Prank Wars Read online

  Lizzie looked disapproving. “Why haven’t you given it back yet?”

  “Oh, I was going to, once I could get to it.” Since the jig was already up, I unzipped the pocket in front of the black bag to find his iPhone. My hand brushed past some keys and some lip gloss…not Chapstick. Wait? Next, I found a make-up mirror, and some pink pens. This couldn’t possibly be Byron’s? Unless he had taken up a collection from the girls he dated. I took out a purple wallet and opened it, examining the driver’s license of a beautiful, now familiar, Vietnamese girl: Thanh Phan.

  “This is Thanh’s backpack?” I said dumbly.

  Lizzie pushed me out of the way to see for herself. Kali could scarcely believe it. “You stole Thanh’s backpack?”

  “No!” Tory rose to my defense. “Byron stole Thanh’s backpack. Mad would never.”

  “Yeah? Why would Byron have Thanh’s backpack?” Sandra asked.

  “They’re probably dating,” I said, knowing I had to face it. “How else could they get close enough to switch backpacks? Maybe they went out to lunch and it happened?” The mystery was solved. It was a major blow—not to mention to my detective skills—that I hadn’t figured it out by now. I shook my head. “I thought he was going for Holly?”

  “Holly?” Sandra asked in her clipped voice. “Who?”

  “Oh, just some girl he was talking to.” I sighed. Whatever the reason, I now had Thanh’s backpack. She was a grad student. There was no way Thanh wouldn’t have noticed it missing. That was likely what she had been looking for last night. She had torn her whole place apart then headed to the school to find it. That was the reason she looked so worried when she returned, and I had been completely responsible for it all. Rummaging through her backpack, I found a cute pink phone. Before I knew it, I scrolled through Thanh’s contacts. Byron was nowhere in there. Did she have his number memorized then? I went through her missed calls and saw that most of them were blocked. Poor girl was flooded by telemarketers. She needed Unmask. Without really thinking, I typed my registration number into her phone. It was the least I could do for taking her backpack.

  Sandra bumped my arm. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” I threw Thanh’s cell back into her backpack next to her keys and zipped it up, not liking how wrong this prank had turned. It seemed poor Thanh was the brunt of all of our misdeeds lately. I’d have to do more than install Unmask to make up for it. Maybe I’d take it out on her boyfriend. No, that was worse, wasn’t it? “I need to return this,” I said.

  Lizzie gave a firm nod. “Would you like me to go with you?”

  And watch the sweetest girl in the world get dragged to jail with me? “No thank you, I’ll do this alone.” I threw the strap over my shoulder.

  “Wait,” Sandra’s hand was on my arm. She needed to cut her nails; they were digging into me. “What if Thanh wanted Byron to have her backpack? Here.” She tried to relieve me of my burden, taking on some weird motherly air she never used before. “I’ll take it to Byron and ask him what’s going on. Okay?”

  I wriggled away from her, fingernails and all. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I got myself into this. I’ll get myself out. It’s totally cool.” My brave words had absolutely no effect over her. Sandra’s blue eyes got even colder and they were fixed on Thanh’s backpack. What had gotten into her anyway? She seemed more bothered by this than Lizzie. “I’ll be back, okay?” I wasn’t sure why it was necessary to reassure Sandra anyway. “If Thanh’s not there, I’ll take it back to Byron and wash my hands of it. No big deal.”

  Sandra threw her hands up in the air. “Fine, do what you do.” She picked up her iPhone almost simultaneously, taking refuge in her room across the hall. “Pick up already.” I heard her say. She gave a sound of disgust and chucked her phone onto her chic black and white comforter. By the sounds of things, her latest boyfriend wasn’t about to let her boss him around. She glared at me through the crack of her half-closed door and slammed it. So much for her sudden burst of kindness.

