Rebel Princess

by Lynn Stevens

  The computer monitor was dark as I rounded the desk. A quick bump of the mouse brought it to life. The log-in presented a problem. At least until I glanced under the monitor where a yellow sticky note clung to the base. It had Piper20* written with a scratchy pen. I tapped the code into the log-in, and the computer woke up.

  This was way too easy. I knew it as I logged in. I knew it as I looked through the files. There wasn’t anything incriminating about the lacrosse team. Actually, there wasn’t anything interesting at all. Most of it was just offer letters to high school students. I opened the email, but there wasn’t anything in there either. Like nothing. Either he was anal about clearing out his inbox, or he had something to hide.

  I logged off the computer and moved toward the desk drawers. The lower left was locked, but the rest were open and had nothing interesting in them. The lower right was filled with current scouting reports. Again, nothing interesting. I tugged on the locked drawer again. Still locked. Duh.

  Pick it or not? That was the question. I pulled out my set just as I heard a noise from the front office.

  Panic seized my chest, and I couldn’t breathe. The distinct sound of a door shutting echoed in my ears. I glanced around the bare office, but there wasn’t a place to hide. Except under the desk. It was the only possibility. I dove under it, pulling the chair in as close as I could. The monitor’s eerie glow shut off just as the door to the office opened.

  I could see the black shoes of the security guard at the door after he turned on the overhead light. His walkie squawked, but I couldn’t understand what was said. After far too many tense moments, he shut off the light.

  But he didn’t close the door right away.

  I held my breath and waited.

  The walkie squawked again.

  “Yeah, Harvey, I’m here now.”

  The walkie made more unintelligible noise.

  “I don’t know.” He paused. “It was weird. The door was unlocked. I could’ve sworn it was locked earlier.”

  The walkie erupted.

  “I said, I don’t know. It could’ve been a fly bumped the keyboard or something. How many times have we gone into an office and the monitor’s on? Plenty of times. You know that.”

  It squawked again.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, we always check it out, and it always ends up being nothing.” The guard’s feet moved, and the door closed behind him, cutting off any further conversations.

  I could hear his muffled words and his steps as he left the outer office. Then silence. I didn’t dare move for a good ten minutes. The light on the monitor had given me away. I’d have to live by the light of the lamp outside. It would be hard, but not impossible. Thank God they thought it was necessary to keep campus somewhat well lit, at least near the main buildings.

  After pushing the chair out of my way, I removed the picks from my fanny pack and began working on the locked desk drawer. It gave away easier than the office door. I pulled it open, not bothering to get up from my space on the floor. Inside were more hanging files, but these caught my attention. Each member of the lacrosse team had their own separate manila file, and there was even one for Coach Hawkins. Some were thick with information. I pinched my brooch camera to life and pulled out Colin’s folder.

  When I opened it, his smiling face startled me. I didn’t expect a mug shot. I pulled out my phone and started taking pictures of each page. There was so much, I didn’t bother to read any of it. Then I moved on to the next file. Then the next. Not all of them had mug shots, but there were a few. I glanced at the time. It was almost one in the morning. There wasn’t enough time to get all the files, so I went to the biggest one: Coach Hawkins.

  By the time I finished snapping pics of his file, it was a little after one-thirty. I put everything back the way I remembered it, hoping it wouldn’t look any different than before. Sighing, I sat back to catch my breath. I didn’t have time to read the files, but I caught enough information to realize this went deeper than just cheating. Blinking back the daze that overtook me, I opened my phone and made sure every file uploaded to my cloud. Just in case.

  And to share my protection, I texted the photos to Quinn. Then I deleted the texts. I also turned off the mini-camera on my shirt.

  Getting out of the building was harder than getting in. The back door I’d used was closed. I hid behind a box for what felt like forever. Thankfully, a guard came through twenty minutes later and propped it open again. I waited ten minutes before I snuck out.

