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This can’t be good.
We start on stretches. I’m warming up my hamstrings when Principal Foster comes over. “Miss Malloy, you need to come with me.”
“Can I ask why?”
Her lips purse. “We’re administering a random drug test.”
Hands on hips, haughty expression in place, I size up the principal. Mackenzie Malloy doesn’t stand for this treatment. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. It’s standard practice for athletes competing at the college level. As the cheerleading team will represent our school at the state competition next month, this applies to you, and you agreed to it when you signed the Stonehurst charter. If you could step this way, it won’t take long.”
I think of the weed I smoked earlier. I narrow my eyes at Principal Foster. Behind her shoulder, Cleo cannot hide her smirk. “Why am I the only one being tested?”
“As I said, this is a random drug test, and you’ve been—”
“It doesn’t feel very random to me. Why don’t you test Cleo? You don’t get cheekbones like hers without a steady diet of heroin.”
“Miss Malloy, if you refuse to take the test, I have to drop you from the team—”
“I’m not refusing. I just don’t believe I should be the only one taking it.” Mrs. Anderson reaches for my bag, but I yank it out of reach. “Watch it. I’ve got private stuff in here.”
“Ms. Malloy—”
“Oh, Principal Foster.” Cleo beams at me as she hands her bag over. “If it will make Mackenzie feel more comfortable, I’m happy to submit to a random search and test.”
Principal Foster glowers at me as she hands Cleo’s bag to the officer, who paws through it. She frowns as she draws out a small bag of white powder. “Ms. St. James, can you explain this?”
Cleo’s face goes white. “That’s not mine.”
“Then explain how it came to be in your possession.”
“I—” Cleo’s eyes land on my smirking face. Her mouth twists into an ugly scowl. “She must’ve planted it to frame me.”
Principal Foster tsked. “Ms. St. James, I’m disappointed. The whole reason we were called down here today was to address your concerns about drug use on the team. Since Ms. Malloy had no knowledge of our random test, she cannot be responsible for slipping drugs into your possession. This is not the behavior of a senior role model. You’d better come with me.”
“But, it’s not mine,” Cleo yells. “It’s Mackenzie’s. It was in her bag and—”
As Cleo is marched off the field, I wave cheerfully. The remaining cheerleaders glare at me. They were all in on it. Bitches. Well, they learned something tonight – don’t try to plant drugs on Mackenzie Malloy. I caught onto what they were doing as soon as Daphne brushed up against me, and I slipped the baggie into Cleo’s pouch before I joined them on the field.
Gabriel’s waiting for me after practice. One look at my face and he shakes his head sadly.
“We’re not having hot tub shenanigans tonight, are we?”
I lean into his shoulder as I whip out my phone and text Eli and Noah. “Cleo just tried to plant drugs on me.”
Gabriel lets out a string of beautifully poetic British profanity. My phone beeps. It’s Eli. He says he’ll swing around to school and pick us up. (Gabriel usually leaves his car behind because his place is walking distance from school.)
“We need to get together to strategize,” I say. “We want to teach Alec and Cleo that they can’t do whatever they want to people without consequences. The thing about that is that people like them can. They’ll always have Daddy’s money to bail them out. Cleo’s parents are probably in Principal Foster’s office right now, writing a check for a new tennis court to make this go away.”
“I believe it.” Gabriel lifts an eyebrow. “I take it you have a plan?”
“I thought hurting Alec’s face would wound him, but he’s got enough money to just keep repairing it. I have a feeling the desert isn’t the first time he’s tried to take without permission, and I don’t want a woman to ever feel afraid of him again. We need to take away the one thing he values over everything – his fame – so people aren’t afraid of him anymore. That’s how we destroy and take away his power.” I rub my hands together. “This is going to be fun.”
Mackenzie
“You’re ready for this?” Gabriel nudges me, his grey eyes sparkling with mischief.
It’s Thursday night, and the three of us are in the parking lot of the Emerald Beach country club, facing rows of fancy-ass sports cars and giant, gleaming SUVs. Since Gabe paid off the security guard to abandon his post for an hour, the lot is empty apart from us and a few goths smoking weed in the bushes. Everyone else is inside watching the regional tennis match. As I stand here, Alec LeMarque is running and sweating in tiny white shorts, with not a clue what will await him when he returns to his car.