  I left Sandra and the comforting arms of my more sincere roommates to make my way to Thanh’s messy apartment. One peek through Thanh’s window as I passed and I knew she hadn’t had time to clean up. I should probably pull a Lizzie and help her out. I knocked on the door and waited. No one came. It wasn’t too much of a surprise. I dug the toes of my canvas shoes into the edge of the welcome mat, thinking of a way out of this predicament. How come Byron wouldn’t admit that he knew who she was, especially since they were dating? My stomach sank as I imagined her hand in his, but I knew I needed to bury my traitorous feelings; they were getting me nowhere.

  Thanh should’ve contacted Byron to warn him of the little slip-up with their backpacks by now...except she didn’t have a phone anymore. That made sense. Still, why didn’t she say anything to him last night—unless she was too shy? She had looked a little scared when the police had us surrounded. Add the gawking neighbors, and everything could’ve slipped her mind. Maybe Byron already told her he had everything under control. It was pretty arrogant of him since he was dealing with me. At the same time, if he had explained to me that I had his girlfriend’s backpack, I would’ve surrendered it immediately. I tried to recall what Thanh had said to him last night, but all I got were images. Fear. Disappointment. Tired eyes. She had seemed so alone. I shifted under the guilt, the backpack burning a fire of shame against my shoulders. I had to get it back to this girl.

  I knocked again, but Thanh was not opening her door. What was I going to do? She couldn’t do without her backpack for another day; she was a grad student. Thanh’s keys were in her backpack. How bad would it be to just unlock her door, shove the bag inside her apartment, and forget all about it? I’d let Byron worry about getting his own stuff back and forget this ever happened. I dug around for the keys, but once I found the heavy ring of them, I had another problem. Thanh had more keys on it than most people owned in a lifetime. They were all different sizes and shapes. I inserted a few keys into the keyhole with no success and immediately lost track of where I was. I took a deep breath and marked the first key on the ring and tried again, praying no one caught me, especially Lizzie. Well, maybe Thanh could be worse. My fingers fumbled with the last key and I turned it, praying for it to work. Nothing happened. I stepped back. Seriously? A million keys and none of them belonged to her apartment?

  A quick double take behind me proved no one had seen me from the ward. A few pickup trucks and a trailer full of bedding, electronics and winter clothes had been parked next to the street. They were there for the DI service project. Cameron was at the wheel. A few girls flirted through the window by the front seat. Lizzie tromped over to the truck with her bag of DI clothes. One of the twins reached down from the truck and hauled up her stuff, throwing it onto the already heaping bed. None of them were paying attention to me. So far, so good. Thanh’s curtain was still drawn. I made my way to the window and tried to open it. It was locked.

  Thanh’s phone went off in her bag. I pocketed the keys, scrambling through the junk in her backpack to find her cute little phone. I hoped it was someone who knew her well enough to help me return her stuff. I dragged out the pink studded cell and stared at the caller ID. It wasn’t registering a number or a name. It must be a telemarketer. After a moment of stupid waiting, the number shifted into view and I grinned. Unmask unblocked the call. No name registered, but it was good enough to cause damage. Thanh could thank me later. I flipped the phone open. “Hello?”

  “You finally decided to answer, did you?”

  It didn’t sound like a telemarketer. More like an angry man. “Yeah?” I answered.

  “You made me wait long enough. We had a deal, now give me the keys and I make sure nothing bad happens.” Some idiot was trying to disguise his voice, but it wasn’t too hard to put everything together. Who knew that I had Thanh’s backpack and would also try to scare me? Byron. The freak show’s band practice must be over. It should’ve tipped me off when I saw the twins helping with the service projec
t.

  I readjusted Thanh’s phone against my ear, almost laughing with relief. “No,” I retorted. “I want my keys, you jerk!” My landlord was going to lecture me for days if we didn’t get them back, not to mention Lizzie.

  “It isn’t about what you want.”

  Well, didn’t Byron sound condescending? I smiled. He was in for it now. “Yeah? You totally went behind my back so you’re the one who’d better watch out.”

  “What is this, a game to you?”

  I shook my head slowly. “Oh no, my friend, this is war. You don’t get into a war with me, understand? Because I will win!”

  He was silent for a moment. “Who is this?”

