Get Even (Don’t Get Mad)

KITTY WAS FIDGETY AS SHE DROVE TO SCHOOL THE NEXT morning, unable to get Ronny DeStefano out of her head.

Phase one was complete—they had Ronny’s hard drive. Now they just needed some juicy tidbit of a secret on his computer that they could use against him. But time was short. How long would it be before he realized his video had been deleted? Maybe it had been a mistake to jump so quickly into this mission without a complete plan of action? It was so unlike her to do so, but with Mika’s reputation on the line, she hadn’t really had a choice.

Kitty turned onto DuMaine Drive, and instantly all thoughts of Ronny DeStefano faded away.

At least half a dozen police cruisers lined the streets around campus. An officer stood sentry at the main entrance, and as she pulled into the upperclassmen’s parking lot, she found another officer at the side door.

For a split second, Kitty thought about fleeing the scene. She could pretend to be sick, tell her mom she had food poisoning, fake a migraine, anything that would get her out of school for the day. There could only be one reason for the police, one thing that could bring them to campus for the second time in less than a week. Father Uberti had found out who was behind DGM.

Logic kicked in almost immediately. Why would they wait to arrest her at school? Wouldn’t they show up at her house and bring her in for questioning? Taking a deep breath, Kitty pulled into her usual parking spot.

Four police officers ringed Mrs. Baggott’s desk as Kitty entered the office to prep the morning announcements. Their eyes were alert and the walkies attached to their shoulders crackled with unceasing chatter.

Father Uberti pointed his finger menacingly at the school secretary. “I don’t care what the Archdiocese says. If they won’t do anything, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

“Of course, Father,” Mrs. Baggott said, eyeing the police officers.

Father Uberti’s head whipped around as soon as Kitty approached. “No announcements today,” he barked. “I’m taking care of it.”

John was already at his desk for first-period religion when Bree plopped into her chair.

“Why does school have to start so early?” she asked, stifling a yawn. She hadn’t slept well after her experience in Ronny’s bedroom, unable to shake the feeling that someone had seen her in the house. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, convinced the cops would kick down her door any moment and take her into custody.

“Think of it this way,” he said, tossing a lock of hair out of his eyes. “Every day when you mosey in five seconds before the bell, I’ve already been here for half an hour.”

“Bite me,” Bree said.

The final bell rang and, much to Bree’s surprise, Sister Augustinia, their perpetually late religion teacher, was already at her desk, looking pale and fretful.

“Settle down, class,” she said, the usual airy-fairiness gone from her voice. She sounded almost hoarse, as if she’d been screaming. Or crying. “We have a special announcement coming from Father Uberti.”

Bree went rigid. A special announcement? Did that mean he’d gotten credible information on Don’t Get Mad?

There was no time to speculate, no time to worry or even plan an escape route. The loudspeaker buzzed to life.

“Attention, students of Bishop DuMaine Preparatory School,” Father Uberti began. “Last night, a member of our student body was found dead in his home. The scene is being investigated as a homicide. The victim’s name is Ronny DeStefano.”