Third-Person Limited – Kendra, then Dominic, then Kendra again
Three weeks later, Kendra had to admit one thing:
Joint Service sucked… but it wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
Most days, it was boring. She and Dominic reported to the front office at three o'clock sharp, signed in with Miss Hall, and then got handed menial tasks. Collating worksheets. Carrying boxes to classrooms. Sorting lost-and-found into "valuable" and "how is this even still here."
The first week, they barely spoke. Grunts and eyerolls didn't really count as conversation.
By the second week, the silence had started to crack. Little things slipped out. Sarcastic comments. Mutters. Jokes at Miss Hall's expense—when she wasn't listening, of course.
By the third week, something close to… a rhythm had formed.
Kendra still couldn't stand him most days. Dominic was bossy, easily annoyed, and way too used to people doing what he said. But he worked. He didn't shove everything onto her and walked away. And every now and then he said something that almost made her laugh.
Almost.
Everyone else, though, only saw them leaving the office together. Passing things back and forth. Occasionally walking down, the hall side by side when their classrooms were in the same direction.
And that? That was enough to start rumors.
Kendra first noticed Karina's stare one Wednesday.
She'd just finished carrying a box of old yearbooks into the office. She nudged the door open with her shoulder and set the box down on the counter next to Dominic, who was labeling folders.
"Which dinosaur year is this?" she asked, wiping her hands on her jeans.
He glanced at the spine. "2001."
Kendra let out a low whistle. "Wow. Before Instagram. Dark times."
He huffed. "You act like you're not also old."
"I am not old. I am vintage," she said.
Miss Hall snorted quietly from her desk.
When they left the office an hour later, Kendra pushed through the glass doors and squinted into the afternoon light. Her friends were waiting near the curb, waving. She lifted her hand in response.
Movement to the side caught her eye.
Karina stood near one of the fancy cars in the student lot, phone in hand, talking to another girl. She wasn't laughing for once. She wasn't even smiling.
She was staring.
Not at Dominic.
At Kendra.
Her gaze swept over the distance between Dominic and Kendra measuredly, like she was connecting dots only she could see.
Kendra rolled her eyes and kept walking.
If Karina Frost thought she could scare her with some icy death glare, she'd picked the wrong one.
Later That Week – Dominic
If there was one thing Dominic hated more than paperwork, it was drama.
Unfortunately, both seemed determined to cling to him lately.
He met Karina by the parking lot on Friday afternoon, tossing his bag into the backseat of his car. She slid into the passenger side with a sharp exhale.
"You had done with your little community service?" she asked, folding her arms.
"It's not 'little'," he said, starting the engine. "And it's not optional."
"It's stupid," she snapped. "You're the principal's son. You shouldn't be sorting paper with some angry girl from Jamaica."
He pulled out of the parking spot slowly. "Kendra hit Antonio. She slammed you into a table. We're all lucky Dad didn't go harder on everyone."
Karina made a disgusting sound. "Everyone keeps talking about her like she's some kind of legend," she said. "Like it was cool."
He didn't answer.
Because people were talking. Dominic caught pieces of it in the halls. Laughter. Imitations. The word Jamaican said with a weird mix of fear and admiration.
"She's violent," Karina went on. "And loud. And disrespectful. And now she gets to play detention buddy with you three times a week?"
"It's Joint Service," he corrected automatically.
"Whatever." She twisted in her seat to face him more fully. "Can you at least stop walking out with her like you're friends?"
"We're not friends," Dominic said.
"Could've fooled everybody," she shot back. "You two always coming out of the office together… people are starting to talk."
He kept his eyes on the road. "People always talk."
Karina stared at him. "You don't see it, do you? The way she looks at you?"
Dominic scoffed. "She looks at me like she wants to throw me down a flight of stairs."
"Exactly," Karina said. "She hates you now. That's how it starts. Hate, then… obsession. Then she thinks she has a chance."
He let out a short laugh. "Karina, there is no universe where Kendra Atchinson and I are ever a thing."
"You're sure?" Her tone was sharp, but there was something uncertain beneath it.
"She's a punishment," he said flatly. "Nothing else."
The words landed harsher than he intended.
He didn't miss the flicker of satisfaction in Karina's eyes though.
"Good," she said, leaning back. "Then you won't care when I put her in her place."
He frowned. "What does that mean?"
"Relax," she said, glossing over it with a sugary smile. "Nothing serious. Just a little reminder of where she stands."
His wolf stirred uneasily inside him. Dominic pushed the feeling down.
"Karina," he said, "don't start anything that'll send us back to Dad's office."
She rolled her eyes. "He likes my father's donations too much to really punish me," she said breezily. "You know that."
He did know it. That was the problem.
