Get Even (4 page)

Kitty stashed her duffel bag in the corner of her room. She’d deal with homework later. It was time to role-play a talking, flying horse for her sisters.

She was just leaving the room when her cell phone buzzed.

“Five minutes!” Lydia shrieked from the living room.

“Hurry up, Kitty!” Sophia chimed in.

Kitty grabbed her cell and opened the text message as she walked down the hallway. She paused midstep, immediately recognizing the phone number of the emergency DGM burner phone.

We need to meet tonight.

FIVE

FIVE HOURS LATER, KITTY SAT PATIENTLY ON AN UNFINISHED
table in her uncle’s furniture warehouse. She took a deep breath. The smell of wood shavings and linseed oil reminded her of childhood, when she’d spent hours playing in the dark recesses of the work space while her mom helped out in the office. She always felt safe here, which is probably why she’d chosen it as the secret meeting place for DGM.

A chair creaked as Margot checked her watch for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. She sighed heavily, as if Olivia’s lateness was somehow unexpected. “She’s never this late.”

“She’s
always
this late,” Bree corrected.

“She’ll be here.” Inside, Kitty was as jittery as Margot, but she tried to keep her voice calm. She was their leader. She had to act like it.

A knock echoed through the warehouse. One rap, a pause, then three more knocks, hollow and deep.

“Finally,” Margot muttered.

Kitty threw a steel bolt on the heavy metal door, and cracked it just enough for someone to slip inside.

“Sorry!” Olivia skittered across the concrete floor, teetering on her sky-high heels. “My bus was late.”

“Your bus is always late,” Bree said.

Olivia flounced into an open chair and cast a sidelong glance at Bree. “Not all of us get to drive Daddy’s brand-new Lexus,” she said, her tone icy.

“Cut it out, you guys,” Kitty said. “That’s not why we’re here.” Olivia and Bree got along about as well as toothpaste and orange juice, and sometimes Kitty felt like she spent the majority of their meetings keeping them in their respective fight corners.

“Why
are
we here?” Bree asked. She tipped her chair back and propped her boots on the table. “Another target? Please tell me we’re going after Amber Stevens.”

“No!” The word practically exploded from Margot’s mouth.

Bree swung around, clearly taken aback. “Why not? Amber’s the biggest cowbag at school. If anyone could use a massive bitch slap, it’s her.”

“Not yet,” Margot said, a tremor in her voice. “I’ll tell you when it’s time to go after Amber.”

Bree opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and turned her attention to her fingers, chipping off flecks of blue nail polish.

Olivia raised her hand. “So why did you call the meeting, Kitty?”

“I didn’t.” Kitty nodded toward Margot. “She did.”

Without a word, Margot placed her laptop on the table. The thinnest notebook Kitty had ever seen, it fired up in an instant, and Margot opened a browser window without connecting to a wireless signal.

“Damn,” Bree said. “Where did you get that, the CIA?”

“Department of Defense, actually,” Margot said. “My parents’ new prototype. Three-terabyte solid-state disk, thumbprint identification, bulletproof casing, and a Core i13 processor that won’t hit the general marketplace for at least another two years.”

Olivia gaped. “That is so hot.”

Margot stepped aside so they could see the screen. “Behold, our next target.”

Kitty, Bree, and Olivia all leaned in to get a good look at the guy on Margot’s computer. He was lanky and blond, and wore an Abercrombie and Fitch sweatshirt and a backward Arizona Cardinals cap. His face was heavily dotted with acne, his smile wide and angular.

“Who is he?” Olivia asked.

“Ronny DeStefano.”

Olivia shook her head. “Never heard of him.”

“I saw him at school yesterday,” Bree said. “In a ’Maine Men shirt. Looked like a new recruit.”

“He is,” Margot said. “Just transferred.”

Kitty glanced up at Margot, suddenly on guard. “How can he already be on our hit list if he just got here?”

Margot toggled to a video player. “Does
she
look familiar?”

The jostling video clip started up as Margot hit the space bar, revealing a face so close to the screen you could see the crocodile pattern of his skin. It pulled away and revealed Ronny, smiling ear to ear. He talked to the camera in a raspy whisper. “Dudes, you’re not going to believe this fucking hot chick in my bed.”

He stepped aside to reveal a half-naked girl in the bed behind him. She lay on her back wearing only a pair of jeans, the dark skin of her breasts bare to the camera. Her eyes were half-open, mascara and liner smudged to full-scale raccoonage.

