Page 54 of The Jack*ss in Class

And then chaos erupted as a baby donkey wearing a KAT bandanna burst into the ceremony, followed by a very startled-looking Flynn.

“Is that...” Rosalind’s eyes went wide. “Tempest, why is there a donkey in the sorority house?”

“Would you believe it’s our new mascot?” I managed weakly.

The donkey trotted straight to the podium and began nibbling on the national president’s dress. Well, at least he had good taste in fashion.

If I knew how to faint on command, I would. Right now. But knowing my life, I’d swoon right into the arms of Flynn Kingman.

KINGMANS IN THE HOUSE

FLYNN

Iwas trying my best to pay attention to the president lady’s talk, but something kept niggling at my attention. No way she actually had that donkey in the house, right?

So I quietly moved toward this strange sound that was suspiciously familiar. Like the bray of a certain farm animal I knew. When I opened the door, I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t a scared and bolting baby donkey wearing a KAT bandanna.

I’d faced down three-hundred-pound offensive lineman and stared into the bright lights of Sports Channel cameras, but nothing prepared me for the fastest feet west of the Mississippi, galloping through a room full of sorority sisters, their alumnae, and my father, right in the middle of the award ceremony that was supposed to get me in deeper with Tempest.

The national sorority president was finishing her speech about Mom’s legacy of embracing life’s chaos with grace. But all eyes in the room swung toward me, onceagain, chasing a baby donkey. My dad watched with his signature stone-faced WTF expression. The one that had terrorized two decades of college athletes.

“Flynn Kingman,” the National KAT President, snapped as the donkey knocked over the display featuring Mom’s old KAT photos. “Of all the nights for one of your infamous Kingman disruptions?—”

Behind her, Mrs. Henderson, the house mother, turned an alarming shade of purple. Tempest stood frozen in horror, and I knew I had to do something. Fast.

Think, Kingman. The same instinct that helped me read plays on the field kicked in. Only this time, instead of protecting my quarterback, I needed to protect Tempest.

I lunged for the donkey, but the little escape artist sidestepped me with surprising agility. Defensive training since I was five, and I was being outmaneuvered by a baby farm animal.

“Dr. Sterling,” Tempest said, clearly trying to maintain her composure as I circled the refreshment table trying to knab the little stinker. “I can explain?—”

The donkey darted left, snatching a cucumber sandwich. Little bugger wasn’t scared, he was hungry.

The national president adjusted her designer glasses with a perfectly manicured finger. “I’m waiting.”

Another grab, another miss. The donkey was making me look like a rookie. This didn’t bode well for the combine. If any of the scouts saw me now, I’d never get drafted.

“You see,” she squeaked, “I’ve been volunteering at the animal sanctuary.”

The donkey brayed victoriously and knocked over a crystal punch bowl. “And their main barn flooded.”

“Young lady,” Dr. Sterling cut Tempest off, “this is completely unacceptable. In my thirty years with KAT?—”

“He’s mine,” I blurted out and finally snagged the baby donkey, getting the bandanna and using it like a collar. I also grabbed another cucumber sandwich and led my hungry friend to position myself between Tempest and the president. “I convinced some of the sisters to help me temporarily house him. They had nothing to do with this.”

Tempest’s head snapped toward me, her eyes wide. I gave her a subtle wink before turning back to face judgment.

“And you thought a sorority house was an appropriate location for livestock?” Dr. Sterling’s voice could have frozen hell.

“No, ma’am.” I flashed my most charming smile and blinked up at her. “But I only recently found out my mother was a KAT at UCLA, and I hoped because of their reputation for philanthropy, they’d take pity on me and my poor, homeless, orphaned, adorable baby donkey.”

“Just like your mother,” Dr. Sterling said, and despite her stern tone, I caught a glimmer of something softer in her eyes. “April could turn any momentous occasion into an adventure. Though even she never managed to smuggle livestock into an award ceremony in her honor.”

Dad cleared his throat. “To be fair, Vicky, there was that incident with the mariachi band and the piglet during finals week when she was a junior.”

“Bridger Kingman, don’t you dare bring that up right now.”

“Ma’am? Did you... know April De la Reine personally?” Tempest asked.

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