He gripped the steering wheel tighter.
"Seriously," he said. "Don't make this worse."
She smiled, pretty and cold. "I won't," she lied.
The Prank – Friday
Kendra remembered later that the day had started kind of nicely.
She'd got a decent night's sleep. Her math teacher hadn't given them homework. Sofia had brought food from a Korean store she'd found thirty minutes away.
Things went downhill at exactly 12:10 p.m.
The bell rang for lunch. Kendra and the girls grabbed their stuff and headed for their lockers before the crush of bodies got too thick. The hallway buzzed with noise, people laughing, bumping shoulders, planning weekends.
Kendra spun her locker combination, hummed under her breath, and pulled the door open.
A full bucket of bright pink, glittery slime dumped straight over her head.
Cold. Sticky. Everywhere.
It splashed into her hair, down her face, into the collar of her shirt. It splattered across her books and shoes, running in slow, disgusting trails.
For a second, she just stood there, stunned, glitter dripping off her eyelashes.
Then the laughter began.
It rolled down the hallway in a wave—snorts, squeals, full belly cackles. Phones came out, cameras up.
"Oh my God—"
"Look at her hair!"
"Bro, she looks like a busted Barbie—"
Kendra wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing more pink across her skin. Her cheeks burned—not from shame, but from fury.
"Who did this?" Jeah hissed beside her, already looking around.
Kendra didn't have to.
Karina's laugh cut through the noise, sharp and familiar.
Kendra turned.
Karina stood a few lockers down, surrounded by her usual orbit of girls. She held a glitter-coated string in her hand—the one that must've been tied to the bucket. She twirled it around her finger casually.
"Oops," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Guess I forgot to 'warn' maintenance about that leak in your locker."
Her friends giggled on cue.
Kendra stepped forward, pink slime sliding down her sleeves. "You think this is funny?" she asked.
Karina's eyes glittered. "I think it's hilarious," she said. "You've been walking around this school like you run it. Consider this a reality check, whale girl."
Somewhere behind Kendra, someone muttered, "Oh, shit."
Blood roared in Kendra's ears.
She wanted to lunge. Wanted to grab a handful of that perfect hair and yank until Karina apologized in three languages.
Instead, what came out first were words.
"Yuh see you," Kendra began, voice low and dangerous. "You're a whole clown, you know that?"
Karina blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Kendra snapped, slipping fully into patois now that her temper had snapped. "You walk round here like yuh own di place 'cause yuh fada fling li'l lunch money pon di school every year. But strip off di makeup, tek off di brand-name clothes, and you're just a basic, insecure likkle gyal who cyan fight one-on-one so yuh haffi use bucket and glitter."
A ripple ran through the crowd.
"English, please," Karina sneered. "This is America."
"Oh, yuh want English?" Kendra laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Fine. You're pathetic. You're obsessed. And you're pressed because I made you look stupid in the cafeteria, and you know you can't touch me without hiding behind your daddy's wallet."
Karina's face flushed. "At least my dad can afford to donate," she spat. "Yours probably can't even afford tuition."
Kendra's vision narrowed.
"My father might not be some rich politician," she said slowly, "but he did teach me one thing: no crime goes unpunished. Remember that."
Before things could explode further, a teacher's voice cut through the hallway.
"Hey! What is going on here?" Mrs. Turner pushed through the ring of students, eyes widening at the sight of Kendra's slime-covered self and the dripping bucket at her feet. "Who is responsible for this?"
Everyone looked at Karina.
Karina smiled sweetly. "It was just a prank, Mrs. Turner," she said. "We were messing around and it went wrong. No big deal."
Mrs. Turner's gaze slid from Karina to the glitter dripping onto the floor. To Kendra's clenched fists. To the watching students.
"Both of you," she said tightly, "to the principal's office. Now. The rest of you, get to lunch."
The crowd groaned and started to disperse, some still snickering. Kendra stomped toward the office, slime squelching in her shoes. Karina walked beside her, annoyingly unbothered.
"It really is a good color on you," Karina murmured.
Kendra didn't trust herself to answer.
Mr. Garrison had clearly already been warned they were coming. He stood by the window when they entered, hands clasped behind his back. His nose wrinkled slightly at the smell of artificial strawberry.
"Explain," he said.
They both talked at once.
"She set up a bucket in my locker—"
"She's been trying to start something for weeks—"
"Quiet," he said, raising a hand. "Miss Frost?"
Karina straightened. "It was a prank, sir," she said. "I'll pay for any cleaning needed. I didn't mean for it to go that far."
He looked at Kendra, who was still dripping onto his carpet. "And you, Miss Atchinson?"
"That wasn't a prank," Kendra said flatly. "It was targeted. She knew what she was doing. She pulled the string while I opened my locker."
