Page 27 of Kings of the Campus

Jace agrees to meet with me the next day and we go to the campus dining hall together, discussing plans over breakfast.

“Nothing can come directly from us,” Jace warns as we write down ideas in an old notebook. It’s risky, but we don’t want an electronic paper trail.

“What about something that disrupts her class?” I offer, tapping my spoon against the side of my yogurt container. “If none of us are around when the disruption happens, we can’t be blamed.”

“That’s an idea,” Jace agrees, leaning in closer to be heard over the din of noise that’s grown since we came into the dining hall. “I have another idea. What if we get the rumor going that she’s lying about those confidential sources she used on the unsafe lab equipment story she put out a few weeks ago?”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on,” I encourage.

“If we play it right, it could make her look unreliable or even untrustworthy,” Jace says, a gleam in his eyes. “It’s subtle but it’s a good way to make people look twice at her, make it harder for her to do her job.”

I grin. “You devious bastard, I love it,” I tell him. We jot down a few more ideas and Jace hands me the notebook for safekeeping. I stash it away inside a binder in my backpack and take off to execute the first part of our plan.

One carefully placed phone call later, I head to class, snickering to myself as I wait to find out the results of our first prank.

I’m in class when I hear it—someone loudly singing Billy Joel in the hall, outside the room across from mine.

The professor stops mid-lecture and curious glances are exchanged as we all head to the door to see what’s happening.

Peering out from the window, I have to stifle a grin when I see the singing telegram we had delivered to Tessa’s class. The messenger is dressed like a bellhop, belting out the lyrics to “Uptown Girl” on one knee, while holding Tessa by the hand inthe doorway. Tessa’s face is beet red and she glances up, but I duck out of the way before she can see me staring.

I lean against the wall, a smirk playing on my lips. When I think the coast might be clear, I glance out the window again to see the professor yelling at Tessa to get out of class and take the messenger with her.

Snickering into my fist, I revel in the fact that Strike One of our plan was a raging success.

The next strike comes a few hours later when Tessa is preparing to get into her car. Jace and I watch from behind some bushes a few hundred feet away, holding back laughter as she opens the door to a pungent, powerful smell.

We got someone to jimmy the lock on her car and drop a stink bomb into it. And now as we watch, she has tears in her eyes as she gags on the rancid scent, fanning the air in front of her face to waft away the smell.

She glances around, a glare on her face as she tries to find whoever she thinks is behind the prank to no avail. Finally giving up, she slams her car door shut and stalks off.

Jace and I exchange a high five once she’s out of sight and stand up, celebrating the success of Strike Two.

We wait until a few days have passed to pull off Strike Three, laying low until the time is right. Tessa is studying in the library when we send one of the pledges to walk by and distract her while another swipes her phone.

He brings it back to us and we hold onto it, turning it on silent so she can’t use the Find My Phone feature. We wait until she’s frantically searching for it before sending someone else to casually walk by and pretend to “find” the phone on the ground.

We repeat this a few times until Tessa becomes a harried mess, mumbling to herself about how she’s going crazy and she packs up her stuff, leaving the library in a hurry.

Jace and I know that we’re being petty, but it does admittedly feel good to get back at Tessa after she used us the way she did at the party. I’d never done anything like that with anyone before, and I thought it meant that Tessa was someone I could trust. But trust broken can’t be easily repaired, and she’s just getting what she deserves.

The final strike of our plan, Strike Four, is going to be the final blow. I borrow a pledge’s phone and use it to text his girlfriend, who works on the paper with Tessa.

Heard that Tessa Collins made up her sources on the lab equipment story. Is that true? Kinda shady if it is.

It works like a charm, spreading faster than expected. By the end of the day, I’ve got a text from one of the other Sigmas, tellingmethe rumor.

I can’t believe it worked! Tessa is going to be sorry she ever messed around with the Sigmas. She shouldn’t have tried to screw us over if she didn’t want it coming back to haunt her.

The best part is watching Tessa grow increasingly distressed after each prank and incident. I’m outside the student center today, watching as Tessa walks around looking like a zombie, with dark circles under her eyes, her hair a frizzy mess, wearing rumpled sweats and a hoodie as she angrily gnaws on a granola bar.

She’s muttering to herself while furiously texting someone on her phone and hardly notices when she almost walks into the corner of a building. I wonder if she knows we’re the ones behind the pranks. I wonder if she suspects.

I can’t help but enjoy that we’ve gotten under her skin, even if it’s just a little. She’s been messing with us enough and it’s satisfying to see her get her comeuppance.

But my eyes widen in shock when I see Tessa take a turn at the end of the quad and head toward the dean’s office. I narrow my eyes. Is she going to blame us, even without a lick of proof?

She’d better not, if she knows what’s good for her.

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