Prank Wars Page 13

  “Just when you think you know the enemy…he shows you just how much you don’t.”

  —Madeleine’s War Journal Entry (Wednesday, May 30th).

  I escaped out the back door of the Benson building. It had rained while we were in class. A thick fog settled over everything. The streetlights above me were on. It was a surreal thing for a spring morning. The bell tower tolled nine o’clock just as my cell phone went off.

  “Mad Dog.” It was Tory.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you coming home?”

  “Yeah, why?” She hung up on me and I stared at my cell, trying to figure her out.

  “Are you crazy?” Byron jerked my pink camo cell from me. His muscular forearm brushed against mine. “That thing is lethal.”

  “Yeah, and you’ve got your own. Go fry your brain with it.”

  “Don’t worry. I have it safely stored away from my heart and organs. Contrary to popular belief, I do want to live a long and healthy life…with kids and stuff.”

  I wrestled my phone back from him. “People like you shouldn’t have kids.”

  “With people like you?” he asked.

  I stopped wrestling with him. “What?”

  He grinned. “What?”

  I flattened my lips into a firm line. Single life was the only culture where you were making up excuses to part ways before you could say hello. That’s how I normally kept things with Lord Byron, but ever since that nursery job, we couldn’t stop crossing paths. The bishop had a lot to answer for.

  I jerked my phone away from him and we both headed down the lane. The fence was covered in creepers, pyro, and stalkers—a pretty lane of vines with disturbing names. We were very secluded with the fog. My only fear was that Byron would think I walked home with him because I liked him, but I knew better than to fall for him. The rule was to not want anything, especially something like this. Crushes made you act stupid, desperate, and eventually broke your heart. I didn’t want any of it. I looked everywhere but at Byron. He broke the silence. “Are you satisfied now that you found your phantom?”

  “You knew who she was,” I accused.

  His gaze shot to mine. Before he could respond, some guy came out of the fog and strode past us. He looked like he was talking to himself, except he was on a Bluetooth. It was the only thing keeping him from looking like a raving lunatic, and he was speaking in a different language. Everyone did here. BYU would be a veritable recruiting bonanza for the CIA, except we were all crazy. I turned back to Byron. “So why don’t we ever see Thanh at home?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “She’s probably a grad student.”

  “In physics. And stop pretending you don’t know. What project is she working on?” He didn’t answer and I tried to work it out in my mind. “She’s leading a double life of intrigue, working on top secret inventions.”

  “Yeah, ’cause grad students do that all the time.”

  I glanced over at him, deciding to make it even more dramatic for his benefit. “And that note you wanted? It...was meant for her.”

  By now his calm exterior seemed a little strained. He downed some tic tacs, his black hair flying back. “Hey, uh…” We had reached a fork in the pathway. He studied my face. “I’ve got a study group I’ve got to go to.”

  So, why was he asking my permission? “You may go then,” I waved him away with a casual hand and left him behind in the trail. “I’m sure all the girls in your group will thank me.”

  “Really?” he called after me, “Did you really just say that?” I stiffened at the familiar incredulous note. “Sometimes I have better things to do than play the field and hang with hotties. Sometimes I actually care about school. It’s funny, I know.”

  I stopped short. His attempt at another guilt trip wasn’t fooling me. “Is it Holly? Has she changed you then?”

  The muscle on his jaw worked overtime. “Yeah, about that? Where did you get Holl…?” he trailed off, remembering. “You were there in my apartment. You heard everything?”

  “Of course, and I was thinking—what about that poor flight attendant we all thought you were dating?”

  His face got red and he snapped. I actually physically saw him snap, and I jumped back in surprise. “Well, I have two hands,” he said sarcastically. “What better use for them. I’ll just put a woman on each arm.”

  “Ooh, I hate…”

  He cut me off. “So do I. Players muck up the field.” He closed the gap between us, his lips parting to reveal a dangerous smile. I could smell the tic tacs on his breath. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

  “Yeah, I want to date a flight attendant.”