Karina rolled her eyes. "You can't prove that."
"I can check the cameras," Mr. Garrison said.
For the first time, Karina's smile faltered. "Sir, my father—"
"I am aware of who your father is," Mr. Garrison said, irritation flickering across his face before he smoothed it away. "Which is precisely why I expect you to behave better, not worse."
Kendra felt a tiny spark of vindication.
It burned out quickly.
"However," he added, "no one was physically harmed. Miss Atchinson, your words in the hallway were also out of line. You both contributed to an escalation."
Karina relaxed visibly. Kendra's jaw tightened.
"So," Mr. Garrison went on, "you will both serve detention this afternoon. One hour. And I expect this to be the last time either of you is in my office for nonsense like this. Understood?"
One hour. No suspension. No extra punishment for Karina.
Kendra's hands curled into fists at her sides.
"Yes, sir," she said through her teeth.
Karina nodded primly. "Yes, sir."
As they left the office, Kendra felt Karina lean in slightly.
"Told you," Karina whispered. "They're not going to do anything to me. My dad Mr. garrison and my dad are very close friends."
Kendra's back stiffened.
Her father's voice echoed in her head from years ago, calm and firm.
No crime shall go unpunished, Kendra. If you let people walk over you once, they'll do it again and again.
Fine.
If the school wouldn't deal with Karina Frost?
Kendra Atchinson would.
Detention right after school was boring and annoying and mercifully short.
They sat in a near-empty classroom under a teacher's half-hearted supervision. Karina spent most of the time texting. Every so often, she'd glance over and say something like, "You know, my dad could probably get your little exchange program extended if I asked nicely. Shame I don't feel like it."
Kendra stared straight ahead and mentally rearranged Karina's face.
By the time they were released, the sky was already turning orange. Sofia picked them up with a sympathetic wince at Kendra's still-pink-stained hair.
"I'll help you get it out," she promised. "Glitter is evil, but we can try."
All evening, Kendra scrubbed and scrubbed. The slime washed away. The glitter clung stubbornly in tiny flecks to her hairline, her hoodie, her shoes.
By midnight, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
They say vengeance solves nothing, she thought.
She snorted.
Whoever "they" were, they clearly had never had a bucket of glitter slime dropped on them by some rich man's daughter whose only punishment was a one-hour time-out.
They say vengeance solves nothing, she thought again. I say they've never had anything done to them that actually warranted revenge.
Her father's words rolled through her mind once more.
No crime shall go unpunished.
She agreed with him completely.
Even if the school didn't.
Early Monday – 4:30 a.m.
The school was almost eerie in the dark.
The parking lot was empty. Only a few security lights glowed by the doors. The air was cold enough to make Kendra's breath fog as she slipped across the asphalt, hoodie pulled low, backpack slung over her shoulder.
If anyone asked later, she'd say she was sleepwalking.
The side door Sofia had pointed out weeks ago—the one staff used, the one that was sometimes accidentally left open—gave under her hand with a soft click.
She exhaled.
Inside, the hallways smelled like floor cleaner and old paper. No chatter. No footsteps. Just the faint hum of the building itself.
"If you're wondering if I'm by myself," she muttered under her breath, "yes, I'm by myself. I'm smart, not stupid. Not dragging my friends into this."
She walked quickly down the hall toward the junior lockers.
Karina's was easy to find. Glitter stickers. A tiny mirror on the inside. The memory of the bucket dropping just as Kendra turned the handle.
Kendra shrugged her backpack off and knelt.
Back in Jamaica, she'd hung around with a boy in her neighborhood who'd picked up some questionable skills over the years. He'd taught her how to pick simple locks using hairpins and patience. She'd never had a good reason to use that knowledge.
Until now.
She slid the pins into the keyhole; tongue tucked into the corner of her mouth as she worked. A wiggle here. A turn there.
Click.
The locker swung open.
"Thank you, delinquent ex-friend," she whispered.
Karina's perfume was front and center—a fancy-looking glass bottle with a pale pink liquid inside. Next to it, her signature pink glitter lip gloss, her backup face powder compact, and an entire mini makeup bag of spare cosmetics.
"The plan," Kendra murmured to herself, "is very simple."
She pulled a small plastic bag from her backpack.
Inside were crumpled, sealed grocery bags she'd filled the night before.
One at a time, she opened them and pulled out the contents: several sweaty T-shirts and gym shorts she'd "borrowed" from the boys' locker room on Friday evening while no one was looking.
The smell was… aggressive.
"Y'all nasty," she muttered, then unscrewed Karina's perfume cap.
She poured the real perfume into an empty travel bottle she'd brought, then carefully squeezed sweat from the shirts into the now-empty fancy bottle. When it was full, she added a few drops of food coloring until the liquid matched the original pale pink.
