Page 34 of Satan's Spawn
But the closer we get to the entrance of the building the more that determination feels like wishful thinking.
“Morning, miladies!” Archer kicks off the garden gates holding his arms out for us. “It’s a big day. Hope you’re ready.”
Archer’s uniform fits him as if it was tailored specifically to his body. Plaid tie and white oxford, black blazer, which fits his broad shoulders like a glove. His khakis are fitted, not loose or cringy looking, and his dress shoes look freshly shined.
Even his red hair is perfectly styled: shaved short on the sides and parted thick wavy strands on top. He looks very handsome.
“Mornin’.” I smile and hand Archer his Americano, taking a sip of my matcha latte.
“Sunshine here didn’t get anything?” He refers to Hendrix, who looks as excited for the first day of classes as one would storming the beaches of Normandy.
“I had my double shot of espresso, I’m good.”
I adjust the bag over my shoulder, eager to get this day started and over with. “Ready to go inside?”
Archer looks down at his watch. “We still have ten minutes until homeroom.”
“Perfect, because I need a cigarette.” Hendrix pulls a Newport out of her blazer pocket, and brings it to her lips as she struts further away from the entrance of the building.
“I’ll walk with you.” I start moving behind her and Archer follows.
“You guys coming to the Harold’s party this weekend?”
Am I supposed to know what that is?
“What the hell is a Harold’s party?” Hendrix raises a questionable brow as she lights up the end of her cancer stick.
“Oh, duh. Newbs.” He shakes his head. “Sampson, he’s the Royals running back, also my boy. His dad owns all the Harold’s Donuts in the country.”
Mom took me to that donut shop, holy crap. It’s right smack in the middle of Time Square. And it’s amazing. You get to build your own donut, flavor and all, and even choose from so many different frosting and toppings. Their hazelnut mocha donut was to die for.
“He’s a really cool dude, trust me, and he throws the most epic pool party every year on the first weekend school starts. It’s this Saturday, you girls should definitely come.”
Hendrix couldn’t look any more disinterested in the idea of a pool party as she blows a cloud of smoke into the sky.
“I wasn’t invited. And it’s not really my scene.” I shrug.
“Not your scene? You’re from SoCal for Christ’s sake. Isn’t that all you guys do?”
Not me.
“A lot, yes. I’ve never been to a pool party, though. I was more geared toward my studies than partying.”
And mostly hung out with my parents.
Especially my dad.
A pang shoots through my chest at the thought of him, but I try my best not to make it noticeable.
“Well, in that case you have to come. You can be my date.” He winks at me, not an ounce of nerves in sight, which makes it obvious the suggestion was a friendly one.
“Can I sit on it for a bit?” I hope I’m not coming off rude, but it’s a tall ask for a person who was never part of the “it” crowd.
“Of course, just let me know. I’ll be there either way.”
Archer seems unphased by my response, which I appreciate, and Hendrix seems to have had enough of her cigarette and the conversation. She flicks the Newport into the street and hikes her black bag over her shoulder, gesturing her chin to the door.
“Let’s do this, guys.”