  “You should. It’s great. And that’s the other thing. You should get out more. Do something more than getting your revenge on men. Maybe you could work on your social provocity a little.”

  I gasped, not sure whether to laugh or cry. I loved that he was making provocity into a word, but was Lord Byron actually giving me dating advice? “You’re right.” I walked backwards, trying to put more distance between us. It was my favorite thing to do lately. I tried to match his sarcasm. “You know what the worst thing is? When I get off the phone with my mom and she’s always crying. It sometimes makes me think I’m doing something wrong with my life. Poor little ol’ me. I think I’ll drown my sorrows in ice cream and chocolate!”

  He choked on his tic tacs. “Great. Your life is a chick flick in the making.”

  “I don’t believe in those, but thanks for the thought. You got me right here.” I laid a hand on my heart.

  “Impossible. There’s nothing there.” He was moving away, but it didn’t stop us from shouting back and forth between the fog. I could barely see him anymore.

  “Wow, you’re brilliant,” I called. “You’ve got me all figured out. Forget geology. You should go into psychiatry, Byron. You’ve missed your calling.”

  “Get a life.”

  “Okay, psychiatry is out. Have you tried diplomacy?” I gave him a slow sarcastic clap. “You’re truly amazing. No? Okay, espionage. It suits you better. You can’t ever give me a straight answer.” I was sure he was way out of earshot and I found myself smiling. Fighting with Byron always put me in a good mood. Nothing was funnier than imagining Byron fuming on his way to his study group. Maybe, just maybe he would forget the girls and concentrate on his studies just to spite me. Probably not. The moment I stepped away, I knew he forgot me.

  I crossed under a streetlight and it turned off menacingly. Why did those things always have motion detectors that worked against me? The soft pad of sneakers slapped against the cement behind me, and my head perked up at the noise. Whoever it was, they were heading my way. I hoped it wasn’t an enraged Byron. The thought made me giggle. Wait, hadn’t Tory called to see if I was on my way home? I was due for another scare, and this was just the place for it, dark and forbidding. A twig snapped in front of me and I stopped, staring into the blank fog. I was surrounded by it. Where was she? Behind me or in front of me? Every sense tingled with the danger. There was no way of knowing really. The running feet behind me became more pronounced and I braced myself for the inevitable. But why did I have to wait for her to get me? No! Not this time. If she wanted to scare me, she’d have to fight for it. This time, I’d outrun her.

  I picked up my feet and crossed the street into a parking lot. A few drivers circled their cars around me like sharks, thinking I was going for my car. Poor people. I had no parking spot to offer them. Their motors ran gloomily in the eerie light. The fog was so thick I could barely make out their shiny bumpers. I waved them to pass me, and once again they left me in dismal silence.

  I lost the direction of Tory’s footsteps. For all I knew she could be inches from me, hiding behind a car, in the bushes. Looking every which way, I spotted a poster stapled to an electric pole: Need help with cleaning checks? We’ll clean your apartment for $5.

  Wow, that was a steal. Despite the danger, I tore off one of the numbers…and realized they looked familiar: Call us.
Tory, Madeleine, Kali, Sandra, Lizzie. I gasped and ripped the fake advertisement from the pole, doing some major damage control. I just hoped I was the first to see that thing or our phones would ring off the hook. Already a few of the numbers had been pulled off. Stupid Byron. Too late I felt the feet pounding the pavement behind me. I braced myself just as the jogger rushed for me, ruffling my hair. He? I barely had time to look when I heard the scream. Tory jumped out from behind her tree and the jogger pulled back with a startled grunt. His hand formed into a fist.

  “No!” I sprang towards them. “It’s only Tory! It’s okay!”

  The jogger turned to look at me and I fell back in complete embarrassment. Eric? He was in BYU shorts and rumpled J Dawgs T-shirt. Why did he always get caught up in our misadventures? By now Tory’s mouth was open, her red hair falling over her face. She made a beautiful mugger in her basketball shorts. I was surprised Eric’s heart hadn’t melted at the mere sight of her—I mean, after the scare—but he just looked irritated. “Oh, you again!”

