My first strike came after I beat the shit out of Ivan.
Strike two was the fire hose incident of junior year. Freaking funny, but apparently only to me.
I’m on my final strike, and they remind me every chance they get.
I’m sweating bullets, trying to come up with some excuse that won’t land my ass back home, when a face appears in the room.
It’s not the dean.
It’s the new kid.
He jerks to a stop, his brown eyes popping wide. “What are you doing in here? This is my room. I’m not supposed to be sharing with anyone.” His voice is all high and squeaky, and his tone makes it sound like rooming with someone is the worst thing in the world. He clears his throat, his eyebrows dipping in a sharp V as he lowers his voice and growls, “Get out.”
“Calm down.” I raise my hand, then have to make a quick grab for my Pringles. I hate it when they get smashed up in the can. “My room’s next door.”
I use the Pringles to point at the wall and then give the guy a little smile, hoping he won’t go running to the dean.
His sharp little nostrils flare. “Did you get lost on your way back from hockey?”
Huh, so he remembers me then.
I wasn’t imagining things. We had a connection, which is totally disconcerting. I need to get the hell out…while not looking like a guilty snoop.
I paste on a smile. “Well, I just wanted to welcome you to Eton.”
“By sneaking into my room?”
His voice is rising again, like some squeaky tween going through puberty. Have his balls failed to drop, or is that fear I’m detecting?
“I’m not gonna hurt you, man. I’m just…” I shrug. “I’m Trey.”
I extend my hand in greeting.
He points to the door. “Get out.”
“O-kay.” I raise my eyebrows. “I would say nice to meet you, but your shitty tone’s not really doing it for me, so…”
“You’re standing in my room uninvited. How do you want me to speak?”
“It’s a boarding school, man. Chill out. We sometimes visit each other’s rooms. Big deal.”
His skin pales, his thin black eyebrows wrinkling into a rollercoaster line. “Well…d-don’t come into mine.”
“Whatever, man.” I shrug and head for the door. “Good luck tomorrow. You’re gonna need it.”
I swear he looks like he’s about to faint.
I can’t help a snicker as I leave the room, shaking my head in confusion.
I’ve met wimpy kids before but this guy takes the cake. The door slams shut behind me and I rush into my room before anyone sees me in the hallway. Dumping the candy and chips on my bed, I quickly cover up the hole in our wall, moving Kade’s desk back as quietly as I can.
Letting out a breath, I spin back and look at Riley and Kade before crossing my arms over my chest and sighing. “Guys, we’ve got a problem.”
#5:
Spit Balls
Christiana
There was a guy in my room.
A damn sexy one, but that’s not the point.
I snap my eyes shut against the image of his arms and his triangular torso wrapped in that white skintight tank. His face wasn’t the only strong thing about him. Shoulders, biceps, pecs—hard and masculine. Strength like that could destroy…or protect.
“Shut up, you idiot.” I slump onto my bed and cover my ears, wanting to drown out everything around me.
He just walked in and started looking around. What if I was in the middle of getting changed?
I can’t risk that! I’m gonna have to let Rybeck and McNeal know.
But then what?
They can’t change the entire culture of the school just for me.
I told them I could handle it. They’re trusting me to pull this off.
For Robbie.
No one knows my real identity and no one will. I’ll just have to be more careful.
Jumping off my bed, I push the standard trunk all students are given for storage over to my door. It’s not exactly foolproof, but if I fill it with some books and stuff, it’ll be a deterrent and should give me enough time to hide anything before someone gets in.
I check the time and spend the next couple of minutes stacking the heaviest things I can find beside it, so that when I return I can fill the trunk and bar the door.
A bell sounds down the hallway, followed by a quick dinner call.
Smoothing a hand over my non-existent hair, I grimace and force my shoulders back.
I hate my hair. I hate my eyebrows, now so black and ugly.
I used to take my time getting ready—makeup, jewelry, trendy clothes…the works. Now I’m wearing baggy shirts to hide my shape. My beautiful hair’s been chopped and dyed raven-black, which now makes my usually tanned, healthy skin look sick and ghostly. Freckles that I used to mask with foundation are now on full display. I’ve never felt so ugly…so masculine.
But that’s the whole point, right?
Closing my eyes with a sniff, I move the chest aside and close the door behind me. Guys are flooding the hallway and I catch my intruder’s eye. He’s stepping out of the room next to mine. Followed by two guys.