All the warmth drained out of Kitty’s body. “Oh my God,” she whispered, her throat constricting as if it didn’t want to say her name. “It’s Mika.”

“Mika?” Ronny asked, his voice slimy. “Do you want to make out with me?”

Mika nodded, reaching up for him. “Mm-hm.”

“What’s that?” he asked. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I want,” Mika panted. “Make out.”

Ronny pushed his lips to hers, planting a sloppy kiss all over her face.

Totally fucked up as she was, Mika kissed him back and pulled his body down on top of her. After a second, Ronny pushed himself up, and Kitty half-hoped he was going to do something decent, like cover her up and take her home.

Instead, he turned to the camera and gave an exaggerated thumbs-up while Mika began to paw at his shirt. “And that, gentlemen, is a wrap. You said I couldn’t bag a Cali girl within three months of getting here and I totally faced you. The bet is won. I believe you owe me a hundred dollars each, payable in cash. Suckas!”

Then he switched off the camera and the screen went blank.

SIX

KITTY FELT AS IF ALL THE AIR HAD BEEN SUCKED OUT OF HER
lungs as she stared at the computer, dumbstruck.

“Asshole!” Bree said, taking the word out of Kitty’s mouth. “Is that shit on the internet?”

Margot shook her head. “It was just a DVD. But it’s only a matter of time before it gets around.”

“How did you find it?” Olivia asked.

Margot tugged at the sleeves of her sweatshirt. “It was meant for Rex. He rammed into me at the assembly, and our bags went flying. The DVD must have gotten mixed up with my stuff.”

“We should call the police,” Kitty said through clenched teeth. “Can’t he be prosecuted?”

“He was smart,” Margot said. “Got Mika to ask him to make out with her, and didn’t film anything more incriminating than that. If she’d gone to the police or the hospital that day, maybe they could have done something. But as it is, I’m not even sure she knows the video exists.”

Kitty shot to her feet and started pacing the warehouse floor. “We can’t let that video go public. We have to do something.”

“Whoa,” Bree said. “I thought we had a rule? At least six weeks between missions to let the heat die down.”

Kitty raised her eyebrows. “Since when do you care about the rules?”

“Since never.” Bree walked up to the computer screen and clicked on Ronny’s Facebook page. “‘Ronny DeStefano,’” she read out loud. “‘Bishop DuMaine Preparatory School,’ blah-blah-blah.” She glanced up. “Oh, this guy’s a winner. ‘Religious views—chicks. Political views—lots of chicks.’”

Olivia recrossed her legs. “Well, this shouldn’t be too hard.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Margot said. She pulled a file folder out of her bag and handed it to Bree. “Address and personal information. Ronny moved in with his dad and stepmother last spring after abruptly leaving his old school in Arizona, a private reform institution called Archway Military Academy.”

Bree’s head snapped up. “Archway Military Academy?”

“You’ve heard of it?” Kitty asked.

“Yeah.” Bree paused. “Probably on the news or something.” She turned her focus back to her chipped polish.

Despite the casual action, Kitty noticed that Bree’s shoulders were tense and her breaths came more quickly than a moment before. Why had the name Archway bothered her?

Kitty filed the thought away for another time. It wasn’t important at the moment. If they were going to move against Ronny, they needed to get the ball rolling as soon as possible. “Time’ll be short on this one and we’ve got two main goals: delete the video and find a way to make Ronny pay.”

Margot nodded. “It’ll have to be done from his home computer, like we did with Coach Creed.” She glanced at Bree. “Which means you’ll have to break in.”

Bree rolled her eyes. “What else is new?”

“Margot will figure out the DeStefanos’ home security situation and I’ll start with background research,” Kitty continued rapidly. “Bree, do some recon. Find out where he hangs out and who his friends are.”

“Yay,” Bree said unenthusiastically. “You two get to sit at home on your computers while I hide in the bushes again.”

Kitty ignored her. “Olivia, initiate contact. Get his interest and keep it.”

Olivia squinted at Ronny’s profile photo. “Why can’t we ever have hot targets?”

“I’ll go with you,” Margot said. “I can try to clone his phone while you keep him occupied.”

“So we’re going to do this, right?” Kitty asked. “We’re all agreed?”

Olivia and Margot nodded, but Bree didn’t move.

“We
all
have to be on board,” Kitty said, more pointedly. “Breaking our timeline rule will make this mission even more dangerous.” She thrust her right hand forward.

