Page 23 of The Jack*ss in Class

“He wasn’t—” I started, but my phone chose that moment to buzz.

Six heads immediately craned to read over my shoulder. It wasn’t like it was going to be Flynn. He didn’t even have my number. Not sure why I was thinking it was going to be him, or why I was blushing like I was caught doing something naughty.

“Not flirting, huh?” Hannah smirked.

“It’s just my family group chat.” I clutched my phone to my chest, but it was too late. The damage was done.

“Ladies,” Bettie announced with the air of someone opening a chapter meeting, “I believe we need to add Operation Get Tempest a Social Life to our agenda.”

“No,” I said firmly. “No operations. No agendas. No Flynn.”

The donkey brayed, clearly disagreeing with me.

Traitor.

The knock at the door made us all freeze. The donkey, bless his heart, chose that moment to sneeze.

“Tempest?” My eldest sister’s voice carried through the door with all the authority of a Victorian governess. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

“Catalina?” I whispered in horror. Then louder, “Just a minute.”

The sisters sprang into action like a well-rehearsed ballet. Hannah and Alice whisked the donkey into Parker’s closet while Bettie grabbed a bottle of air freshener, and Parker opened the door to our balcony. I opened the door just wide enough to slip out onto the landing our rooms connected to.

Catalina stood there in her signature pristine white suit, carrying what looked like color-coded designer Tupperware and a crisp canvas bag with books andflowers printed on it. I think the bag... and maybe the food containers were Spate Kade.

She wrinkled her nose. “Why does it smell like a barn covered in fake lavender?”

“New air freshener.” I tried to block her view of my room. “What are you doing here?”

“You’ve missed three Sunday dinners.” She thrust the stack of food containers at me. “Mamá’s in Ecuador, Papá’s with her working on his book, and you’re avoiding family dinner. Someone had to check if you’d been devoured by your literature textbooks.”

“I’ve been busy with?—”

“Senior year, yes, I know.” She looked me up and down, taking in my coffee-stained sweater and messy bun. “Though apparently not too busy for...” She gestured vaguely at my entire existence.

From inside my room came a suspicious thump, followed by Parker’s too-loud laugh.

Catalina’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose. “Do I want to know?”

“Just study group.” I hugged the food containers closer. “Thanks for the food. I’ll come to dinner this Sunday, promise.”

“Wait.” She pulled something from her bag. “I brought you this too. Since you’re always quoting Shakespeare like Papá, I thought you might enjoy a... modern interpretation.”

My heart stopped. There, in my sister’s manicured hands, was my first book. The one based onThe Taming of the Shrew. Maybe, possibly, probably, I’d gotten a little of the inspiration for the heroine from my own sharp-tongued, quick-tempered eldest sister. The same one who was narrowing her eyes at me right at this very moment.

“Have you read it?” she asked. “Everyone at my boutique is obsessed. They all want me to read it. Says I’ll relate to the main character.”

Another thump from my room, followed by a sound that was definitely not human.

“What was that?” Catalina tried to peer around me.

“Studying.” I grabbed the book. “Thanks, Cat. Really. I’ll try it.”

“Try to tame that hair too,” she said, already turning to go. “Oh, and Freddie says to tell you she’s sorry about something involving wings? I didn’t ask. I’ve learned not to ask with her.”

She turned on her heel and if the flooring hadn’t been carpet, her heels would have clacked to announce her every step. I waited until she disappeared down the stairs before sagging against the door. When I went back inside, I found five sorority sisters and one baby donkey all trying to look innocent.

“Oh my gosh,” Hannah said, peering at the book in my hands. “Is that the hockey romance based onThe Taming of the Shrew? It’s book one in that spicy rom-com series and I just finished book three.”

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