Prank Wars (19 page)

“What do you prefer? Learning it the hard way or hearing it from me?” I tried to stalk out of the living room, readjusting Byron’s backpack over my shoulder. Lizzie’s voice stopped me, “Dream killer.”

I turned on my heel. Lizzie was calling me out. “What did you call me?”

“What happened to your faith anyway?”

“Faith? In what?” I threw my arms out, pointing to the DVD. “Love, romance, whatever you want to call it…it isn’t like this. There’s nothing to have faith in!”

“Oh yeah?” Kali popped a couple of M&Ms in her mouth and plopped back into her nest of blankets. “My dad loves my mom very much.”

Things were so simple for Kali. And to give myself credit, which I did, I thought about what she said. “That’s the way
love
used to be,” I said, “for some people…maybe.”

Lizzie stood up, cleaning the popcorn kernels off the floor as she did so. “You think you’re too good for marriage. Is that it?”

“No,” I said it cautiously. It was a commandment, wasn’t it? Still, marriage was a pretty hard thing to imagine, especially since I couldn’t get along with any guy for one day. I had way too many flaws—so did they.

“Well then, if you don’t believe in love, then what’s stopping you from getting married now?” Lizzie asked in a logical voice. “Even better. You don’t even have to wait to love the man. Why don’t you just coldly pick out a good guy and marry him?” I froze at the thought. “You can’t tell me that there aren’t good guys out there…because there are. Go ahead, Mad, you’re a God-fearing girl, you know your duty. Go get married.”

“There’s no guy I want to marry,” I snapped.

“Why?”

I faltered before answering. Kali watched me expectantly. Even Tory looked curious. Lizzie was forcing my hand. “Okay, you’re right.” I should’ve remembered Lizzie was always right. “That’s why this whole thing is a tragedy.”

“That I’m right?”

“No.” I gave a self-deriding laugh. “I won’t marry a man that I don’t love. And since I’ll never find love, I’ll never get married.” Maybe that’s why I cared so much about this revolution. I’d lose everything if things didn’t change. Love. Dreams. Everything. Though to be honest, I think I had lost those anyway.

Lizzie took her bowl of popcorn into the kitchen. “Looks like you’re a bigger victim of chick flicks than we are.”

“Excuse me?” Byron’s backpack bounced against my shoulder. I followed her into the kitchen. Kali picked up her thick blankets and toddled after us. Tory rolled her eyes and leaned against the door. “Why?” I asked. “Just because I think a man won’t grab my
perfect
hand? Won’t swing me around? Won’t say I’ve always loved you? And if he did, he wouldn’t mean it a month later?” I stopped short, seeing the flowers on the table. Three delicate red roses. They were beautiful. “Whose flowers?”

Lizzie threw her bowl into the sink. “They’re from your most dedicated admirer.”

Byron?
My heart fluttered in suspicion. I sat on the counter, keeping my distance from the dying things. “What’s wrong with them?”

“And that’s your problem. You’re suspicious of anything good!” Lizzie was fed up with me. “You tell me, Miss Schadenfreude. What do you think love is then? And before you go off on mutual respect, tell me what you really think.”

“It’s something…” she had me stumped. I glanced furtively at the roses, expecting them to grow thorns…well, more thorns. Lizzie’s steady eyes were on me. Fine, I would tell her what I really thought. “It’s something that doesn’t exist anymore…not for me anyway.”

“So for you, love is so completely out of reach, something so big and so amazing that you think you’ll never find it because you’ve never seen it?” After a moment, I nodded. “You’re a worse romantic than Kali.” I gasped. Those were fighting words. Lizzie gathered up the dishes from the green carpet. She usually cleaned when she was mad, which was why it was such a temptation to get her angry. This time was an accident. “You’ll never be satisfied by a real man,” Lizzie accused.

Sandra sashayed out from the back rooms. Her boot cut jeans clung to her leather high heels. As usual she was talking on her iPhone to her latest fling. Lizzie pulled away from the sink. “Specimen one,” she said in a low voice. “
She
finds love every day. Explain that. Is it real or is it fake?”