  The Florida air felt cooler than usual against my face. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been sweating. My phone vibrated in the fanny pack. I pulled it out to see a text from Quinn. It was just three angry emojis. Whether it was because of the actual context of the pictures or because he realized what I did, I couldn’t be sure. But I suspected he was pissed at me.

  He’d get over it.

  I hurried back to my dorm room without incident. When I closed the door, my entire body relaxed in relief. I kept expecting the campus police to arrest me or tackle me or whatever they did to a criminal.

  After a quick shower, I read through the files as fast as I could. It was going on three-thirty, but I wasn’t at all tired. This was more damning to the lacrosse team than anything else. Director Shepherd was either covering for them or investigating the team himself. I wasn’t entirely sure which.

  Colin’s mug shot was from last fall, before we’d started dating. He’d gotten into a bar fight off-campus. Three of his teammates were with him at the time. That in and of itself wasn’t a big surprise. The arrest showed they were all in possession of cocaine. The arrest never went past that though. All of the files had their academic records. Each one also had complaints by professors about buying papers and cheating on tests.

  The kicker was the file on Coach Hawkins. It was damning evidence. Hawkins knew and paid for some of the papers.

  But was Shepherd covering it up?

  It didn’t matter. Not at this point. Later, yes, but not at this very moment. I opened my laptop and began writing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I finished the article at six in the morning and emailed it to the local newspaper. I’d promised Dean Stubbins not to peruse it on Mandy’s blog. I never promised not to go bigger. There wasn’t enough time to sleep. I’d have to just stay awake until my eight a.m. class.

  My phone dinged an email twenty minutes and three cups of coffee later. I expected it to be Quinn. Instead, it was an email from the editor of the Leader Gazette.

  Dear Ms. Paquette,

  Please call me immediately to discuss the article you submitted regarding the Camelot University Knights lacrosse team. I’d like to set up an appointment as soon as possible today.

  John Ricks

  Editor in Chief

  His cell number was listed under his title. I didn’t hesitate. The phone rang once on his end.

  “Ricks,” he said. His voice was gruff, and his tone abrupt. I got a little giddy at imagining him at his desk with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, his hair streaked with gray above his ears.

  “Um, hi, this is Emerald Paquette,” I said, my quivering voice giving away my nerves. “You asked me to call?”

  He grunted into the phone, then his tone changed. “You have sources? Besides yourself?”

  “I have documents, yes,” I answered.

  “How fast can you get down here? I want to see them.” If he was at all excited about this story, he wasn’t showing it.

  “Now,” I said, a smile crossing my face. “I can come right now.”

  “Good.” He hung up.

  Fifteen minutes later, I rushed into the offices of the Leader Gazette. I’d expected the bustle of a newsroom. Instead, there was nothing but quiet. It was eerily quiet. I walked by a row of abandoned cubicles with a layer of thick dust covering the desks. A head popped over a cubicle wall in the back of the long room.

  “Can I help you?” an older lady with glasses too large for her face asked. Her h
air was short and disheveled, like I’d just awoken her from a nap.

  “I’m looking for Mr. Ricks. I have an appointment,” I said, nerves fluttering in my stomach. God, I hoped I didn’t throw up. “Sort of.”

  She smiled and came out of her cubicle. “An appointment? That doesn’t sound like Ricks. His office is back that way.” She pointed toward the opposite corner. “You interning with us?”

  That was a thought. I’d never really considered interning anywhere. Then again, up until a few days ago, I thought auditions would be my life.

  “Maybe,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” She smiled and went back to her desk, disappearing behind gray cubicle walls.

  It was eerie. She seemed like the only person working in the cubicle city, but there were a few other desks that were clearly occupied. Of course, it was still early in the day. It was only seven-thirty.

