Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Acknowledgements
The Naughty List
RAZORBILL
Published by the Penguin Group Penguin Young Readers Group 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A. Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A. Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd) Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England
10987654321
Copyright © 2010 Suzanne Young
All rights reserved Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Young, Suzanne. p. cm. Summary: Head cheerleader Tessa runs the ultra-secret SOS, or Society of Smitten Kittens, that spies on her fellow-students’ cheating boyfriends, until her own boyfriend is implicated.
eISBN : 978-1-101-19660-1
[1. Dating (Social customs)--Fiction. 2. Interpersonal relations--Fiction. 3. Cheerleading--Fiction. 4. High schools--Fiction. 5. Schools--Fiction. 6. Honesty--Fiction.] I. Title. PZ7.Y887 Nau 2010 [Fic] 22
2009021094
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http://us.penguingroup.com
In loving memory of my grandmother, Josephine Parzych.
SOS
The Naughty LIST!
UPDATED:
—caught
Bryant, Michael—under investigation
—caught
—caught
—caught
Hanlon, Harley—under investigation
—caught
—caught
Letterman, Noah—under investigation
—totally caught!
—caught
Raffule, Richard—under investigation
—caught
—caught
SOS CHEATER INCIDENT REPORT
CASE: 042
CLIENT: Natalie Snyder
SUBJECT: Dwayne Brooks
FINDINGS: At approximately 9:15 p.m. on January 27, Mr. Brooks was observed engaging in a make-out session with a girl other than the client. The incident took place in the back row of the Regal Cinemas, theater 2. The movie was an ultra-lame romantic comedy.
Enclosed are the photos documenting the incident. There are three photos of Mr. Brooks in a lip-lock, one at the concession stand, where he bought his female companion Twizzlers, and two others, which were taken while the pair were parked in front of the female’s house. Note that the final photo confirms third base.
We trust that this report will remain confidential as some of the information contained within could compromise our top-secret status.
SOS is sorry for your loss, and we offer our deepest sympathies. We hope that we will not have to assist you again in the future, but please keep us in mind for referrals. Keep smiling,
SOS
Text: 555-0101
Exposing Cheaters for Over Two Years
CHAPTER ONE
SIGH. A PADLOCK? WHO PADLOCKED THEIR GATES in this neighborhood? This was Brinkerhoff Point—one of the nicest areas in the entire state of Washington! “Bobby pin,” I whispered, exhausted from climbing the hill with a backpack full of gear. I’d had to park nearly three blocks away.
“Oops,” Kira said, biting her well-glossed lip. “I wore my hair down tonight.” I narrowed my eyes at her as she fluffed her blond curls. “Sorry, Tess. I wanted to look good in case we bumped into Darren.”
“At two in the morning?”
She shrugged, scrunching her nose. Kira was sweet, even when she forgot the necessary break-in equipment. I slid the heavy backpack off my shoulders, dropped it onto the grass, and squatted.
The well-manicured side yard provided perfect cover—high bushes, dark corners, and no motion detectors. Score. As I unzipped the front pocket, I glanced at the full moon, noting that it lit up the entire sky. It was time to kick this mission into high gear. Getting caught breaking into Michael Garnett’s house would be a horrible inconvenience. If we were in a holding cell, we’d totally miss cheerleading practice!
“Holy cannoli, K! What did you pack?” There was so much stuff in the bag that the pen I was searching for was lost in a sea of night vision cameras, flashlights, GPS trackers, and ... panties? “Ew!” I yanked out my hand.
She giggled. “There they are!”
“Kira, a Smitten Kitten doesn’t carry her panties around in a backpack. She wears them under her clothes.”
There was a rustling in the backyard on the other side of the fence, and my breath stopped. Mashed potatoes and gravy! Was someone awake?
“Move,” I whispered, putting my arm out to back us slowly away across the grass. Seconds passed, and the noise settled into the chirping of crickets. I tried to breathe, my chest heaving under my one-piece black kitten suit. It wasn’t as tight as Kira’s ensemble, but it was still snug and totally flattering. Especially since I’d been working out more—lycra wasn’t very forgiving. Suddenly, a gray cat jumped up and balanced on the top of the wooden gate, looking us over. It meowed once and then strolled across the length of the fence before jumping into the neighbor’s yard. I exhaled.
“Aw ...” Kira said, quietly clapping. “I love kitties.”
I shook my head and got down on my knees in the damp grass to go through the items Kira had prepped for this mission. Obviously, she’d missed the memo that required all assignments to be stocked with a lock pick (or bobby pin). Oh, well, at least she had panties this time.
