“Eric,” Ranger says as his father looks him over with a displeased sort of glint in his eyes.

“Hello, Ranger,” the man replies carefully, his eyes sliding over to the rest of us for a brief moment. That’s when I notice it, his split lower lip. My gaze widens, but I’m clearly not the only one who sees it.

Eric is wearing the same injury that I gave the man in the limo.

Ranger’s shoulders tighten, and his mouth flattens out.

“How are you?” Eric asks, but not like he particularly cares. More like he has no soul.

“Just fine, Dad,” Ranger replies, tossing his apron aside and stepping out the door.

Let’s just say, I don’t sleep very well those next few nights.

The Adamson All-Boys Academy sign is lying on the grass near the edge of the road, and the new one, the one that simply says Adamson Academy is being put up in its stead.

“When are they supposed to show up?” Spencer asks, watching the road with a frown fixed firmly in place. Since today is the first day of the quarter, it’s time to introduce my new female classmates to the population. Dad has specifically chosen me for this task, and much as I’d like to bail on this, I feel like I owe him a bit.

When I got back from London, I didn’t know what to say to him, so I didn’t say anything at all. Does he really need to know about the attack? Or Mark? I don’t want anything to happen to him either.

“Soon,” I say, checking my phone and sighing. My eyes swing over to Ranger, standing there with one arm across his chest, his gaze fixed to the woods. He, of course, didn’t find any evidence as to his father’s involvement with the Fellowship, but that split lip was enough to confirm that he is, in fact, still working with them. “Do we know how we’re planning on dealing with the Student Council elections? We still don’t have a plan.”

“We’re not going to win,” the twins say together, dropping their shoulders in a dramatic sigh. “Why bother?” They hold their hands up and out on either side, effectively giving up. “Besides,” Tobias continues, smiling softly at me as the wind tousles his hair around his face. “We have more important things to worry about: like you.”

“You can’t just give up the Student Council that easily,” I say, knowing that it means a lot to them. “We can come up with something.”

The sound of the car coming up the frozen gravel drive makes my already chilly skin pebble with goose bumps. There’s snow on the ground, and it’s freezing cold up here all the damn time. I swear to you, my blood is thinner than everyone else’s, and I need a whole two scarves and three jackets to stay warm.

Once the car’s parked, the girls climb out and I greet them with a small wave. There’ll be an assembly later, but Dad wanted to give them the chance to start their morning off with a normal routine.

“Hello, Charlotte,” Aster says, beaming brightly as she eyes me and Ranger together. “Church, I hope you know that your girl here’s got a side thing going with this one.”

“We’re a polyamorous group, thank you for noticing,” he says, but the words might as well be fuck you and the horse you rode in on. “It’s not like the thing you’ve got going, slinking around and screwing Mark behind Selena’s back.”

The quip works and Aster’s face flames before she marches around us, crunching through the snow with the other two Everly transfer students behind her.

“That was … reasonably harsh,” I say as the twins grin.

“We put condoms in her locker, too.” They each grab one of my arms and turn us back toward the main building.

“We figured she might think Selena put them there,” Tobias adds.

“Oh, and also, we hate her,” Micah adds as we move through the double wide doors at the front of the school. “You know, for running against us when senior year’s supposed to be a piece of cake.”

“Frankly, between the cult and elections, I’m pissed,” Spencer adds, grinning. “So how do we take her down? And what the fuck do we do about Mark?”

“Part of me thinks we should try to win the elections through fair play,” Church begins, glancing up at the curved stone ceilings above us. “The rest of me knows that if Mark is involved with the Fellowship, then I’d rather die than hand him my school.”

“So, let’s do this, our way,” Spencer says, sliding his phone from his pocket. “I have an idea.”

Showing the girls around on Monday isn’t exactly a pleasant task, particularly since one of my boyfriends called Aster out for having an affair with Selena’s boyfriend, two of my other boyfriends stuffed her locker with contraceptives, and the silver-haired one is actively plotting against her behind the scenes.

The fifth and final boyfriend decides to wait until our Culinary Club meeting on Tuesday to piss her off.

“You’re not coming in my kitchen,” Ranger says, standing in the doorway to the classroom with his apron on, arms crossed in front of his chest. His lip is raised in a snarl as he stares down the home ec teacher, Mr. Johansen. Technically, Mr. Johansen’s supposed to be our supporting staff member, but I’ve only ever seen him come by our meetings in passing. At least he gives us all high marks—even I got an A both semesters last year.

“Mr. Woodruff,” Mr. Johansen scolds, reaching up to adjust his glasses. “I’m appalled by your behavior. The Culinary Club does not belong to you or the Student Council, much as you might wish it did. Now, move aside and make Aster feel at home here.”

With a muscle ticking in his jaw, Ranger moves aside and lets Aster Hayes into the room. She’s beaming, red hair frothing around her face in frizzy curls. She even has a light dusting of freckles over her button nose. Thinking of her as a murderer is … difficult.

“I don’t like this,” Spencer murmurs, eyes tracking her movement through the classroom. Mr. Johansen quickly makes an excuse and disappears down the hall to read his erotica novels. He’s always leaving his Kindle on, and always at a questionable scene of dubious character. Old perv.

“Me neither,” I hedge as Aster spins, holding her bookbag in front of her, and beaming like a crazy person.

“I was in the Baking Club at Everly,” she explains, looking around the room at our glares, frowns, and—in the case of the twins—stuck out tongues. “This is sort of my thing. Thank you so much for having me.”

“You know we don’t like you,” Spencer says as Ranger starts to anger-bake in a whirlwind. “So why the hell are you here?”

“I know it must be tough to have true competition in the elections, but isn’t that what politics are all about? Fierce competition, honesty, and integrity?” Aster’s green eyes scan the classroom, taking in our cozy reading nook with the alphabetized cookbooks (my work), the gleaming counters, and the fully-stocked refrigerator and pantry. This is our home away from home, y’know? Having her in it feels like a violation.

“Uh, do you follow American politics at all? Because that’s pretty much the opposite of how it works.” Spencer rolls his eyes and exchanges a long, studying look with the twins. Surely, they’re up to no good, but there’s also a very good chance that Aster Hayes is guilty, so … fair is fair.