I've even spoken with a detective.”
“They're not going to at least question me and Ranger?” I ask, but Dad shakes his head. There's seriously something fishy about that. I call bullshit.
“No, I'm sorry.” He looks me straight in the face. “I believe you, you know that?” I nod, and he sighs again. “Good. But you can't stay here, you understand that, right?”
“Where am I supposed to go then?” I whisper, leaning forward. My glasses slide down my nose so that Dad's face gets a little blurry. “Please. We only have three and a half months left in the year. I want to stay.”
A knock at the door pauses our conversation, and Dad stands up from his chair, moving out of his office, through the kitchen, and over to the front door to open it.
It's … the entire Student Council, Ross included but Spencer noticeably absent.
“Mr. Carson,” Church says, nodding briefly. My dad steps back to let him in, and the other boys follow after. Dad looks confused as all get out, but he invites them into the kitchen to sit around the massive island.
“Can I get you boys anything to drink?” he asks, looking around the room. I think he means, like, soda or water or juice or something.
“I'll take a cup of coffee, if you don't mind,” Church says, and I roll my eyes as Dad raises his brows. He doesn't believe in teenagers drinking coffee, but he also just lets me do my own thing. Still, whenever he used to see me and Monica waltz in with a pair of Starbucks cups in our hands, we'd get the lecture about caffeine and developing brains and all that shit.
“I don't normally encourage students to bring academy matters back to the house, but … Chuck's been mentioning … his burgeoning friendship with you boys.”
“They already know,” I whisper, giving Dad a look. He purses his lips and glances back up at the five boys, his attention bouncing from Church to Ranger, and then over to Micah and Tobias who I'm nearly positive he's not able to tell apart. He looks mildly relieved at Ross' presence, like maybe all my new friends aren’t just sexy, straight boys.
“We wanted to come here and talk to you about your daughter,” Church continues as Ranger's eyes rove the kitchen, taking in every minute detail. I imagine he's been that way for a while, building skills from his hunt for the truth about his sister. “We'd like to petition you to leave her enrolled here at Adamson.”
“I see,” Archie begins, but it's quite clear he's skeptical as hell right now. “And why's that?”
Church smiles, and it's one of his pretty ones, no sign of the crazy person hiding underneath. Good for him. He knows how to put a mask on like everyone else. It's a useful skill to have, isn't it?
“We think she's an asset to the Culinary Club,” Church lies, his voice as smooth as properly creamed butter (Ranger would be proud of the reference if it weren't all in my head). “We might actually have a chance at beating Everly at next year's baking competition.” Right. Because Ranger could win it with his hands tied behind his back. “Besides, we've grown quite fond of Charlotte in the last few months. We'll be sure to keep an eye on her. We're even petitioning the school board to allow for some extra security on campus.”
“I noticed your petition,” Dad replies, eyes slightly narrowed. Still clearly not fully on-board with this whole thing. “And I'm going to encourage the board to heavily consider it. At this point, all I've heard back from them is a general consensus that they believe the campus is safe and secure enough, and that there's no need. I wouldn't get too excited too quickly.”
Church nods, like this is the expected response.
“We just wanted to let you know that we'll be watching out for Chuck; nothing will happen on our watch.”
Dad looks over at me with a narrowed gaze, like he thinks I put the boys up to this. I hold up my hands in a placating gesture, and give him my best innocent angel look. It should work, you know, since I really didn't know about this whole coup.
“That's a lovely sentiment, but unfortunately, I can't expect a group of students to be responsible for another’s physical safety—especially not after everything that’s happened. It was nice of you to offer before, but frankly, this whole scenario is getting out of hand.