Deadly First Day Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Also by Emily Kazmierski

  Copyright © 2019 Emily Kazmierski

  For the girls who haven’t yet found their voice.

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  About the Author

  Embassy Academy:

  Deadly First Day

  Emily Kazmierski

  Also by Emily Kazmierski

  Embassy Academy Trilogy

  Deadly First Day

  Lethal Queen Bee (Winter 2020)

  Killer Final Exams (Spring 2020)

  Ivory Tower Spies Series

  For Your Ears Only

  The Walk-in Agent (a Julep Short Story)

  The Eyes of Spies

  Spy Your Heart Out

  Spy Got Your Tongue

  Over My Dead Body

  Other Novels

  Malignant

  Life Among the Ashes

  All-American Liars

  Copyright © 2019 Emily Kazmierski

  Cover Design: Jessica Pierce, Parker Premades

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2019

  ISBN: 8-1-7322435-6-9

  www.EmilyKazmierski.com

  For the girls who haven’t yet found their voice.

  You will.

  1

  Li Na

  Li Na stomped into the bathroom, letting the door slap shut behind her. The force of it ensured that no one would follow her inside. Cultivating a reputation as a colossal bitch had been easy. Pride caused her to snap at the first joke she heard about the shoddy workmanship of Chinese goods, and the sharp looks her classmates had given her had kept her from backing down. Even her closest friends, when they found out some of their favorite skin-care products had been made in China, looked at them with wary scrutiny that hadn’t been there before. Na let the unbridled indignation coursing through her direct her actions, making her as outwardly prickly as the spiked seed pods that fell from the chestnut tree outside her window back in Beijing.

  All of the crap U.S. diplomats put her father through only fueled her resentment. He was single-handedly trying to revolutionize the plight of the manual laborers throughout their great country, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

  Well, Na would see about that. She’d busted her butt during her three previous years at the academy, and this year would be no different. And once she graduated, she would go back to China with an education that had primed her for a future in politics. Her parents would be so proud of her they wouldn’t be able to see straight. Then maybe they’d stop fawning over her younger brother.

  It wasn’t enough that she was a straight A+ student, and gorgeous. On top of that, she had the love of a handsome, sweet boy. Never mind that he was American and not Chinese. Her parents had been able to overlook that when they’d found out who his father was. An up-and-coming senator who was poised to be the next JFK. A political darling with charming good looks, too.

  Na glared at herself in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hands over her uniform jacket. The scarlet and navy made her porcelain skin glow.

  Too bad the stupid new girl had tried to ruin her clothes before class even started this morning. Na was positive that the girl had dumped her warm coffee all over the front of Na’s blouse on purpose. She’d seen it before; the new girl with a chip on her shoulder and something to prove did something aggressive as a way to catapult herself up the teetering rungs of the social ladder here at Embassy Academy. Well, if Charlotte’s little miss doe-eyes stepsister thought she’d knock Na down a few pegs with a cup of lukewarm caffeine, she was sorely mistaken. Because Na had already scoped out this Adrienne chick, and she wasn’t a threat. With ancient, threadbare clothes and a penchant for shutting herself away in her townhouse kitchen at all hours of the night, this girl didn’t have what it took to usurp Na’s place at the top of the pyramid. And she’d know it soon enough.

  Na would make sure of it.

  This year had to be perfect.

  It’s why she was waiting in the bathroom. She’d arranged for the meeting to occur here the first morning of classes, when everyone was so busy running around like tourists without GPS to notice someone coming into the girl’s bathroom who definitely should not have been in here.

  And normally, people would notice.

  He stuck out like a diamond mined from the rich, earthy soil when everyone else was rocking moissanite crystals. Years of stealing her mom’s jewelry had taught Na the difference. Hell, if he wasn’t completely off limits…

  It was her senior year. Maybe Na could afford a secret indiscretion or two. It was something to ponder. Leaning toward the mirror, she applied another coat of her signature cherry red lipstick, puckering and admiring her pout.

  There. Perfect.

  Out in the hallway, the warning bell rang, and the lingering students dispersed, their voices fading as they receded down the corridor toward their second period classes. He was cutting it close, but Na didn’t mind. Her second period teacher liked her, and would allow her to slip into class a minute or two late.

  Footsteps approached the bathroom without a hint of hesitation in their cadence.

  Finally.

  Na flipped around and leaned back against the sparkling marble counter, putting on her best come-hither smile.

  But the form who filled the doorway was not the one she expected. She bristled with indignation.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Her voice sounded sharp, even to her, but it was warranted. She’d done everything to make sure no one would bother her in here, and here was someone who had dared to come in anyway.

  The door swung shut, leaving them in silence.

  “Get out. I’m using the bathroom right now.”

