Rebel Princess

by Lynn Stevens

  “Yeah,” said another dancer in the back. “She told me to lose ten pounds in two days.”

  “Last year, she ordered my costume to be taken in two inches so I would have no choice but to starve myself by opening night,” a sophomore said, stepping forward. “She’s the worst. There’s working hard, then there’s killing yourself for someone else. I thought about transferring last year.”

  “I almost did,” one of the younger male dancers said. He shook his head, his long blond hair flowing around his sharp features. “She told me real men don’t have long hair. I chose to ignore her jabs, but they still got to me. I took three inches off last year.”

  “You’re all just jealous,” Claire said, lifting her chin high. “Because you didn’t get the lead, you want to take down Madame? That’s childish, even for you, Emerald.”

  “Are you not listening? The rest of the class agrees with me.” I couldn’t believe Claire’s audacity. “This isn’t about getting the lead or about getting first place or beating any other dancer. This is about being treated like a human being and not chattel. Jesus, Claire, she told you to get plastic surgery. How is that not abusive?”

  The door opened and closed behind me. An inner groan stayed, thankfully, in my throat. I turned, expecting to see Madame Gutherie. When I saw who stood there, relief and surprise battled each other for dominance. Mrs. Churnblast, Madame Gutherie’s second, smiled sadly.

  “Hello, class,” Mrs. Churnblast said. “I regret to inform you Madame Gutherie will not be returning. She sends her regards. I will be leading you the rest of the semester. Now, let’s stretch. We still have a performance to prepare for this year.”

  There was a lightness, a freedom, to the class. I danced better than I had in years. Claire and Ceci simply glowed. Not that Mrs. Churnblast didn’t have any criticisms, but she delivered them with grace instead of sarcasm. And we responded. After the grueling three hours, we gathered our things to head toward lunch and afternoon classes. The rest of the class talked and joked with each other. I stayed silent as they shuffled out.

  Then I was alone with Mrs. Churnblast.

  “She’s a good woman,” Mrs. Churnblast said as she turned to face me. “Perhaps she was old-fashioned in her approach, but she truly wanted you to be the best.”

  “Maybe,” I said, not doubting her sincerity. “Will she be back?”

  Mrs. Churnblast laughed. “No, she’s already packed her office by now. Dean Stubbins didn’t give her much of a choice.”

  “All because of my article?”

  “It was the nail in the coffin, but no.” She shook her head and smiled in a sweet, unassuming way. So different than the glare of Madame Gutherie. “I’ve been here for a long time, Emerald. Madame was never easy and offended many. Your article made it public. With the complaints already on file, Dean Stubbins didn’t have much of a choice. She let Madame resign with dignity.”

  I nodded. That was good, at least.

  “Emerald, whatever your path is, remember there are people in the way. People who may not be as strong as you think.” Mrs. Churnblast turned and strolled from the room.

  I stared at the door as it clicked closed. Perhaps she was right. I should’ve thought of how my actions would’ve affected Madame Gutherie. But how much more damage would she have done if she had stayed? Despite what I did to help end her career, she had laid the groundwork. She had done this to herself. I had only exposed her.

  That was my true calling.

  It was time to put my plan into action. It was time to show the world what the lacrosse team had done.

  It was time to expose their world.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I still knew Colin’s email password. He wasn’t stupid, but I doubted he remembered to change it. It wasn’t something most people would think about after a bad break up. Of course, most people wouldn’t share it either. That was really what started all this. Colin might think I’m a woman scorned out to destroy him, but the truth was much more than that. He had gotten away with too much simply because his dad was a dean. I’d seen it firsthand.

  The finality to our relationship wasn’t the cheating on me, it was the cheating on everyone else. He’d asked me to review a paper he wrote. It didn’t take long to realize he hadn’t written a single word. Objectification wasn’t in his vocabulary, and he certainly had no issues objectifying women. His paper on women’s rights was not his.