She screwed the cap back on and swirled it, watching the fake perfume slosh inside.
"New fragrance," she said under her breath. "Eau de Locker Room."
Next: the lip gloss.
Kendra popped the wand out. The sticky pink product clung to it.
From her backpack, she pulled a small tube of pink glitter glue she'd bought from a craft store with the last of her pocket money. Non-toxic. Very sticky.
She squeezed a generous amount into the gloss tube, mixing it with the real product until it looked the same but had a thicker, stringier texture.
"Enjoy that, princess," she muttered, screwing the cap back on.
Then the powder.
She opened the compact. Perfectly pressed, expensive-looking, a shade too light for anyone without money.
From another container in her bag, she spooned in a small amount of dyed cooking flour she'd carefully mixed the night before. Almost the same color as the powder—but just off enough that, once applied, it would cling and cake weirdly when mixed with sweat and oil.
She closed it again with a satisfying snap.
"And now," she whispered, "for the extra."
Her eyes scanned the locker until they landed on Karina's gym bag shoved onto the top shelf. Kendra tugged it down, unzipped it, and peeked inside.
Gym shorts. Top. Deodorant. A tiny body spray.
She grinned slowly.
Five minutes later, Karina's gym outfit had been exchanged for one from the drama department costume closet—a slightly too-bright, slightly too-tight hot pink tank top that read PRINCESS IN TRAINING and shorts with glittery hearts on the butt.
Kendra folded the outfit neatly and put it back.
She stepped back, looking over her work.
Perfume: sabotaged.
Gloss: sabotaged.
Powder: sabotaged.
Gym clothes: upgraded to humiliation.
Once everything was back in place, she closed the locker quietly and reset the combination.
Then she walked out of the building the way she came, the sky just starting to lighten in the east.
By fourth period, word of Kendra's glitter slime incident had finally started to die down.
By fifth period, something new had taken its place.
Kendra was at her locker when she heard it.
"Did you smell Karina in Bio?"
"I thought something died in there—"
"No, bro, I swear it was her perfume—"
"And what was up with her face? It looked like cake batter—"
"And her lips? Why were they stuck together like that—"
Kendra closed her locker slowly, fighting a smile.
She caught a glimpse of Karina storming past at the end of the hallway. Her usually flawless hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail. Her lips were shiny, but the gloss clumped in little strings when she spoke. A blotchy, slightly too-pale patch of powder caked along her jawline.
And the smell.
Dear God, the smell.
She smelled like someone had bottled the boys' locker room after a championship game.
"Ugh, what is that?" a girl gagged as Karina passed.
"New perfume," someone whispered. "Eau de Garbage."
Karina's eyes were wild as she snapped, "It's not me, okay? Something's wrong with the product. My dad is going to sue that company—"
As if that wasn't enough, gym class made everything worse.
Kendra wasn't in Karina's gym period, but the story spread fast.
Karina had opened her bag, expecting her usual cute, expensive workout clothes… and instead found the hot pink "PRINCESS IN TRAINING" tank top and glitter-heart shorts.
Her scream had apparently echoed down the hallway.
Now, walking into the cafeteria, Kendra passed a table where a few girls were scrolling through fresh photos.
"Look, look, that's from her Snap story before she deleted it," one said, showing her phone. In the picture, Karina stood red-faced in an awful outfit, clearly mid-rant.
"She looks like a rejected Barbie," another snickered.
Kendra slipped past, head down, mouth twitching.
Dominic was at his usual table with his friends. He watched the barely-contained giggles ripple through the room, the way people glanced at Karina and quickly looked away, trying not to laugh.
His gaze flicked across the cafeteria.
Kendra sat with her girls near the back, calmly eating her food, expression carefully neutral. But he could see the satisfaction in the little tilt of her mouth.
His wolf nudged him.
She did this, it seemed to say.
Of course she did.
He didn't need evidence. He just knew.
Karina stormed toward his table, hair bouncing, the awful scent preceding her.
"Dom," she hissed. "Someone messed with my stuff."
He tried not to flinch at the smell. "What?"
"My perfume," she said rapidly. "My gloss. My powder. My clothes. All of it. Somebody got into my locker. I smell like—like trash and everyone keeps laughing and—"
Her voice broke off. For a second, he saw something under the anger. Embarrassment. Humiliation. The same thing Kendra had felt with the bucket of slime.
He glanced toward Kendra again.
She was looking right at him this time.
Her expression said nothing.
Her eyes said everything.
Vengeance solves nothing, people always say.
Dominic wasn't so sure.
All he knew was that if this was a war, it had just moved into a new phase—and he was stuck right in the middle of it.