“I, Kitty Wei, do solemnly swear, no secrets—ever—shall leave this square.”

Margot was beside her in an instant, her right arm extended.

“I, Margot Mejia, do solemnly swear, no secrets—ever—shall leave this square.”

Kitty grasped Margot’s wrist through the thick layer of her XXL sweater as Olivia extended her right arm with a ballerina’s elegance.

“I, Olivia Hayes, do solemnly swear, no secrets—ever—shall leave this square.”

Margot linked Olivia into the square, then all three of them turned to Bree. The square was incomplete without her presence—her wrist linked to Olivia, her hand grasping Kitty—and she knew it.

“Tell me something,” Bree said, her eyes suspicious. “Would you be asking us to do this if the victim wasn’t one of your best friends?”

“Honestly?” Kitty asked.

“No, lie to me.”

Kitty sighed. Bree was right: it was risky planning another mission this soon after their plot against Coach Creed, and she needed to remind everyone—herself included—of the stakes. “There’s a lot on the line if we get caught,” Kitty said. “We could get kicked out of school.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Bree muttered.

“But we started Don’t Get Mad for a reason—to seek justice for classmates who are too scared to speak up for themselves.” It was good to hear, good to remind herself why they put themselves on the line. “So I’d like to think that if I saw a video this horrific, victimizing someone I didn’t know, I’d have the same reaction.”

Bree stared at her for a moment, then without a word, she thrust her arm forward.

“I, Bree Deringer, do solemnly swear, no secrets—ever—shall leave this square.”

The square was complete, everyone was in agreement about the plan, but Kitty still looked each of them in the eye, just to make sure. She didn’t see a hint of doubt in anyone.

“Ronny’s a predator,” she said. “And we can stop him from hurting someone else.” Kitty thrust out her chin. “Don’t get mad!”

All four girls answered in strong, solid unison.

“Get even!”

SEVEN

OLIVIA SCANNED THE QUAD, TRYING TO LOOK CASUAL. THE
outdoor area teemed with groups of students enjoying lunch on a sunny Monday afternoon, and the air was filled with carefree giggles and chatter. It was a relaxed atmosphere for everyone except the four members of DGM.

Kitty sat on the edge of a planter beneath one of the enormous elm trees that dotted the grassy landscape, joined by Mika and several of their volleyball teammates. She seemed calm, but Olivia noted she avoided looking in her direction. Bree and John leaned against the wall of the science building, watching the crowd with their usual aloofness, but even from the other side of the quad, Olivia could see Bree’s foot tapping nervously against the concrete. Only Margot was nowhere in sight. She was scouting Ronny’s location, and as Olivia sat on the bench, sipping her diet soda, she kept her eye out for Margot’s signal, which would put the plan into motion.

“Is that
all
you’re eating for lunch?” Jezebel asked.

Olivia’s attention was pulled back to the lunch table, where Peanut had laid six celery sticks on a napkin and portioned out the contents of two slabs of low-calorie cheese spread among them. She topped each with a sprinkle of
fleur de sel
, produced from a tiny noncarcinogenic glass container, and a sprig of parsley.

Peanut picked up the nearest celery boat. “Yes. Mom says it’s the perfect balance of negative calories and good fats.”

Olivia was officially concerned about Peanut’s newest diet. “Won’t you be hungry in like an hour?”

“Mom says hunger pains are good.” Peanut took a dainty bite, chewed it at least a dozen times, then swallowed.

“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “I’m not sure that’s good for you.”

Peanut glanced at Olivia’s midsection. “Not all of us were born looking like a ballerina.”

“Yeah,” Jezebel said. “Some of you were born looking like a sumo wrestler.”

“Ha, ha,” Peanut mocked. She pointed at the prepackaged salad covered in cheese and thick dressing that sat in front of Jezebel. “Do you have any idea how many calories are in that thing?”

“Don’t know,” Jezebel said, taking a massive bite. “Don’t care.”

Peanut tucked her long, straight hair behind each ear. “Whatever. But I don’t want to hear you bitch when Mr. Cunningham casts you in a male part again.”

Olivia started. She’d forgotten that Mr. Cunningham would be announcing the play in fourth period.

“Better a man,” Jezebel said, her low voice more masculine than usual, “than no part at all.”

“Ladies!” A gleam of braces and a whiff of strong and probably needless aftershave were the only harbingers of the skinny sophomore who spun onto the bench between Peanut and Jezebel. He slipped an arm around both of them. “How are my first, fourth, and twelfth favorite juniors?”