When I finally found the pen, I plucked off the cap and walked up to the padlock, twisting the plastic carefully inside it.
Click.
“Get the bag,” I whispered. “I’ll need the webcam.”
Michael Garnett had been accused of cheating on his girlfriend, Caitlyn, with someone he’d met on MySpace. Unfortunately, he was constantly changing his password, so that every time I cracked his code, he’d made a new one. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was on to SOS. But I did know better. Nobody outwitted the Society of Smitten Kittens. We were seriously stealth.
I pushed open the heavy wood gate, and Kira followed me as we made our way to the back of his enormous brick house. Michael’s be
droom was on the first floor, and that was a good thing. I was not in the mood to scale a wall tonight.
We paused in front of his window and ducked down, peeking between the slots of his blinds. Only guys forgot to close their blinds. The room was dark, but his computer’s screen saver tossed out enough light so that I could see Michael’s husky figure, turned away from me in the bed.
Thankfully, Leona had come by earlier in the week and mapped the place out. Michael’s computer was right next to the window, which made this assignment possible. Otherwise, I would have never taken the chance on breaking in. Or at least, breaking in while he was home.
Quietly and carefully, I slid open the pane and raised the blinds. Perfect. Not a sound. I looked back at Kira, and she gave a dimpled smile and a big thumbs-up. I appreciated her support.
I leaned in the window, putting my weight on my stomach as I pulled myself through. Silently, I eased my sneakers onto the carpet and let my eyes adjust to the darkness.
Michael was a safe distance away, snoring softly. Ick. His room smelled like sweaty socks and Axe body spray. I twitched my nose.
Stretching my arm back through the window, I held out my hand for the webcam. It was an exact replica of the one balanced on Michael’s computer, totally on sale at spytime.com! Leona had ordered new equipment that could send a direct feed to the SOS database. She was great at more than high kicks and herkies. She was a computer whiz.
Carefully, I removed the wires and clipped the new cam on the computer frame. Then I leaned forward over Michael’s desk and looked into the lens, waiting.
“Got the signal,” Kira whispered from outside. I smiled and winked at the camera.
As I straightened up, I noticed Michael’s cell phone plugged in and resting on the side table next to a box of tissues. Hm. Cautiously, I made my way toward it.
Just then, Michael moaned, and the bedsprings creaked as he turned over. I dropped to my stomach on the carpeted floor. I was about to get busted! If my boyfriend found out I was sneaking around in another guy’s room, he would kill me!
A few feet away, I heard squeaks and the sound of sheets rustling. Was he getting up? Instinctively, I tucked my arms at my sides and rolled under his bed, only a second before I saw his bare feet hit the ground. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my breathing quiet as I watched him walk forward, scratching at his flannelpajamaed rear. Gross.
It felt like a bazillion seconds, but finally, he opened his bedroom door and walked out into a brightly lit hallway. I needed to escape.
Quickly, I scrambled out from under the bed and pushed aside Michael’s leather desk chair as I made for the window. I paused, mid-getaway, and turned back. I wanted that sim card from his phone. I moved fast.
My polished fingers shook as I quickly slid off the metal back cover and removed the battery. From outside the room, I heard a toilet flush. Cranberry juice cocktail! I had to go.
I plucked out the card and snapped the battery case shut. There was the soft creak of a door hinge, and I dropped the phone and dashed to the window. I dove and had barely gotten my sneakered heel through when the bedroom door opened. I front-flipped and fell into the grass, Lycra-covered rear first, and stared up into Kira’s terrified expression.
I put my finger to my lips and motioned for her to get to the gate. Still lying on my back, I opened my palm. Sim card.
Strawberry smoothie.
Kira had calmed down by the time we reached my car. She wasn’t very good at handling stress sometimes. She suffered from post-traumatic SOS disorder. In fact, after our last mission at the Regal Cinemas, Kira had a panic attack and nearly choked on a Twizzler.
“Oh,” she said as she buckled her seat belt. “At practice Leona wants to talk about a name change. Everyone is still calling us the Sex Kittens, and she thinks it’s demeaning.” Kira breathed on the passenger window and then traced KD into it.
I sighed. We’d had this conversation before. “I understand, but just because we’ve agreed to stop using the name doesn’t mean the rival schools will. We cheer for the Wildcats, K. It makes sense that with our good looks, they’d come up with Sex Kittens. I give them credit for being clever.”
Truth was, I did think the name was offensive, which was why I took it upon myself to call us the Smitten Kittens whenever possible. It had a much better connotation. And besides, it rhymed!
