The Naughty List (The Naughty List #1)(7)
Author: Suzanne Young

CHAPTER THREE

“PASS ME THE BOBBY PIN,” I SAID, CHEWING ON the corner of my lip as I fiddled with the padlock on Serena Santos’s metal school locker. I was glad it wasn’t a Master Lock—those suckers took forever to pick! Kira felt around in her blond curls for a second, then smiled as she pulled out a pin and handed it to me.

“Remembered it this time,” she said, beaming. Although Kira had called me about sixteen more times, her depression over Darren only lasted until about five this morning. I was proud of her bravery.

“Hurry, Tess,” she whispered, looking both ways down the hall. “The janitor will be here in twenty minutes.”

Sugarplum fairies! I’d better get to it.

I readjusted my stance, checking the half-lit walkway one last time before I inserted the metal pin into the padlock, twisting and turning it just right. It clicked.

Kira giggled. “I don’t know how you do that. I failed the lock-pick course three times.”

“I remember.” Poor Kira. She had a hard time learning new trades. Now, cheer routines? She was a pro at that.

“I bet Aiden would think it’s totally cute you can pick locks.”

My stomach turned as I looked over my shoulder at her. “Let’s not think about Aiden.”

She grinned, her dimples deepening in her cheeks. “Yeah. Good luck with that.”

Kira’s blue eyes twinkled as she wiggled her eyebrows at me. I couldn’t help it—I laughed. She was right: ignoring Aiden was impossible. And ignoring the guilt I felt for sneaking around was even harder.

“Hey,” she said, putting her arm over my shoulders. “Don’t look so down, Tess. I’m sure he’d understand if you just told him about SOS.”

Kira and the squad knew my inner turmoil about lying to Aiden. And even though they loved Aiden, it was too late for me to tell him the truth. I’d lied for too long. No, I’d just have to stick out the school year. SOS was the Smitten Kittens’ secret. I exhaled.

“We have work to do,” I said, and yanked open the locker with a metal clang.

Kira reached down to grab the equipment out of the backpack. She pulled out a jewelry-size black box and opened it, revealing the small GPS tracker that Leona had scored a few weeks ago with our frequent shopper’s discount.

I took the tiny tracking device from its package and peeled off the self-adhesive back. Then I stuck it in between the pages of Serena’s über-thick chemistry book.

SOS had been alerted that she was a “person of interest” in a new cheating incident. Apparently, Paul Masterson had been disappearing between seventh and ninth period every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So had Serena. Only, SOS hadn’t been able to find where they’d been sneaking off to, and we never accuse without proof. Even if the subjects cheated every time (which they did), we would never tell our clients that. They deserved for it to be definitive. One hundred percent. But it was always 100 percent bad news.

After the chip was settled between the pages, I turned to Kira. “Test it,” I said.

She pulled out the SOS phone, punching in the code with a series of beeps. Even though each of us had an encrypted cell, there was only one official SOS line. So at every meeting, we switched possession. It helped to make everyone feel included. Kira especially loved when it was her turn—total self-esteem boost.

There was a blip.

“Easy squeezy,” she said, holding up the phone to me. I watched the little red light flash, pinpointing our exact location.

I nodded. “All set.” I shut the locker, resetting the padlock, and grabbed up the pack from the linoleum floor. “What time is it?” I asked.

“Almost six.”

I groaned. “We’d better jet. Aiden will be at my house for breakfast at six thirty.”

There was a sound from behind us, and we froze. The janitor was never early! I put my finger to my lips, signaling for Kira to be quiet, and then we backed against the cold lockers, looking down the hall.

There were footsteps, along with the squeaky wheeling of a mop bucket. Double dang it!

“Shit,” Kira whispered. I gave her a dirty look and put my finger sternly in front of my lips again, shushing her.

The squeaking stopped. There was someone right around the corner, just yards away. My heart raced. If we were caught breaking into school, that would be a major violation. I didn’t have time for suspension. The playoffs were getting close. Oh, snapdragon! Please just let them leave.

Kira’s hand slid into mine. It was sort of sweaty.

Then there was a skidding sound, along with a sloshing, as the footsteps and squeaks went off in the direction they’d come from.

We waited until there was only the sound of the ticking furnaces and buzzing fluorescent bulbs before exchanging a glance. It was getting harder and harder to keep up this covert baloney. I missed just being a regular cheerleader. I missed worrying about high kicks instead of high jinks.

But I was a Smitten Kitten. I had responsibilities.

“Come on,” I said, dropping Kira’s hand. “I don’t want Aiden to get suspicious.” I jogged ahead toward the back double doors.

“Now that is a good-looking boy,” Kira whispered next to me in history class. “Heard he just transferred in from West Washington.”

I followed her devious stare over my shoulder to the boy in the back near the bookcase. He was new. Huh—that was odd. Principal Pelli hadn’t made me aware of any transferring students, and as head of the Washington High welcoming committee, I should have been informed. I twitched my nose.

“Yeah, I guess,” I said, turning back around. Mr. Powell was still at his podium in an animated discussion about the former Soviet Union. It was making my head hurt. He’d obviously had some pent-up anger about the Cold War, whenever that was.

“You guess?” Kira kicked at my sneaker under the table. “Look at that hair! He looks like that surfer I dated last summer. Remember him?”

Of course I remembered him. I had seen his sandy rear when I walked in on them at Leona’s parents’ beach house.

I exhaled and turned again. Sure, he did have that chin-length, chocolaty-cute hair that perfectly framed his strong jaw line. And okay, there were his eyelashes: long and curled, accentuating the soft olive tone of his smooth skin. But—

Suddenly he looked up, staring directly at me. My mouth fell open for a second in surprise, but I snapped it shut and offered a polite smile. He grinned. Slowly, and slightly mortified, I turned in my seat and dropped my head.