“Hey, Ed.” Olivia couldn’t keep her eyes from lingering on his bulging backpack as she wondered what contraband he was peddling today.

“Twelfth?” Peanut pouted. “Which of us is twelfth?”

Jezebel refused to look at him. “Ed the Head. What ladies’ room did you crawl out of?”

Ed ignored her. “I’ve got a new shipment of junk food.” He glanced at Olivia and pumped his eyebrows. “Including those salted caramel chocolate balls
someone
is addicted to.”

Olivia gave Ed the Head a look that said, “Shut up before I pull your tongue out.” The last thing she wanted was for Jezebel and Peanut to find out about her junk food addiction. She’d never hear the end of Peanut’s lectures against processed food and Jezebel’s warnings that someday Olivia would get fat from all the crap she ate.

“Or if you lovelies are all maintaining your girlish figures,” he said, changing the subject, “I’ve also got a new batch of homework. Fresh off the nerd press. If you don’t have the cashola, I also accept”—he leaned into Jezebel—“sexual favors.”

“Ew?” Olivia said.

Jezebel elbowed him in the ribs. “Do you have any mind bleach to wipe that image from my brain?”

Ed the Head grinned broadly, flashing his full mouth of steel. “It’s called tequila. And I’m all out. Sold the last of it to your mom.”

Before Jezebel could formulate a response, Amber bounced onto the bench next to her. “What is that?” She sniffed the air, then wrinkled her nose like she’d entered a raw sewage treatment plant. “It smells like . . . dweeb.”

“That’s Mr. Dweeb to you.” Ed the Head straightened his shoulders. “Don’t you know it’s the age of the geek?”

Amber’s gaze was cold as ice. “Why are you here?”

A formidable shadow fell across the lunch table. “Yeah, why
are
you here?”

Ed the Head leaped to his feet as Rex, Kyle, and Tyler ringed the bench.

“Rex! Dude. Buddy.” Ed the Head twittered nervously.

Rex folded his arms across his chest. “You have ten seconds.”

“Er, right.” Ed the Head eyed Kyle and Tyler. “I’ve been looking for you guys all weekend.” He held out his hand expectantly. “Pony up.”

Without a word, Kyle and Tyler reached for their wallets. Each fished out several bills and reluctantly slapped them into Ed the Head’s palm.

Rex turned to Kyle. “What the fuck is going on?”

Ed the Head shoved the bills into his pocket and started to back away from the table. “Just a little bookmaking. I was running ten to one odds on DGM going balls out in response to our fearless leader’s assembly Friday. Kyle, Tyler, and several of your dutiful ’Maine Men bet against it. Oopsie.”

Rex balled up his fists and started after the retreating bookie. “You little shit.”

Olivia had seen enough. She stepped in front of him and laid her hand on his chest. “Let him go, Rex.”

Ed the Head saluted. “I am considerably out of here.”

It took a few seconds for Rex to wrest his gaze away from the rapidly departing figure of Ed the Head, but eventually his eyes strayed to Olivia’s hand.

“Fine,” he said softly. His body relaxed like a rubber band gone limp. “You know as well as I do, Liv, that I’d do anything you want.”

Olivia snatched her hand away. Seriously? He was flirting with her right in front of his girlfriend?

And Amber didn’t miss a second of it. Her expensively crafted nose was wrinkled in disgust as Olivia returned to the bench. “Going after Ed the Head, Livvie? Yeah, I’m sure that’ll bring Donté running back to you.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Rex said. He reached out to massage Amber’s shoulders, but she jerked away from him. “Come on, why are you pissed at me?”

Amber clenched her jaw but refused to answer.

“I’m not the bad guy here,” Rex said sharply. “We need to focus on the real enemy.”

“Which is?” Amber said without looking at him.

“DGM.” Rex leaned back against the lunch table. “We weren’t tough enough on them last year, and look what happened. First week back and
bam!
They hit us.” He slammed his fist into the tabletop. “We need to take matters into our own hands. Do whatever it takes to protect the school.”

Olivia didn’t like the anger in Rex’s voice.

“How?” Kyle asked.

“We can start by targeting possible suspects.” Rex stared across the courtyard. “Someone who consistently breaks the rules, even brags about it. Someone who has absolutely no respect for the name Bishop DuMaine and what it stands for.”

Olivia followed his line of sight across the courtyard to Bree.