  I walked toward the direction she pointed. There was a short hallway flanked by two water coolers. Several old Leader Gazette front pages hung framed on the walls. They were weathered yellow, and there wasn’t anything from the twenty-first century. It was sad, in my opinion, that journalism was lost in a way. Lost in the times gone by. I shook my head before rapping my knuckles on the plain gray door. It wasn’t good to romanticize at the moment. I needed to focus on the task at hand.

  “Come in,” Mr. Ricks’ muffled voice called out.

  I stepped into the office, expecting a cloud of smoke to overtake me. It was nothing like what I thought. Instead of stacks of old newspapers scattered about, there were clear surfaces. A nice table was under the lone window showcasing a small plant. Another table opposite had four stacks of paper, but they were in nice organized piles. Directly in front of me, Mr. Ricks sat behind a desk with three huge monitors. Behind him, a large TV hung on the wall with a news channel on mute.

  He peeked over the monitors and furrowed his eyebrows. “Emerald Paquette?”

  I nodded, then realized that words needed to come out of my mouth. “Yes, sir.”

  “Have a seat.” He pointed to a chair on the side of his desk. It reminded me of all the cop shows where they booked someone. “You have sources? Besides some hidden grudge against Colin Franks?”

  My butt had barely hit the chair. “Grudge?”

  “It’s clear on the page.”

  I shifted in my seat, uncomfortably. I’d thought I’d kept my bias out. “He’s my ex.”

  “We’re done!” Ricks said with an aggravated huff.

  “No, please, wait. Let me explain.” He raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop me from continuing. “We broke up because of this. I found out he was cheating on his papers.” And me, I thought but didn’t say. “When I started listening to the others, I learned he wasn’t the only one. Most of the guys, the ones I listed, cheated. They had other students take tests, too.”

  “This isn’t just to get even?” he asked, his voice still harsh and unbelieving.

  “No. They’re cheating the system that the rest of us pay for. They’re making a mockery out of college. This is all a big lacrosse match to them.”

  “But you included the coach for fun?”

  “Because he knows, and at times, helps them.” I pulled out my phone and typed in the password for my cloud. The pictures were still there. I half-expected them to have disappeared. It wouldn’t have surprised me. I turned the phone to Mr. Ricks. “See?”

  He read through a few pages; his grunts more agitated with each swipe of the screen. “Send these to me.”

  I nodded, but I needed to know if he was going to run my story. “And the article?”

  “Front page, tomorrow,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “There will be some slight changes to tone down the bias, but you have sources. Sources I don’t want to know how you got. And you need to be prepared for the downfall. Camelot U’s not going to take kindly to some liberal arts major airing their dirty laundry.”

  Liberal … how did he know? I didn’t get the chance to ask before he answered.

  “Yes, I checked into your background. Your work on Camelot’s paper was top-notch. For a school paper.” He sat forward. “If you work here, I expect more in-depth articles like this one on the lacrosse team.”

  “If?” Now I was totally out of my comfort zone. “Are you offering me a job?”

  “A paid internship.” He rolled his hand in a circle. “Think of it as a real chance to do real work.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or do you only have one groundbreaking story in you?”

  “No,” I said a little too fast. “I have more. I just… I wasn’t expecting this is all.”

  “Well, your work speaks for itself. Can you be here Monday?”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, after classes. I’m done by noon” If I even have classes, I thought. What if I get expelled? It was an oddly comforting thought. My dance career was over anyway.

  “See you at twelve-thirty then.” He picked up his phone and dialed out. “Bria, get Miss Paquette an application and go through the intern hiring process asap. She’s starting Monday.” He hung up. “Human resources is expecting you. Opposite side of the building.” He stood and offered his hand. “Welcome to the Leader Gazette.”

  I shook his hand firmly. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Stop sirring me. It’s just Ricks from now on.” He sat down. “And if your scheduled unexpectedly changes, let me know.”

  I nodded because words failed me. Expelling me was an option. Taking away my scholarships so I couldn’t get my degree, that was another option. Making my life hell, well, that was obvious. I was going to become a piranha for the athletic department. Their version of Public Enemy Number One.