Still, most of the boys at school called us the Sex Kittens, including my boyfriend. Technically, our name was the Society of Smitten Kittens (SOS), only ... without the K. Acronyms were ridiculously hard! Plus SOS sounded way more official than SOSK.
“You’re right,” Kira said, adjusting the aim on the heater vents. “And honestly, I don’t mind being a Sex Kitten. It’s way better than being a Cougar, right?” We both laughed. The rival squad at Templeton High was totally lame.
Even though we occasionally helped out the girls at other schools, we tried not to go too far out of our district. It was harder to get accurate information, and it made carpooling difficult. But we prided ourselves on being an equal opportunity operation.
When my car heated up, I shifted into gear and began driving toward Kira’s apartment complex. She lived in the Marshall District—an older section of town on the other side of the freeway. It was mostly duplexes and mom-and-pop shops, but it was closer to the mall, which Kira was stoked about. Especially since she didn’t have a car.
“Just remember,” I said as I stopped at a red light. “If we act like the name bothers us, they’ll only use it more. What’s the Smitten Kitten motto?”
“Never let them see you sweat,” she announced, looking proud to have remembered this time.
“Exactly. Because Kittens. Don’t. Sweat.”
I bit on my lip as the light changed to green. I wanted to believe those words, but sometimes in this business, perspiration was unavoidable. I’d known back when we’d first started that SOS would be a hard gig. Harder than a double-flip basket catch.
It was two years ago when our cheerleading captain, Mary Rudick, had been cheated on. Her boyfriend, Kyle, had been the Wildcats’ power forward and an all-around nice guy, or so we’d thought. Turns out he’d been running a screen.
At a playoff game, a girl showed up—obviously from a rival school because she seriously lacked school spirit—and stomped down the bleachers in heels during halftime. We were all waiting on the sidelines for our signal to go out and cheer when the girl came over, not even dressed in our colors. She asked Mary if she was still dating Kyle, and Mary, always polite, said that she was indeed his girlfriend.
But instead of congratulating her, the girl laughed right in Mary’s face! She said that for the past year, Kyle had been seeing her and that Mary needed to back off. Turns out, Kyle had been sleeping with both of them!
As the girl spoke, Mary had just stood there, completely silent. I felt like I had to do something to stop the self-esteem assault, so with emergency captain authority, I’d told the girl to leave. Very sternly. She gave a little smirk before shoulder bumping me and exiting the gymnasium.
The buzzer had sounded, signaling time for our halftime cheer, but Mary didn’t move. Her pom-poms dropped to the wood floor with a double thwack. My heart broke. And then my adrenaline kicked in.
I marched out onto center court, soon followed by the others. I cheered my stuffing out. The power was amazing as the crowd reacted to my every word. I remember watching the sidelines as Mary stumbled back a few steps and sat in a folding chair, staring straight ahead, her dark eyes glassy with tears. I cheered louder.
By the end of the game, I had nearly lost my voice, and Mary wasn’t speaking. She left before Kyle could find her, but I saw that he knew. He offered me his signature crooked smile, but I just turned and stormed out.
The next day, Mary pulled all the squad into a meeting and discussed starting a club—one that caught cheaters. After careful observation, we noticed that our school had an abnormally high cheater-to-girlfriend ratio. I theorized that maybe
it had something to do with the rainy weather.
So with the help of the internet, some spy books, and a few James Bond flicks, we set out on our first mission. It took us a while to get the right balance between investigating and cheering, but after a few false starts, we got it to stick. Mary drafted the official handbook, and ever since then, all Smitten Kittens doubled as official cheater catchers.
After she graduated, Mary deemed that I had more spirit than anyone she’d ever encountered, so she turned SOS over to me. I took my role as leader very seriously. I’d never let another girl suffer because of her boyfriend’s extracurricular activities. There’d never be another Mary Rudick.
I smiled to myself. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about Aiden cheating. He was my perfect guy, practically a life-size boyfriend trophy. Oh, so cute and—
“Hey,” Kira said, pointing out the windshield. “You just passed my place.”
“Oops.” I shook my ponytailed head as I slowed my car and pulled to the curb a few buildings down. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about something.”
“Or someone.” Kira made kissing noises and rubbed at her shoulders in a fake make out.
I laughed but then caught sight of the dashboard clock and groaned. Even though it was twenty minutes fast (so I’d never be late), it read three in the morning. “K?” I asked. “Do you mind if I reschedule practice until after school? I’m not sure I can jump as high as I need to this morning.”