  So I started digging into his email. That was where the story started. I forwarded all of the conversations about buying papers and tests to my own email, then I deleted them in the sent folder. Colin wasn’t stupid. Getting into the other emails had been harder, but I managed to get into the accounts of two other players, both Colin’s roommates. Both of them left their computers unlocked and had saved their passwords, so all I had to do was click to get into them. I forwarded what I could, covered my tracks again.

  Then I reached out to the person selling the information. He was quick to come forward.

  My fatal mistake then was to not run with the story. I felt I needed more information. Of course, shortly after I had all that, I walked in on Colin mid-thrust with another woman. He didn’t even bother to stop as he smiled at me.

  Two days later, I was locked out of my email. When I finally got back into it, all the emails were gone. Everything I had found had been wiped clean. In my overconfidence, I had failed to back anything up. I’d spent my summer trying to rebuild it all.

  Colin’s old emails had been deleted. Maybe he hadn’t deleted anything from this semester. I glanced around the Labyrinth. Logging in might’ve been a good idea, but I wasn’t about to do it on my PC. The few students I saw were deep in their own thoughts. Anybody who walked by would just assume I was checking my own email.

  I took the chance and logged in. After ten minutes, I found what I was looking for in the trash file. There was a new person they bought papers from. I wrote down the email address first. Pen and paper still came in handy. Then I did what I should’ve done the first time. I forwarded the emails to my private, non-campus account. I also screenshotted them and backed them up to my personal cloud. None of this was accessible by campus IT.

  Colin’s emails weren’t enough. I needed more. And I needed a plan.

  Delilah’s devious when she wanted to be, and she was all in on this scheme. Three days later, I’d bought a mini-camera and an all-black ensemble—approved spy-wear according to my fashionable roommate—and had a plan.

  “Stop moving,” Delilah snapped, despite the pins in her mouth. “I need to fix this hem, or you’ll look like a ragdoll at the ball Saturday.”

  “Can’t you do this later?” I gritted through my teeth. “I need to get ready.”

  Delilah grunted her disapproval and kept pinning. After another ten minutes of agony, she finally stepped back and grinned.

  “Perfect.” She circled around me, muttering under her breath about the lay of the fabric and the shimmering glow. “You’re going to love it.” She paused and stopped in front of me. “When I’m done.”

  “I can’t see it now?” I started to turn, but Delilah stopped me with a pointed stare. “Why not?”

  “Because one, you’re going to love it, and two, I want to surprise you.” She held up three fingers as if she was going to add another reason, then she dropped her hand. “Anyway, you get a general idea by the material. You’ll get the full effect on Saturday.”

  I glanced down at the shimmering green silky material draped down my body. Emerald green mixed with gold. It reminded me of the Caribbean, pirates, and mermaids. It didn’t feel like it was even there. I shivered at the bareness of the fabric.

  The bells of the Church of Perpetual Sorrows rang in the distance. They rang at eight in the morning, then noon, three, six, and nine at night. I smiled to myself.

  Quinn still hadn’t apologized. The ball was in his court so to speak. It was up to him to hit it back or let it go flat. My heart still ached. What we had was brief, but it was pow
erful. I didn’t want to lose it, but I wasn’t about to compromise my principles. He jumped to conclusions for whatever reason. He cut me off. I did what I could to make it right.

  The final bell rang, and I shook thoughts of Phillip Quinn from my head. Delilah helped me out of the dress I wasn’t allowed to see, and then gave me room to get ready for my plans. I’d kept her mostly in the dark. If I got caught, she, she can plead innocence.

  That was one big if in a world of ifs.

  Delilah knew my plans could get me suspended. She didn’t need to know I might get arrested and expelled. She would do what any best friend would do: try to stop me. Or come up with bail money. For Delilah, it was probably both. I didn’t want her to have to do anything to jeopardize her scholarships.