  It didn’t bother me. And that felt weird. I felt nothing. Well, not nothing. I was excited about the article running. I was excited about the internship. There were possibilities in front of me I never even thought about. And I was so pumped.

  This was what I was supposed to do with my life. I knew it in my bones.

  I took out my phone to see I’d missed eight texts. Five were from Delilah. Three from Quinn. I opened the ones from Quinn first.

  Call me, please.

  We need to talk.

  Emerald, call me asap. You’re in trouble.

  A stone sunk into my gut. I opened Delilah’s texts next.

  Call me now!!!!

  Emmy, the campus police are looking for you. Call me or don’t call me. Text me.

  O.M.G. What did you do? They won’t leave, and I have to go to class.

  Dean Franks just left with the police. WHAT DID YOU DO?

  Please, call me. I’m scared, Em. I’m really scared.

  Shit.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Where’ve you been?” Quinn asked when he answered the phone.

  I was taken back by his harsh tone, but I didn’t let that get to me. Nothing, not even the dean or campus police, was bringing me down. “Getting a paid internship. You?”

  “Taking panicked calls from your roommate. You wanna tell me what’s going on? And why you sent those photos last night?”

  “Are you at the church?” I asked as I headed that direction. “I’m not that far away.”

  Quinn let out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, I’m in my rooms above the rectory’s garage. Stairs on the side of the building. Don’t let Father Rossi see you. His head would explode.”

  I almost giggled, but Quinn wasn’t in the mood for that. We needed to talk about us. And we needed to talk about last night. I didn’t want to keep any secrets from him. I also didn’t want him to get in trouble. Last night, I did something really stupid, really illegal, and it was still the right thing to do. My moral compass wasn’t off its mark. It was confused in hindsight.

  The morning was glorious, and with an extra bounce in my step, I made my way to Quinn’s rooms. The church towered over everything, the campus before it and the dying neighborhood behind it, casting long shadows on the roofs of abandoned homes and empty businesses. I wondered at the downfal
l of such a once prosperous part of the city. What happened? The church was the center of this world, but everything else disappeared while it soldiered on.

  Maybe that was another angle to the story, beside Camelot buying the neighborhood and wanting to buy the church. I’d talk to my editor about it.

  That thought made me giggle.

  Quinn sat at the bottom of the stairs. His elbows were on his knees, and his hands were clasped together. He bowed his head as if in prayer. Maybe he was. We hadn’t gotten to that part of our relationship. I knew he was religious, but I didn’t know the depth of his beliefs. There was so much I didn’t know.

  I stopped in front of him, and he raised his head to look at me. The sun illuminated his face. The worry lines smoothed, but I’d seen them. He was concerned, and my heart soared. It hist me then. I was falling hard for this man. Despite not knowing much about him, I knew in my soul that we were connected.

  I put my hand on his scarred cheek. “I’m sorry I worried you,” I said softly.

  Quinn’s arms wrapped around my legs. He pulled me into his arms, his head on my stomach. I ran my hands through his hair, then I pulled his head back and bent to kiss him. He hesitated at first before opening up to me. I wanted to keep making out, but this was not the place.

  Quinn stood, took my hand, and led me up to his rooms.

  He opened the door. I tried to look around, to get another insight into his life. Quinn spun around and pinned me to the door with his body. His lips were on mine. The gentleman was gone. This was one hundred percent all man who wanted a woman. And I was all in. His hands skimmed down my sides, tugging at the ends of my shirt.

  I pushed him back gently. His eyes flitted with regret as he stepped away from me. I wasn’t about to let that happen. I reached down and locked the door. Smiling, I walked toward him as I unbuttoned my shirt slowly. Quinn’s gaze followed my fingers until I made it to the last button. I stood in front of him, not opening the shirt. My chest heaved with want and need.