myself a sleek, edgy straight 'do that keeps the hair off of my face.

Once I've given myself a smoky eye, red-red lips, and falsies, I feel more like myself. I wouldn't exactly