Page 108 of The Jack*ss in Class

“Everyone knows,” I said numbly. “Everyone.”

My phone buzzed again. Flynn.

Flynn: Are you okay? Tell me where you are, I’m coming to you.

I stared at his message, tears blurring my vision. Part of me desperately wanted him there, wanted his strength as I faced the storm. But another part, the part that had been keeping secrets for so long, wanted to hide, forever, from everyone.

Mamá: If you don’t respond, I’m calling the university.

I looked back at Flynn’s message, my thumb hovering over the screen. Did I want him to watch as everything I’d feared came true?

The phone trembled in my hand.

Mamá: I’m booking a flight. Your father and I will be home tomorrow.

KINGMAN FAMILY GAME NIGHT TO THE RESCUE

FLYNN

The KAT house was surrounded.

I counted at least three news vans and a dozen people with cameras and microphones crowded near the front steps. Students clustered in small groups at the edges, smartphones raised, whispering as they recorded the scene. This wasn’t just campus gossip anymore, this was a full-blown media circus.

I parked a block away and texted Parker.

Me: Outside. How do I get in without the vultures or Mrs. H. seeing?

Her response came instantly.

Parker: By the kitchen. Use secret knock. Three knocks, wait for the same, two knocks, wait for the same, one knock. A sister will let you in.

I circled around, keeping my head down, hoodie pulled up. Years of dealing with sports media had taughtme how to move without drawing attention. Still, my heart hammered against my ribs. Not for myself, for Tempest. She’d spent years hiding her identity, carefully separating her worlds. Now those worlds were colliding in the most public way possible.

Parker was waiting at the service entrance, her expression grim.

“Thank god,” she whispered, pulling me inside. “It’s been insane. They started showing up an hour ago.”

“How is she?” I asked, following Parker through the kitchen where several sorority sisters were huddled in strategy mode.

“Not good.” She led me up the back stairs. “She’s barely said a word since she got back from campus. The whole senior class is with her, but...” She trailed off, her meaning clear.

Parker did that same secret knock and someone opened the door, ushering me in quickly. The room was dimly lit, blinds drawn against prying eyes. Tempest sat on her bed, surrounded by her sorority sisters, their protective circle unable to shield her from what was happening.

“Flynn.” My name on her lips was barely audible.

I crossed the room in three strides, crouching in front of her. Her face was pale, eyes red-rimmed from crying. I took her hands in mine, relieved when she didn’t pull away.

“Hey,” I said softly. “I’m here.”

Her fingers tightened around mine. “They know,” she whispered. “Everyone knows.”

“Not for sure, and not everyone,” Parker interjectedfrom her command center of laptops. “But those rats posted your student ID with links to your sorority profile and built a pretty convincing case connecting you to Miranda Milan. Once the first post went viral, bloggers ran with it.”

She swiveled in her chair. “On the plus side, there are so many competing theories online now that there’s reasonable doubt. This Mint Milan squad really came through with the misinformation campaign.”

I had a feeling I knew exactly who that squad was, and I was buying them all flowers, or cookies or something later.

“My mother texted,” Tempest said, her voice hollow. “She and my father are flying in tomorrow. She’s... not happy.”

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