“I don’t know.” I turned to her. “Sandra?”

Sandra held up one finger, silencing us. Her handkerchief sleeves fell back to her elbows. She was one of those people who demanded politeness to the point of rudeness. “I don’t know where you got the idea that we were hiring out for cleaning checks?” I heard her say in clipped tones over the phone.

I bit my lip, looking elsewhere. That’s when I noticed the mess in our kitchen. I hopped off the counter and closed the cupboard doors before Sandra noticed and went off on a tirade. Not a moment too soon, Sandra flipped off her cell and opened the recently closed cupboard door. “There’s an obnoxious smell in this kitchen!” she complained.

“Is it coming from the vents?” I asked. There was always a possibility of a dead skunk or old pickle juice stashed up there. I went to investigate.

Sandra shook her head, taking her peanut butter out of the cupboard. She studied the contents to make sure it was just as full as before. “Who’s been eating my food?” I tried not to look at Kali. Most likely she would be the culprit, but no way would she fess up to it. I stared into the vents instead. Thankfully, there was nothing there. “Quit eating my food or I’ll put laxatives in it!” Sandra threatened. I hoped Kali knew she was serious.

“Sandra?” I asked her again.

She got a text. “Just a sec.” I was jealous of her dexterity. She texted with one hand while slathering peanut butter over a piece of bread. With a no-nonsense air, she sketched another notch on the peanut butter jar with a Sharpie to mark the new level. No one would eat her food without getting caught. Next time, she’d probably take fingerprints.

“See,” Lizzie whispered. Even
she
can find love.”

“Real love?” I asked.

“You
are
a romantic.”

I winced and made sure I didn’t look in the direction of the flowers. Lizzie was out to prove something. Sandra quit texting and turned exasperated eyes on me. “What?”

Just then Kali slid her iPod into the speakers on the counter and began singing off-key to it, not just off-key, but as loud as her voice could warble out the misshapen tune. I tried to shout over the sound. “Yes, um, Sandra? What’s your definition of love?” It was a dumb question, and I felt even dumber asking it.

Sandra choked on her sandwich. “You’re asking me? Figure it out yourself.” She meant to walk out on us, but then hesitated, her face trying to take on a pleasant expression. I could tell it was a difficult process. “Does this have to do with my offer to help you with your love lives?”

“No!” I tried not to reveal my horror at the suggestion. I just needed to show Lizzie how someone else’s definition of love was more skewed than my own. “I want to know if love is…” I made something up, “…actually worth the pain.”

Sandra glanced speculatively at the roses on the table. She wouldn’t if she knew who they were from. “It’s always fun when you
think
you’re in love.” Instead of being pleasantly surprised, I was immediately suspicious of her honest answer. Sandra tapped her long fingernails against the counter. “Even if you don’t love the guy, it’s better than being home with you…” she uncharacteristically cut the insult off, “with ur, my homework.” There was a loud
thunk
above us. It sounded like someone was on the roof. “What’s that?” Sandra asked apprehensively.

“Mike’s here,” Lizzie said in an undertone. “He’s fixing the ceiling fan.” A cold shiver escaped me. Our landlord was the kindest guy in the world, and he loved to talk about everything. If he caught any of us alone, we could get caught with his blabbing mouth for hours. And I’m not joking. It was the worst psychological torture imaginable.

Kali’s singing abruptly cut off. “Did Mike say anything about—?”

“Shhh,” I held my finger superstitiously to my lips. “Don’t say his name too loud. He’ll hear you.”

Kali lowered her voice. “Did
he
say anything else about...
that girl
?” She hugged her blanket closer to her. She’d be sucking her thumb next.

“Thanh’s not a ghost,” I told her. “I found out who she is.” Tory cast me a betrayed look. “Sorry, I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“How did you figure out who she was?” Sandra turned to me, seeming unusually interested. I wondered if she was as caught up in the mystery as the rest of us were. It was shockingly human of her.

“She’s the TA in my physics class.”

“No,” they all said at once.