  “Whoops.” Tory actually looked ashamed of herself. She tugged nervously on her Running is for Criminals shirt.

  “Sorry.” I apologized for Tory—she didn’t know how to do it herself. “She sometimes comes out of nowhere.”

  Eric took a deep breath, seeming to count. He turned from me to stretch, leaning heavily on his Nikes, the muscles on his calves flexing. The rubber soles squeaked against the pavement. He kept an eye on Tory like she was a dangerous animal…in a way, she was. “So, what possesses you to jump out at innocent joggers? Huh?”

  I shrugged. “We thought you were someone else?” It sounded pretty lame.

  Eric broke into a laugh, surprising me. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.” Tory looked uncomfortable, her arms stiff at her sides. “Well?” Eric straightened and turned his full attention on me. “You’ll have to make it up to me this time, Mad. Maybe dinner? I like Mexican food.”

  “What?” Even though he was cute, I wasn’t giving into his blackmail. I grinned. “You’re gonna make Tory go out with you?”

  Eric’s smile easily reached his hazel eyes. He clearly thought we were a riot. “Wow, it’s like you’ve stepped right out of the pages of a comic book. You’re unreal.” I reddened in embarrassment and it only made his grin bigger. “Do you ever let go? C’mon, you can tell me. You’re the kind of girl who sings really loud in the shower.”

  “Are you kidding?” I managed a grin at Tory. “I have to be fully aware of my surroundings.” Or I’d feel a glass of cold water thrown over the shower curtain.

  “Well, if you ever want some real fun, you know where to find me.”

  “Do you even have a place...?”

  He laughed in realization. “Yeah, I’m still working on that. I’ll have a housewarming party as soon as I do…though I have the feeling you’re not big on parties. Maybe you and I could do something more priv—?”

  “No, we’ll go.” I protested. “We love parties.” His eyes took on a frustrated glint, and I found myself trying to make up for emphasizing we. I don’t know why I did it, but there was no turning back now. “I’m sure your party will give me a chance to work on my social provocity a little,” I used Byron’s made-up word.

  Eric nodded, never understanding most of what I said anyway. He thrust his hand out to me. “Until our next exciting adventure then.” I took his hand. It was strong and firm and felt really nice over mine. He surprised me by pulling me into a huge bear hug. My breath came out with a whoosh of surprise and he rubbed my back for good measure.

  I tried not to wriggle free. “I can hardly wait,” I muttered into his chest, but I was lying. Not because I didn’t like him. I did. Normally, I made the most of everything, just not where guys were concerned because our next meeting would make me look even stupider. He let me go and with a casual salute, jogged away, disappearing into the fog. I put my arm around the forlorn Tory. “You’re gonna get arrested one of these days.”

  She giggled a little bit. “I think he likes you.”

  “I’m talking about this war, not him.” I held up the poster I had confiscated from the pole.

  “Oh yeah, that’s what I’m trying to say. I’ve received new intel.” Tory wiped her sweatband against her sweaty face. “Your mom couldn’t get a hold of you, so she called me with the report. She got your engagement pictures in the mail.”

  I gasped. Fake engagement pictures? Just what my mom needed, false hope. “Byron!” I rushed blindly for home with Tory doggedly matched my stride. He was out to ruin my life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Day 109

  1604 hours

  “Never underestimate your enemy; never assume he has a heart when he has horns.”

  —Madeleine’s War Journal Entry (Friday, June 1st).

  How could he? You left mothers alone! That was the number one rule in pranking…well, I had a lot of number one rules, but that one was definitely at the top.

  Tory and I got Byron’s apartment door open with an ease born of experience. I was still in my black yoga pants from class, not having time to change. It was our only window of opportunity. We had to wait two whole days to get back at him. Byron was at the gym. The twins were in class. Rock? Well, he might be taking a nap in the back, but nothing stirred him. Gingerly lifting my canvas Chucks, I picked my way through the gauntlet of junk on the floor, a deadly obstacle course for any visitor, let alone cat burglars. “I don’t remember ransacking their place,” I joked.