  I dressed in sleek black leggings and a black jogging jacket. It was all so Mission Impossible of me. I added a fanny pack with a little camera and a flashlight. To top it all off, I clipped a tiny recorder to my collar. It looked like an ugly broach my grandmother might wear on a night out with the girls. A large lily with green leaves and several fake diamonds hid the camera’s lens quite well, despite the gaudiness of it all. It would video everything I saw, once I turned it on, and send the recording to my phone.

  Hopefully.

  I decided to give it a little test run just to be sure. Standing in front of my mirror, I pinched the sides of the camera to start it.

  “Okay, testing. I feel like I should say something meaningful.” I pulled at my long ponytail nervously. “Delilah, if you see this, I probably got arrested. I’m sorry I kept you in the dark. I have to do this. One thing I learned in my short friendship with Quinn was that I had to go for it. And I have to stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. Or they don’t even know they need someone to stand up for them.” I shook my head as a jumble of thoughts filled my brain and slipped out of my lips. “I mean, these guys are taking away opportunities for other people. Colin’s got his athletic scholarship, but he’s also gotten several academic ones too. And he’s cheating. People have a right to know.”

  “Hey, you okay?” Delilah said as she knocked on my door before entering. “I heard you talking to someone in here.”

  I pressed the camera to stop it and smiled at my friend. “Just myself. I was thinking I needed a black ski cap for this caper.”

  “A black ski cap would be overkill.” Delilah glanced over her shoulder. “You have a visitor.”

  I raised my eyebrows, which she mimicked.

  “I’ll make myself scarce.” Delilah winked and hurried away from the door.

  I expected one of the girls from the dance troupe. Instead, I saw the one person I hoped to see. Quinn stood by the couch with his large hands in the pockets of his worn jeans. They tucked haphazardly into his brown work boots, which were caked with mud along the sole. His eyes penetrated me as I stepped toward him. The army green Henley hugged his arms in all the right places.

  “Hi.” I tried to find a place for my hands, but I didn’t have pockets, so I ended up crossing my arms over my chest. Then I dropped them. I didn’t want to fight.

  “I’m sorry,” Quinn said. He freed one hand from his pocket and ran it through his disheveled brown hair. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

  No, you shouldn’t have. I pursed my lips to keep my mouth shut.

  “The shelter’s my home, Emerald. It saved me when I didn’t know I needed saving.” Quinn pulled his other hand free and stepped toward me, gripping my elbows gently. “Just like Father Rossi.” His finger brushed over my lips. “Just like you.”

  My breath hitched in my throat.

  “I’d shut myself off from … everything, everyone that wasn’t connected with the small life I’d created around the shelter and the church.” He shrugged and smiled. “Then this firestorm of a woman came into my world not once, but twice. Once to remind me why I’d ever joined the army to begin with, and twice to remind me I didn’t need to be alone.”

  “Why’d you join?” I whispered against his still caressing fingers.

  “To help people.” His hand moved to cup my face, and I leaned into him. “I didn’t realize by saving you, I’d save myself. Will you forgive me? For being such an ass?”

  “On one condition,” I said as I inhaled his cedarwood scent. “Next time, you have to talk to me and not jump to conclusions.”

  Quinn’s lips pressed on my cheek, then moved to my lips. I opened for him completely, letting him feel how much I missed him. My arms wound around his neck as his fingers dug into my hips.

  “Deal,” he said as he pulled back.

  I lifted onto my toes and kissed his nose. “Good.”

  A voice cleared from the other side of the room. We both turned toward my roomie, who leaned against the door jamb of her room. She tapped her wrist where a watch would be if she ever bothered to put one on.

  I closed my eyes for a minute. When I opened them, I met Quinn’s hard gaze.

  “Are you late for something?” he asked with a chill to his voice.

  “Yes, actually,” I said, giving as good as I got. “I need to … run an errand that can’t wait.”

  “Now?” he asked, his arms tightening around me.

  “I’m sort of on a deadline.” I lifted on my toes again and pressed a quick but passionate kiss to his lips. “Trust me, please.”