Immediately I was the star with the most information. “She’s a grad student. That’s why we don’t ever see her. She’s probably working on some groundbreaking paper or something. We practically live by a famous person…someday.” Now I was making it bigger than it was, but nobody cared. Lizzie busily gathered ingredients to make spaghetti. She was not one to be distracted by gossip. “And Byron dated her,” I said.

“What?” Even Lizzie was caught by that.

For some reason Sandra hadn’t stalked away from us yet. “You didn’t tell her we were in her apartment, did you?”

I laughed. Sandra must think I was an idiot. “Of course, I just told her we went through her things and tried on all her clothes. No big deal.”

Sandra stiffened then blew out her anger. I watched in dreadful fascination. She was controlling her anger. It was so unlike her. “Uh, sorry, didn’t mean to imply that you’re stupid.”

I was taken aback. Even Lizzie seemed startled at the complete personality overhaul. Was Sandra going through anger management classes or something? Momentarily distracted, Lizzie opened the cupboard door below the counter without taking the usual precautions. Pans and bowls flew out, clattering loudly all over the floor. Kali screamed, trying to preserve her vulnerable toes.

“Booby-trapped again.” I would’ve suspected Tory did it to scare us, except Kali lived with us too and she never put anything away right. We listened to the answering thumps against our floor. The girls downstairs thought we were being too loud and were taking their broomstick to their ceiling again. Kali stomped back, her bare feet making a strange noise against the kitchen floor. It was a sophisticated system of communication. The roses shook dangerously on the table and I steadied them, knowing they’d stink up the place if they crashed to the ground. As soon as the roses were safe, I dragged Byron’s backpack to the computer and set it down on the yellowed linoleum.

Too late, I heard Lizzie gasp behind me. “That isn’t your backpack.”

I hunched over guiltily and glanced at Sandra. Her iPhone was plastered to her ear again. I wasn’t supposed to be messing with her ex- boyfriend so much, and I really tried not to, but…he was provoking me. I hated myself for it. “Lizzie, I don’t know what you’re talking about?” I turned on the computer. “I can’t get a new backpack without you freaking out?”

“Not if it already belongs to someone else.”

“Don’t worry.” Tory flopped down on the hard wooden chair next to me. “They’ll think it was AmyLee who stole it. We’ve got it covered.”

Lizzie looked appropriately shocked and I flung Tory an annoyed look. “We did AmyLee a favor,” I hurriedly explained. “If the guys meet our demands, they’ll take her out…on a date, I mean. That’s what she wants.”

“You don’t take school stuff,” Lizzie reminded me.
I knew that, but Byron broke the rules first.

Sandra swept the kitchen perimeter, still attached to her phone. “What? It’s Friday night! You can’t just...he’s—” She sighed heavily. “How do you expect me to do that?”

“Oh no,” I whispered with a meaningful glance at Sandra. “Someone’s gonna be home on a Friday night. The horror.” Lizzie gave me a warning look.

My computer took a moment to reboot.
“Hello, Mad Dog,”
a little voice chirped inside it.
“Welcome to your computer. What can I do for you today?”

I almost fell out of my chair. “Who got into my computer?” Nobody knew and I swiveled to look at Tory. She was always
trying to hone my skills, but she just looked blank. It could’ve been anyone really. I took a deep breath, continuing my debate with Lizzie. “Lord Byron crosses the line too. “

Lizzie’s face hardened. “He made me late for class.”

“He also sent an engagement announcement to my mom. He infiltrated my personal territory.”

“Who are you getting married to?” she asked.

“That isn’t the point!” Though now I was curious. I logged into my computer and saw the screensaver. Cameron’s face floated across the screen along with mine in a cute little collage of typical cheesy engaged couple poses. They made me get married to Cameron? Lizzie caught her breath. These were my old engagement pictures. My mom got
these
in the mail? “What is wrong with him?” I cried, no longer bothering to keep my voice down. “You do
not
mess with people’s moms.” You did not mess with people’s exes either. Sandra glanced blandly over at me, and I tried to keep myself in control, so she wouldn’t overhear this. I was too frustrated to think clearly. “Oh,” I hissed under my breath, “
Byron
just asked for it…a million times over.”