Page 41 of The Jack*ss in Class

“Maybe she finally snapped,” Freddie suggested. “It’s about damn time.”

“Or maybe,” Rosalind said meaningfully, “it has something to do with a certain football player who carried her home.”

I lifted my head. “How do you know about that?”

“Please.” She stirred whatever heavenly torture was in that pot. “I still have my sources at the KAT house. Someone texted me the video.”

“Which video?”

“Several.” Freddie finally looked up from her laptop. “But don’t worry, the one of you teaching the rugby team to say ‘ Kingman tiene un trasero que no para’ is my favorite.”

I was never drinking again.

“Remember when she used to be fun?” Ophelia asked no one in particular.

“Nope.” Ros shook her head and crossed her arms.

“Yes,” Catalina wagged her finger. “When we all spent summers at Abuela’s villa Oaxaca, Nerdy Spice here was fun.”

Oh mierda. Catalina knew. Of course she did.

“Before Mamá decided we needed to ‘develop our interests into sustainable careers’ or whatever and sent us to academic summer programs.”

“You mean before she wanted alone time with Papá,” Ophelia corrected.

“Can you blame her?” Freddie waggled her eyebrows. “Have you seen the way she looks at Papá in his professor tweed? Or when he tells her he wants to play doctor with her later when he thinks we aren’t listening?”

“¡Cállate!” we all shouted, throwing dish towels and oven mitts at her.

Ophelia set a steaming bowl of pozole in front of me. “When’s the last time you really relaxed, Tem? And don’t say ‘when I’m reading’ because we all know that’s just like Papá, work disguised as pleasure, Miss Literature Major, following in his footsteps.”

I stared into my bowl, stomach churning for reasons that had nothing to do with my hangover. If they only knew how much work it really was. I picked up my spoon, mostly to have something to do with my hands. “Can we talk about something else? Like Abuela’s welcome home party?”

“Nice try.” Catalina sat across from me. “But we’re not letting this go. Something’s up with you. You’re stressed,it looks like you’re not sleeping. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those ojeras you try to hide, and now you’re getting drunk at frat parties?”

“Hockey house,” I corrected weakly.

“Not the point.” She reached for my hand. “Go back to Oaxaca for spring break. Abuela would love it, and you clearly need the escape. Mamá won’t even know, she’s too busy with her clinic in Ecuador to track our whereabouts.”

“I can’t. I have... commitments.”

“What commitments?”

If they only knew. The book deadline. The meetings in L.A. The secret baby donkey living in my room.

“Spring break at Abuela’s villa would do you good,” Ophelia said. “Remember that time we helped the magician sneak into her gated community when she wanted to surprise us with a birthday party?”

Despite everything, I smiled. “And that poker tournament she and Abuelo Leo organized for the neighborhood kids?”

“Where you won three hundred dollars off the ambassador’s son?” Freddie laughed. “Abuelo always bragged about that to his friends.”

“Or about the salsa lessons from AbuelaNovela’s former co-star,” Ophelia added with a waggle of her brows.

“Or the time Freddie and Abuelo Leo took—” Catalina cut off as my phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen, then immediately wished I hadn’t.

Flynn: How you feeling today?

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