  The interloper didn’t speak, but took a step toward Na. A dangerous look glinted in narrowed, intent eyes.

  Na had never seen that look before, but her baser instincts recognized it. Fear crawled up her spine, making the baby hairs at the nape of her neck quiver. Her heart skipped a beat as she backed toward the bathroom stalls. If she could just get inside and lock the door, she’d be safe.

  Hands clenched in determination as the figure skulked nearer.

  Na’s fingers scrambled for the door to the stall, squeezing through it and attempting to slam it closed. But before she could, the figure had wedged in between the laminated wooden door and the wall, still glaring at her.

  Her tongue swelled in her throat, effectively cutting off the shrill scream that had risen, unbeckoned.

  Eyes wide, she tried to climb up onto the toilet to get away from the advancing hulk. Her foot splashed into the toilet bowl, and revulsion washed over her. She glanced down to find purchase f
or her feet, but as soon as her eyes left the figure she knew it had been a mistake.

  A resolute arm swung out, fist clenched, and slammed into Na’s belly, the rough knuckles piercing her tender flesh.

  She doubled over, clutching her stomach and gasping for air. “Stop,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath. But she wouldn’t beg, not even for her own life.

  Her attacker showed no mercy. That punishing arm swung out again, jamming a sharp object deep into the side of the girl’s neck, and twisting.

  The adrenaline pumping through Na’s veins kept her from registering the fullness of the pain that cut through her, but the warm, thick liquid seeping down her throat caught her attention. She tried to reach up to staunch the bleeding, but she could already feel her life force leaving her. Her limbs weakened as she slumped down over the toilet seat.

  Spots appeared, obliterating her vision.

  Her hearing tunneled, making the snick of the bathroom door closing sound so unreachably far away.

  Na tried to push herself up, but her arms and legs were no longer hers to command. She slumped toward the ice cold marble floor, her plea for help dying on her tongue.

  2

  Four Days Earlier

  Adrienne

  My mom always said to never get in a stranger’s car. I guess she didn’t really mean it. That’s the only explanation for my current situation. I’m in a nondescript, black sedan. With a stranger.

  Well, practically a stranger.

  Mere inches separate us, making the left side of my body tingle with nerves at his close proximity. It’s a new and strange sensation. I do not like it. With subtle movements, I inch toward the window, hoping he doesn’t notice that I’m trying to put more space between us. Ease the discomfort of this crappy situation that my mom has put me in.

  He’s sitting upright in his seat, the lines of his tailored black suit all business as he reads dense documents on his tablet, making occasional notes. He hasn’t said a single word to me since we got into the car, which makes it even more painful.

  Anger mixes with fear in my stomach, like a vinegar and baking soda volcano that’s threatening to overflow. I shift on the posh leather seat so I can see him out of the corner of my eye.

  Ugh. Mom gets dragged off to Antarctica for her job as a biologist, and she ships me off to Washington, D.C. with a man I know mostly from television interviews and debates. A man I actively ignore, even with Mom insisting I should pay attention to his work. He’s a representative of our state, after all, and his presence in our government is important. She even voted for him during the last election.

  When she told me I was moving to the capitol, I balked. Fought tooth and nail. I’m starting my junior year in high school in four days, and I had everything planned out. I was even thinking about starting a baking club.

  I can’t believe my mom did this to me. Now I have to start junior year as the new girl in an elite, preppy, super expensive boarding school with a bunch of rich, snobby politicians’ kids. Yay. Even the uniforms look stuck up. I checked.

  I tangle my hands in my hair, pulling it slightly and focusing on the tension in my scalp as I stare blankly out the window. Mom framed it as a great opportunity. Think of all the programs they’ll have that your school doesn’t. Besides, she’s going to be gone for two years, and wouldn’t even consider leaving me home alone, despite the fact that I’m seventeen. Practically an adult.

  But no. Instead, I have to spend the next two years with this stranger’s kids. Actually, they’re his stepkids, but what’s the difference?

  “I wish I had my car.” I clamp my hand over my mouth, shocked that I actually said that out loud. No, fuming in silence is more my style, since my tongue doesn’t usually cooperate when I get into an argument. Instead, it goes thick and clumsy, making any retort I manage to come up with, usually ten seconds too late, stick in my throat.

  “I don’t think you’ll have much time for driving around the city. What with homework, getting to know the other students at the academy, and family obligations, you’ll be quite busy.”

  My jaw drops. Family obligations? He’s not serious, is he?

  But the set line of his features tells me he is.

  Oh, no. Does he think I’m going to play happy family with him and his replacement kids? My breathing quickens. I can’t do this. This is way too much change in way too short a time. The weight of everything is crushing me into the seat, flattening me thinner than a French crêpe. I swallow hard.

  It just goes to show that they’re important to him and I’m not.

