What Lies Beneath ▸ House of Anubis [1]

chapter one. house of secrets

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            Basically, my day started like this: unwillingly walking with Alfie and Clarke to school. Unwillingly meaning Clarke weaseled himself into mine and Alfie's walk. And to think, I was planning on using this time to tease Alfie about his unrequited crush on Amber, our resident spoiled rich girl. But nooooooooo, my best friend also happens to be Clarke's best friend, so I have to spend time with him in order to keep my friendship with Alfie.

            As usual, he and I are arguing about God knows what. I think it started over Alfie bringing up how good breakfast was that morning—how on earth does that make he and I argue?!

            "I don't even know what you mean by that!"

            "Adams, you're Australian. You don't know anything."

            "Nice diss, dummy."

            "Nice insult—"

            Alfie had been quietly tolerating us for the duration of our argument, but he's evidently had enough of it as he shouts, "Stop arguing! You're driving me crazy. Can't you just get along for, like, two seconds? For me?"

            The three of us come to a stop as we reach the school's doors. Alfie grabs the handle and looks back at us expectantly. Clarke and I look at each other, shrug, and respond simultaneously, "Not a chance."

—

            I did somehow manage to sneak away from them when we got inside the school, and for most of the school day. I grab my French book from my locker, frowning at the cover. God, I hate the French language. I close my locker shut, finding a familiar face leaning against the locker beside mine.

            "Ashley," Alfie asks, "do you think Amber likes me?"

            Honestly, I'm not completely sure why he's asking me this. She and I aren't particularly close, but I guess to him us both being blondes means we're constantly sharing secrets about boys. We're not. "Well, Alfredo," I respond slowly, "she thinks you're funny...?"

            His face lights up. I was trying to make him feel better about his terribly unrequited love, but I may have just made him feel too better. "She does?"

            "I have no idea," I admit. "We don't really talk about you. Or at all. She critiques my makeup and compliments my art. That's the extent of our friendship."

            Alfie pouts for a few moments, and then he gets a smile on his face. Uh-oh. "Do you know where Jerome is?"

            I shrug. "As long as he's not near me, I don't care. But he's probably conning some poor freshman out of their money. Once again, I must tell you that I hate him. But why? There's a lightbulb over your head and it's flashing red."