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“Try to tame that hair too,” she said, already turning to go. “Oh, and Freddie says to tell you she’s sorry about something involving wings? I didn’t ask. I’ve learned not to ask with her.”

She turned on her heel and if the flooring hadn’t been carpet, her heels would have clacked to announce her every step.

I waited until she disappeared down the stairs before sagging against the door.

When I went back inside, I found five sorority sisters and one baby donkey all trying to look innocent.

“Oh my gosh,” Hannah said, peering at the book in my hands. “Is that the hockey romance based on The Taming of the Shrew ? It’s book one in that spicy rom-com series and I just finished book three.”

“You’ve read them?” My voice came out squeakier than intended.

“Are you kidding? We all have,” Bettie chimed in. “I already finished that one. I stayed up all night to see how it ended. The scene where the hero has to reorganize the heroine’s entire closet as punishment? Iconic.”

My stomach twisted. I’d worked hard on making that scene as a subtle nod to my older sister and her infamous closet organization system.

Parker caught my eye and gave me a tiny shake of her head. Right. Stay calm. Act normal.

“I’ll have to check it out,” I managed.

The donkey chose that moment to headbutt my knee, either offering comfort or demanding attention. Knowing him, probably both.

“Your sister’s so polished. But also intense,” Alice said, watching me scratch behind his ears. “Like, channeling Victoria Beckham intense. Don’t hate me, but I’m not sad we only see her a couple times a year, even if she is a KAT alum.”

I snorted before I could stop myself. “You have no idea. Although she’s less Beckham and more...”

“Posh Spice?” Parker suggested with a knowing grin.

The room went silent. Then everyone started giggling.

“Oh my god.” Hannah’s eyes went wide. “Freddie is so Sporty Spice, and Rosalind is definitely Scary Spice.You totally have all the Spice Girls as your siblings, don’t you?”

“No?” But I was already laughing too. “Maybe? Don’t you dare tell them I call them that.”

“Your secret’s safe with us.” Alice patted the donkey’s head. “All your secrets are.”

If they only knew. Looking around at their smiling faces, I almost wished I could tell them everything. But as I set my sister’s gift on my desk, watching the late afternoon sun glint off the gold foil cover, I wondered how many secrets one person could keep before they all came tumbling down.

“Okay, I’ve got class. Who is donkey-sitting?” Parker grabbed her backpack and gave baby donkey a scritch between the ears.

“It’s definitely my turn, and I could use the quiet study time.” By which I meant I didn’t want anyone around while I worked on my manuscript.

Baby donkey got a parade of coos and cuddles as everyone filed out. Parker was the last to leave, pausing at the door. “You sure you don’t want company for your shift?”

“No, it’s fine.” I gestured to my laptop. “I’ve got some writing to do. Better to focus without an audience.”

Once I was alone, I collapsed onto my bed, the donkey curling up by my feet. My phone buzzed with the family group chat.

Freddie: EMERGENCY FAMILY MEETING

Catalina: What now?

Freddie: Abuela comes back in 2 weeks!!

Ophelia: That’s not an emergency.

Freddie: She’s been gone for half a year! We need to plan something epic!

Rosalind: No glitter bombs this time.

Freddie: That was ONE TIME.

Catalina: We’re not letting you plan anything involving pyrotechnics either.

Me: Or livestock.

Freddie: You’re no fun anymore, T.

Freddie: Also, I said I was sorry about the donkey thing.

Ophelia: What donkey thing?

Catalina: Don’t ask.

Rosalind: Can we focus? Some of us have actual work to do.

My phone buzzed again, this time with a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Same time, same place on Thursday?

I frowned. Had to be Flynn. How did he get my number? And why did that make my stomach do a weird little flip?

The donkey nudged my hand, leaving a tiny glitter smudge from his wings on my palm. I still needed to figure out how to get those off without hurting him.

Me: How did you get this number, Kingman?

Flynn: Parker. I like her. For tutoring purposes only, obviously.

Me: I’m not tutoring you.

Flynn: Study purposes then.

I glanced at the color-coded schedule Alice had created. Thursday after Shakespeare was my donkey-sitting shift.

Flynn: Actually nvm. Combine workout on Thursday.

I definitely didn’t feel disappointed. Not even a little.

Flynn: But I can do Friday. I’ve got weights in the morning, so after that?

Me: How do you know I’m not already busy? And I’m not hanging out with a stinky jock.

Flynn: Like I don’t already know your schedule? But fine, are you free on Wednesday? I promise to shower and douse myself in jock-scented body spray.

Me: Fine. But skip the spray. Coffee shop?

Flynn: Unless you’re scared to be seen with me in public.

Me: In your dreams, Kingman.

Flynn: Probably.

I nearly dropped my phone. Before I could process that, the family chat erupted again.

Freddie: MARIACHI BAND

Catalina: NO

Ophelia: What about a nice dinner? I’ll cater from the restaurant.

Freddie: While we all love Las Barditas food, just a dinner is BORING. This is AbuelaNovela we’re talking about. We need DRAMA!

Rosalind: I have classes to study for and don’t do drama.

Me: Dinner sounds good.

Catalina: With NO surprise entertainment.

Freddie: You’re all crushing my creative spirit.

I set my phone down and picked up the book Catalina had brought, running my fingers over the gold foil letters of my pen name. She’d even bought the special edition.

“What am I doing?” I asked the donkey.

He just blinked at me, then went back to methodically destroying a throw pillow one tiny, baby donkey bite at a time.

Baby Donkey had the right idea. One problem at a time.

First, find the donkey a home outside of the sorority house. Maybe even a forever home. And a forever name .

Then figure out how to keep my agent happy without exposing my identity with —eek— press.

Then deal with my family, school, graduation, what to do after graduation, deal with Mamá...

Then maybe, possibly, figure out why Flynn Kingman’s text messages made me want to simultaneously smile and throw my phone out the window.

Or maybe I’d just ignore that last one entirely.