Chapter One
Dethroned
October Edition
I wonder what the NCAA would say about hot shot hockey stud, Tucker Kane, pounding beers and eating mystery brownies at the Delta Sig house on Saturday. Are those pot brownies, Tucker? Only a drug test will tell…
You, Tucker Kane, have been dethroned.
XO,
The Queen
Tucker
My twin brother, Trent, pushes his chair out from the desk in the bedroom we share together. “Dude, you’re fucked if you don’t find out who’s writing this gossip column.” His pale blue eyes that mirror mine stare back at me in disappointment.
Uncrossing my arms, I let out a deep breath. This is not happening. Not now. Not after Trent and I were suspended for two games for swapping places in class.
“Who would do this?” I look at Trent in horror, still in shock and also terrified that this stupid article will get back to the athletic commission. “Is there a way to find out who’s writing this shit?”
I’ve never failed a drug test, but I got a little too drunk this weekend and didn’t realize what I’d eaten until the next morning. The guys at the Delta Sigma Phi fraternity house always have pot brownies, though I always pass, or at least I did. And now, because of some bitch with a vendetta against me, I might be in even hotter water than I already am with the school. Missing two games at the beginning of the season is hard enough but an entire season is another story. I can kiss my professional hockey career goodbye if that happens.
Preston, Drake, and Jamie stand next to me, glaring at Dethroned, a new gossip blog that apparently has been created by some evil girl who calls herself The Queen. Based on the posts on the site, it appears this girl has her sights set on our team. There are short articles and video clips of us doing stupid shit at fraternity parties and random pictures of us with girls.
Preston cups my shoulder, shaking his head at the computer screen. “We can find out who owns the domain. But think of this as your wake-up call, Tuck. All of your screwing around is catching up with you. Time to get your shit together. Stop drinking. Hire a tutor. Spend less time at the Delta Sig house. We need you on your A game this season if we’re going to win another championship.”
“Yeah, I got it, Prez. For the hundredth time, I got it.” Shaking off Preston’s heavy hand, I step away from my brother and friends in desperate need of space. This conversation has been on repeat lately, and I’m getting sick of having it. “I’ll figure it out. Okay?”
Preston nods and then shoves his hands into the pockets of his track pants.
No one knows me better than the guys in this room. They’re family more than friends. I grew up with all of them. We went to school together, play Division I hockey together, and now live together in a house on campus. There’s nothing we don’t share, nothing we don’t know about each other.
I can see the concern on each of their faces. Even Drake looks worried. Like his dad, he’s a giant, several inches taller than the rest of us and built like a wall of solid muscle. Apart from my brother, I’m the closest to Drake, and because of that the concern furrowing his brows hits me more than Preston’s. I realize Preston’s giving me a brotherly pep talk to snap me out of self-destruct mode—hell, I know I need it—but that doesn’t mean I want to hear it.
Running my hands through my spiky hair, I tug at the ends in frustration and lean back against the chest of drawers behind me. “We need to stop whoever’s doing this.”
“I’ll call my dad,” Preston says. “Maybe he can hire someone.”
“Nah.” I wave him off. “We’re not involving our parents. Our team is being targeted for a reason. You could be next. Any of us could be next. And who knows what this bitch is gonna say next. We need to take her down before it ruins our careers.”
“She’s got to be a student at Strick U,” Trent adds, stating the obvious.
“How do you expect us to track her down?” Drake asks.
I hold out my hand giving him a look that says ‘Are you kidding me?’ and point at Jamie, who’s a computer genius. “Jamie can find out.” I zero in on Jamie. “Right? Tell me you can hack into something and shut this website down.”
Jamie laughs. “I’m good but not that good.”
“Let Jamie sit there,” I tell Trent, who vacates his seat in front of the computer.
Jamie pushes the chair into the desk and begins clicking buttons and typing, all while my heart is pounding. The last few weeks have been a nonstop rollercoaster of drama and bullshit, hence the reason I’ve been partying more than usual. And now I’ve given this girl ammunition to use against me.