  Me.

  His only biological daughter.

  Because the man sitting next to me, ignoring me, is my father—Senator Terrance Holt.

  This is going to be a long two years if we can’t get along.

  “Are you all right?”

  It’s the first flicker of sympathy he’s shown me since he showed up at our house, and it acts like a deglaze on a pan: loosening my muscles so I can relax, but only a tiny bit. “Yes,” I manage.

  I survey the interior of the car. Really, it’s way more than a car. The seats are large and plush, and there’s lots of legroom between us and the front row. I lean forward to take a peek past the driver. This thing has a start button instead of a hole for the ignition key. Realizing I’m gawking, I sit back and let my eyes fall to my lap, where my fingers twist in my skirt.

  The senator turns toward me, his acorn brown skin glowing in the sunlight streaming through the back window. “It may not have sounded like it back there, but I am glad you’re coming to stay with us. I welcome the chance to get to know you better.”

  Could have fooled me. Our relationship over the past seventeen years has consisted of short birthday dinners and generic presents instead of ones that proved my father knew more about me than my age and what I looked like. Like a new kitchen scale, or tickets to a concert by my favorite singer.

  “I’d like to get to know you too,” I say, glancing down at the pink box on the floor at my feet. “Want a cupcake? I made them.”

  “No thank you. I don’t eat much sugar.”

  So much for sharing my love of baking with him. I lean my head against the window, and let my eyes unfocus.

  I munch on a cupcake as our car crawls through the city traffic. It’s Saturday, so the sidewalks are packed with shoppers carrying bags from organic grocery stores and luxury designer shops. A kitchen store’s display window catches my eye. It’s full of copper pots and pans, expensive cutlery, and a top-of-the-line stand mixer. My eyes widen at its gorgeous violet color. Someday, I promise myself.

  “We’re almost there now,” the senator says. Sighing, he seems to decide something, because he locks his tablet in his briefcase and looks at me. “Before we arrive at the house, there’s something I wanted to talk with you about.”

  I sit up straighter in my seat, trying to look mature. “Okay.”

  “Next week is our party’s convention, where Senator Allegra Moss, who is the front-runner presidential candidate, will announce her running mate and vice presidential nominee. That person is going to be me.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “You’re running for vice president? Of the United States? Wow.” My voice is practically a squeak I’m so surprised. No, I’m shocked. I mean, I know the senator is pretty well liked by the people in our country, generally. At least, he comes across as intelligent, kind, and charming in the interviews my mom has made me watch. But vice president? That’s huge.

  “I am, and when that announcement is made, the entire family must be prepared. I’ll expect you to attend fundraising events with us, and act with decorum and grace.”

  Oh, no. He expects me to be graceful? Does he know me at all? I’m not exactly a swan. I’m short and a little chubby and, yeah, a little clumsy too. This just keeps getting better.

  “We will all come under scrutiny. Our current and past behavior will be studied intensely, by our party and the other parties’ campaigns.”

  I
nod furiously.

  “I’ll expect you to act in a way that is above reproach. Do you understand?”

  “Uh, yes,” I say, the tremor in my voice more apparent than I’d like, but I can’t help it. My vocal cords have a mind of their own.

  “With all of that in mind, is there anything I should know about you, before my nomination is announced? My team has already vetted your background, but is there anything you want to tell me?”

  My face heats and my stomach lurches. “No.” I’m kind of a goodie two-shoes. I admit it.

  “Good.”

  The car pulls off the tree-lined street, through a wrought iron fence, and into a red brick courtyard. There’s an intimidating three-story, red brick house with shiny, black double doors and tall, arched windows that glow from within, plus a four-car garage.

  “Here we are.”

  The driver pulls the car parallel to the entry doors, and the senator thanks him before sliding out, holding his briefcase securely in one hand. Before I can even unbuckle, the senator is swinging my door open and offering a hand.

  I grapple with my seatbelt, trying to unfasten it quickly, but it’s not budging. “Sorry,” I say, pulling at it. “I can’t seem to…”

  Reaching across me, he unbuckles the belt with a deft movement. “Let me help you out.”

  My cheeks go pink. I feel like a helpless little girl who can’t even handle a seat belt. I look up into his face, but there’s not a trace of annoyance there.

  My shoulders sag in relief. Maybe he won’t think I’m a total klutz.

  The driver pops the trunk, and the senator lifts my bloated suitcase to the ground, extending the handgrip and taking it in his free hand.

  I wrestle my overflowing box of baking supplies out of the trunk, and one of my baking tins slides out, rattling on the ground with a loud metallic clang that makes me cringe. “Sorry,” I mumble as I set the box back in the trunk and bend down to retrieve the offending jelly roll pan. Stuffing it back down in the box, I pick it up and turn toward the house.