  I smiled. “Your worst enemy.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Byron?” I asked. No answer. He had hung up. Byron really messed up this time. I had been trying to get his number forever. Sure, he couldn’t have guessed that I had already installed Unmask on Thanh’s phone, but he had to know it was a service I provided for all my friends. I found the number on caller ID and pushed reply to call him back.

  “Hello?”

  “You know,” I went on as if he didn’t just hang up on me, “…if you want something from me, why don’t you come and get it? I’ll be waiting for you, sweetie.” He hung up before I could tell him that I had something else for him too: Thanh’s black backpack. I tried to call him back again, but this time he wasn’t answering. I threw the cell phone in my pocket. “Coward,” I muttered. Tossing the backpack over my shoulder, I barged into my apartment. Kali and Tory looked up guiltily from their walkie talkies.

  “Just me,” I reassured them. I headed for the trapdoor and stuffed Thanh’s backpack into the attic again. As soon as I got some answers, I’d release it into Byron’s semi-capable hands to give to Thanh. “Hey, anyone want to go on a visit to the bunkhouse?” Kali perked up, but I refused to look at her. She’d just destroy the integrity of the mission. She already had a date with Blake from last night’s fiasco. “Tory,” I called behind my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  Kali pressed down on the walkie talkie to get over her disappointment. “Hey, cool shirt,” she cooed through it. “It matches your eyes, hotty.”

  Blake turned a full circle outside. He stood on the bed of the truck in a pile of vaguely familiar doilies and pink curtains. For once I could tell the twin apart without waiting for the telltale dimple. He jumped down from the truck bed. Kali gasped and ducked down behind the front window, her body convulsing with giggles.

  Shaking my head, I grabbed some orange sticks and arranged them hurriedly on a plate. I had been trying to get rid of them for months now. They were horrid little things from my aunt for Christmas and just perfect for Byron. I handed Tory the plate of goodies. We looked like we were on Relief Society business, nothing more. “Kali,” I called. “Watch this backpack with your life. I want to do a little investigating before I turn this over to you know who.”

  She nodded absentmindedly.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Day 110

  1013 hours

  “It’s a dreadful day when you can’t trust the enemy to do what he’s supposed to do.”

  —Madeleine’s War Journal Entry (Saturday morning, June 2nd).

  Rock’s drums assaulted our ears. Tory and I stood uneasily on their porch, shifting our weight. Byron’s roommate was going crazy with them and it sounded like the noise was coming from the back room. There was no possible way anyone inside could hear me knocking. Balancing the orange sticks, I tried it anyway, along with the doorbell. The drums didn’t stop and I tried again and again and again, putting my finger over the peephole for good measure.

  After no response, Tory took her hands out of the kangaroo pocket of her pink hoody and tried the door herself. The door opened easily, and I shook my head. When would Byron ever learn? Tory stuffed some tissue paper into the doorknob hole in the front door then stuck some duct tape over it. There was no way the guys could lock the door on us now, well, unless they used the chain. I was sure it would only work the first time around and then they’d be onto us after we broke in. I pushed open the door.

  “Wait up.”

  Tory and I both turned to see a lone figure walking up behind us. His gray hood was over his head. I squinted. He looked like one of my soldiers in olive green cargo pants rolled up above the ankles. He must be a biker because he had the muscular legs of one. As soon as his lips quirked up, I knew who it was. “Eric?” I tried to stay focused, but a little part of me melted. “What are you doing here?” I shouted over the noise. Even after all my warnings, he couldn’t possibly be looking into staying here, could he?

  “I’m waiting for…” his words were lost in Rock’s killer drum sequence.

  “I can’t hear you,” I said. “Rock is on one!”

  “Rock?”

  “The drummer.”

  “Yeah, he’s my friend!” he shouted. That wasn’t what I asked, but it answered my question anyway. At least Eric was friends with the sanest roommate in the bunch. It wasn’t saying much. I stepped over the threshold, searching for any sign of Byron. Eric caught up to me and laid his hand over my arm. I could smell the familiar scent of his Hollister cologne. “So what are you doing here?” A little smile played on his lips like he expected me to say something outrageous. He eyed my plate of orange sticks.

