Showcase entry for call_me_clover

Pitch:

Teenage James Bond meets every prank-filled sibling rivalry ever known.

An elite private school student is in the midst of a prank war turned real war when she uncovers the new Headmaster's plans to murder members of the student body. While everyone is frozen scared, she unites the school and leads the charge in the battle for survival, armed with spy gadgets, delinquent talents and steel-forged friendships.

Blurb:

Nicole, an ambitious but overlooked student at elite private school, Waterbridge Academy, is ready for her junior year to be all kinds of fun.

While her focus should be classes and homework, they take second string to Hijinks, the epic prank battle between two student armies, fought over the course of the year. Tension and enthusiasm are running high; winning means bragging rights and not having to forfeit comforts, like the best pizza in town, to the opposition for the next year.

As part of the Thunderbird army, Nicole is a recon and stealth specialist. She spends half her time spying and hovering like a fly just outside of the Hellhounds leaders' notice, so she can learn their plans. The other half is spent carrying out clandestine after-curfew pranks at her superior's often short-notice orders. To resident hottie "General" Kellen Fitzpatrick of the Thunderbird army, Nicole is little more than a sibling. That is—until the war turns real.

When the students of Waterbridge Academy are forced into a battle for their lives, will Nicole be strong enough to lead the charge?

First 1K words:

The students of Waterbridge Academy were at war.

There isn't much else I could say about the academy as there wasn't much else we cared about. Our regular lives were full of the difficulties that came with being a teenager, and the added drama of coming from families with status and money. At Waterbridge, our home away from our families, Hijinks was our escape and took up most of our lives.

"You think he'd know how to park."

I examined the crooked parking job while I twirled the keys on my finger, not nearly as surprised as my bestie, Jess. The green sports car, obnoxious in a way that made it perfect for a car chase movie, belonged to the General. Ten minutes earlier it had swerved onto campus, tires screaming, horn blaring and cursing fit for a group of sailors streaming out the windows. It crashed into the parking lot, veering wildly until it screeched into a spot just narrowly vacated by two boys from the swim team.

I gestured at the destroyed shrubs and smirked. "With that kind of driving?"

"But that was because she grabbed the wheel." Jess chewed her lip thoughtfully. "You know, I wonder why they came together?"

"Don't care." I yanked open the trunk and began pulling bags out, dropping them heavily onto the pavement. Slamming it shut, I hauled up two of the bags and headed to the residence building.

I am Nicole Kemper, daughter of an ex-model turned perpetual dazed junkie and a big screen action hero with a life's goal of eradicating domestic violence. Off campus, I was often chased by paparazzi, my life and everything about it constantly compared and measured against my parents' achievements. On campus, I was simply Private Kemper, and that anonymity was kind of okay.

It didn't take long after arriving on campus for me to shed summer Nicole and slip into the familiarity of being Private Kemper. The school year technically didn't begin for two days, but already the majority of the student body had been reduced to nameless peons. Still, when given my orders, I obediently marched off to fulfill my part in the 'war'.

Which is why, like hotel porters, Jess and I, were bringing the General's bags up to his room.

"Why are we doing this?" I tried to balance the weight of the overstuffed duffel and weekender bags I carried. Jess was three steps below me, though she had the much smaller, wheeled bag that slapped the back of each stair as she pulled it after her.

"I wish he asked someone else. I don't want to be lugging his crap!" Her blonde head shook as she whined. Jess Kida could have been in a Japanese girl band, with her large brown eyes, slender frame and pale honey complexion.

"Right?" I laughed. "He should have known you didn't even lug yours in, Princess!"

"Shut up, He-man!"

We both knew we did it because it was an order and whatever our Elite said was law. While that is a bit of an exaggeration, most students obeyed the Thunderbirds Trifecta or the Hellhounds Triad blindly.

It wasn't anything like the normal high school social hierarchy, based on looks, style and wealth, and laden with bullying. With all of us being wealthy, money was hardly a footing. No, our hierarchy was based on a military model, Generals, Sergeants and soldiers, or sublings, as we'd been affectionately named. The closest we came to bullying was when our orders leaked into the territory of mundane everyday tasks that the Elite didn't want to waste their time on.

As we stopped outside the room, we heard the General's voice; a full fledged strategy meeting was already taking place. "Whatever we do, it's got to be big. We need to blow that Hellbitch out of the water."

With a groan, I knocked my elbow against the door. It opened only a crack at first and a single brown eye peered at us, before we were allowed admittance. When we entered, no one in the room bothered to pay us any attention, all too concentrated on the whiteboard in front of them.

Jess and I dropped the bags and flopped to the floor to catch our breath. And to ogle. They weren't not-so-secretly called the Hotness Trifecta for nothing.

"What about..." Thick brown-blonde brows furrowed and a long brown finger tapped a ridiculously full bottom lip. "No, not big enough," muttered the boy, leaning so his chair tipped back.

Lieutenant Colonel Napoleon Phillips. Son of an R&B singer that most of the female students had taped to their walls, and a former Victoria's Secret model. The Thunderbirds' third in command.

Jess sighed.

"Yeah, it needs to be big." A charismatic grin etched on the face of the boy with thick black hair as he slid his chair across the weathered hardwood flooring. "You know she'll go big!"

Command Sergeant Major Jackson Kida. Offspring of a Japanese media giant CEO and a former Miss Philippines. Thunderbirds second in command. Jess' older brother.

I sighed.

"There's a lot to be said for subtlety though." Leaning his tall body on the edge of the white desk we all had in our rooms, with hazel eyes narrowed in focus, he pushed his dark curls off an ivory complexioned face.

General Kellen—Hotness—Fitzpatrick. Crown prince of the Fitzpatrick Hotels empire and the Sloane talent management agency. Head shit of the Thunderbirds.

So completely swoon worthy that both Jess and I sighed.

Jess grinned suddenly; we were sitting among Kellen Fitzpatrick's bags. Sliding the zipper, she nudged the duffel till it gaped open. With a gleeful look, she dove in, only to discover it was just clothes. I don't know what she had expected.

"Argh! Any word on what she might be planning?" Kellen's sudden outburst caused Jess and I to jump. I grinned at her guilty expression and systematically began unpacking the duffel.

"What are you asking me for? You're the one who sat in a car with her for six hours!"

"Yeah, Leon. She spilled all her plans to me, and we gossiped about cute boys and sang along to the radio!"

Hijinks had started with Kellen and his nemesis Katia intentionally sabotaging each other at every turn, a result of intense hate. Their actions, like a blackhole, started pulling friends and other students in. It was either pick an allegiance, or fall victim to the sometimes extreme pranks that went under the radar of the staff. Like the one the guys were trying to plan at that moment.

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