  His eyes softened. “I do. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

  I smirked, but I didn’t say a word. Stupid was definitely in the cards. I just had to make sure I didn’t get caught.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Quinn wasn’t ready to let me leave. We still had a lot to talk about, but I needed to finish this investigation off. Over the last few weeks, I realized I didn’t have the passion to compete as a dancer. I loved dancing. It didn’t mean I’d give it up entirely, but making it my career, my future, wasn’t going to happen. There were plenty of Madame Gutheries out there, some worse. Maybe journalism was the way to go. I did love a good fight.

  And this was all-out war.

  My dancing skills helped me sneak across campus unseen. Maybe spying was my ultimate job. Nah, I wasn’t about to keep my mouth shut, and spies needed to be quiet. I tugged on a ski cap and covered my forehead. Ridiculous, yes, but I didn’t want to do this half-assed. It looked right.

  The administration building was dark, except for a light or two left on by hurried employees. The top floor, my destination, was completely dark. I closed my eyes and wrapped my fingers around a St. Jude medal my grandmother gave me when I was sixteen. The meaning was lost on me. At sixteen, I was a little wild.

  Lord, grant me the strength to do what is right, even if it involves doing what is wrong.

  I inhaled deeply and tucked the medal into my pocket. It was go-time. Security roamed the premises, but it wasn’t like this was Fort Knox. I snuck around back to the loading dock. A rock propped the door open. Idiots. They all have keys. I guessed the guards assumed the only people who would break in were students trying to steal tests or scores. The professors kept their offices in their departments at other buildings. Those were probably locked down tight. The admin building, not so much.

  The door creaked louder than expected, but my ears made it sound way worse. I hurried inside, helping the door close quietly behind me. It took my eyes a few minutes to adjust. I’d scoped out the admin’s blueprints at the library. The building was basic enough. Offices on every floor. Registrar’s office on the first floor. Student counseling and admissions on the second. The third floor was my final destination. That was where the athletic director’s office was located. Along with the associate deans’ offices. Dean Franks had the entire fourth floor to himself.

  I took the back stairs two at a time, again grateful for my years of conditioning for dance. My breath remained steady and calm by the time I reached the door to the third floor. Before I opened it, I ran through my mind where the offices were located. At the far end on the left was Director Shepherd’s office.
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  Doubt clouded my thoughts. If this didn’t work, I was screwed. Deep in my gut, I knew the director had to be aware of the cheating. But did he condone it? Was he a part of it? If he had no knowledge, no participation, I was screwed.

  Or I’d have to break into the coach’s office.

  I glanced through the window to make sure the hallway was clear. After a few seconds, I figured it was and slowly opened the door. It creaked louder than the outside door I’d come in through. I made sure it closed quietly behind me before hurrying down the hall toward my end game.

  The door was locked.

  Thank God for the internet. I opened a small lockpicking set that I’d ordered and overnighted to my dorm. I’d watched three hours of videos to learn how to do this. It shouldn’t have been as hard as it was. I set the timer on my phone. More out of curiosity than out of necessity. Finally, the door clicked open. I glanced at my phone to see it took eight minutes.

  Clearly, my future wasn’t as a master criminal. Not that it was an option, but still, it was nice to rule out.

  It was also nice to know I could break into my own apartment in the future if I ever got locked out.

  I stepped into the dark outer office. The light from a streetlamp illuminated enough of the inside that I didn’t bump into anything. The problem was going to be in the director’s office. I couldn’t use a flashlight or turn on a lamp. That would be seen outside. I didn’t think that far ahead until I was outside his door. Idiot.

  The doorknob was cold in my gloved hand. Yep, despite the Florida heat, I wore gloves. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but the thin black material made my hands sweaty. My DNA was everywhere I touched.

  I shook my head. Too many nights watching real crime TV.

  The door opened quietly, and I slipped into the office. It wasn’t what I expected. The streetlight gave enough light for me to see a mostly empty bookshelf on one wall, a decent-sized desk in the center of the room, and four filing cabinets on the other wall. I tried those first, but they were locked. I thought about trying to pick and opted to wait. There was more to snoop through first.