  Tory laughed, strutting inside. She had changed from her school clothes to a slouchy tee and cropped jeans. She surveyed the damage. There were still remnants of our last visit. The guys hadn’t bothered to take down our beautiful curtains. The doilies and stuffed animals were strewn across the room. “Don’t they ever clean up around here?” she asked.

  “It’s kind of cute.”

  Tory gave me a weird look and set our creepy dummy on their couch. It was made up from clothes we found from the DI boxes in the laundry room. It stared back at us with red, cold eyes. The boys would have a mini heart attack when they came home to find the phantom waiting for them. I briefly considered the couch, but it was too heavy to take. Besides, there wasn’t enough time. We’d leave it for a different sting. Tory unscrewed the cable from the computer in a vicious counterstrike. She was through playing. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Just little extras.” Tory unscrewed a few light bulbs too, but left them in. The guys would buy new ones before realizing that it was completely unnecessary. They basically owed her their year’s supply. I roamed freely through the cramped kitchen. There were a number of possibilities for mischief: a little Anbesol around the top of the milk jugs, fake bugs and flies in their cereal, crumpled newspapers as high as their waists. But it was a covert operation, get in, leave the message, get out. I noticed the black backpack left behind on a chair. It was an ugly thing and I recognized it immediately. It was Byron’s, but no way. That was another unwritten rule. Don’t mess with school stuff. Almost unwittingly, I found myself picking it up. “No!” Even Tory knew we were getting in too deep. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “He declared war,” I heard myself saying. “He made us all late for class. He messed with my mom! He deserves it.”

  She hung back uncertainly. It wasn’t often Tory was caught in a moral dilemma.

  “Don’t worry; it’s just a simple extraction.” I said. “We’ll give it back to him tonight…filled with all sorts of nice things. In fact, we’ll leave a ransom note.” I picked up a marker from their white board and a piece of pristine white paper from their printer. I began the note in my fanciest flowery handwriting: We want dates, lots of dates…

  Tory broke into a laugh. “Are you serious?”

  “No.”

  And ice cream on those dates. Lots of chocolate. And maybe…if you could sign up for the boyfriend-for-a-week-program, that would be absolutely delightful too.

  “They’ll think it’s AmyLee,” Tory
was quick to point out.

  “Yep.” I turned the paper over and pulled out a white crayon from my pocket. “Now for the real letter.” I entitled it: List of demands. I brought the crayon to my lips, thinking. Perhaps it was best to keep it close to the letter we found on Thanh’s door: In regards to your backpack: we know where you live, and we want what’s ours: the cushions, our peace of mind, our self-respect. Pretty much our lives back. Do it or die. I put a smiley face on the end, and glanced up at Tory. “See? We can play nice.”

  Tory’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t think they’ll be able to read that.”

  “Not until someone colors over the message with a different color of crayon. It’s ingenious, see?” I placed a red crayon under the paper. “Only Byron will get it.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll tell him.” I threw the backpack over my shoulder. It felt a little heavy…just like the guilt welling up inside me…but as soon as I recognized it, I squelched it. Byron was winning this war because the man had no conscience. It was about time I followed his lead, which meant I’d have no problem taping the Traitor and Disavowed signs on the gamers’ door downstairs. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Day 109

  1632 hours

  “Knocking down doors is much harder than enticing someone to let you in…especially if you’re holding flowers.”

  —Madeleine’s War Journal Entry (Friday, June 1st).

  Tory and I sneaked inside my apartment moments after infiltrating Byron’s apartment. His heavy backpack was flung over my shoulder. Before I could hide it from Lizzie’s prying eyes, I saw the scene of carnage before me. The watered-over eyes. The happy smiles. My roommates hugged popcorn and M&Ms close to their hearts. They sat on the floor in a nest of blankets. The cushion-free couch was a little uncomfortable.