“What’s the plan?” she asked, getting down to business. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at nine,” Poppy said. “We’ll head over to Smitty’s for supplies—” “Donuts, right? You mean donuts?” “Of course I mean donuts.” “Okay. Continue.” “Then we begin plans for our counterattack. I think we need to start with . . .” Poppy trailed off, replaying the news segment in her mind. With what? A simple reciprocal prank wouldn’t work this time. It would have to be epic. It would have to match what Blake did, then surpass it. It would have to destroy him. Humiliate him. REVENGE WOULD BE HERS. You’re only perpetuating the bullying cycle, her internal voice of reason piped up. You’re only going to provoke him further, escalating the war until everyone loses. All good points. But on the other hand: REVENGE. “This is all blowback from the pantsing fiasco,” Jill was saying. “He thought you were weak. He didn’t expect you to fight back. But you did, and voilà, here’s the fallout.”