  Byron rounded the corner of the hall and almost ran into us. “Whoa.” He stopped himself in time, looking shocked. Apparently I had caught him by surprise. Byron was still in his striped shirt from work, the top button was undone and the sleeves rolled up. It was untucked over his mesh basketball shorts. The guy had some hairy legs. Seeing my discomfiture, Byron looked roguishly into my eyes. “Well, how about that? I almost got a hug.”

  I turned red, trying to ignore Eric’s knowing look. It looked like the orange sticks were for Byron and I tried to pretend that I didn’t care that my honor was at stake. “In your dreams,” I told Byron, mostly for Eric’s benefit.

  Byron was unruffled. “No, it really almost happened.”

  To my outrage, Tory agreed from the kitchen. “Yup.” She said it absentmindedly, which only meant she was pilfering the silver.

  “Knock it off, Tory,” I called to her. “We’re under a white flag. Remember?”

  Byron leaned against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest. He seemed to dismiss Tory, keeping an eye on Eric like he was the dangerous criminal instead. “Sit down. Our place is yours.”

  “I’m sure some of it is.” I passed our friendship plant on the way to the couch. The leaves were turning green and no longer drooped in its normally sad way. The crab meat we put in as fertilizer was helping, though it certainly wasn’t helping the smell. I faced Byron and his eyes met mine. “I’m here under a flag of truce, Byron.”

  “It’s a pleasure to see you too,” he drawled in a truly villainous way.

  “Don’t be sarcastic. I know what you’re up to.” I watched him closely, but besides a slight flicker of his eyes, he gave nothing away. He was hiding it well, whatever it was. “You know why I’m here too,” I said.

  “You made me food?”

  “You know I don’t cook...ever.”

  That stopped the conversation dead in its tracks. “S—say what?” Byron stuttered. Even Eric stopped smiling. You would think I had committed some unpardonable sin.

  “I…I’m not a great cook.” And it was completely off the subject. “I’ve got something more important to discuss.”

  “Ah yes, the orange sticks.” Byron spared them a glance.

  Eric accepted the plate for him, I could only assume out of politeness. As he sat down with the nasty little things, Byron brushed past him, stealing the whole plate. He tore the first orange stick apart, followed by the rest in front of Eric’s stunned face. Soon they lay in a waste of chocolate and ripped dried fruit. Byron lifted the mess to his nose and smelled them in front of our shocked eyes—my pretend shocked eyes, Eric’s real ones. “Interesting,”
Byron said in some amazement. “They’re clean. Too bad. I love those things.”

  Was he crazy? I made a face. By now Eric was trying to hide his laughter. For once I wasn’t the one who looked stupid. “What? You don’t think she poisoned them, do you?” he asked.

  I straightened. “I told you, Byron, we were visiting under a flag of truce.”

  Byron seemed amused by the statement. “I seem to remember during the last flag of truce that Rock ate a whole batch of brownies made with Methylene blue and the twins got their fill of Oreos filled with tasty toothpaste filling. Something like that is hard to forget.”

  Eric looked fascinated. His friend Rock was completely forgotten (a typical guy thing). The drums had stopped and the shower was on. I took a steadying breath. “Are you still missing your iPhone, Byron?”

  “A few other things too.”

  “Your physics book?” Again, he nodded, but slowly. “Well, how about you borrow mine…or maybe Thanh’s? Oh wait; you don’t know who Thanh is. Our TA. Remember? The one you’re dating? You are, right?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  By now, we had Eric’s undivided attention. This was better than a daytime drama. I tried to forget that. “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I’m just wondering how you called me…if I have your phone?”

  I got him there, but he covered up his guilt well. “When did I call you?”

  “About two minutes ago. Five!”

  “I didn’t call you,” he told me flatly. “But if you want me to, we can pretend I did. Now, give me the items we discussed and we’ll call ourselves even.”