Prank Wars (6 page)

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but she followed us out anyway. Kali tripped over a forgotten plate of old mashed potatoes left on our porch, which was where all of the guys’ rotten food usually ended up. She gasped, but this time in pure hatred. “Ooh, gross,” she squealed, kicking the potatoes off her Sketchers. “I just bought these!”

Too late, I understood the note.
What did we have in common with mashed potatoes from Thanksgiving?
Indeed. It was gooey and moldy and had to be months old, but nothing could deter us from this rescue operation. We ran downstairs to force open Tory’s front door—except she didn’t have a door anymore. We stepped back in shock when we saw the wall of cinder blocks covering it.

“Clear it out!” Tory shouted behind the wall.

I grimaced when I saw the flash from behind. Kali was our little blonde paparazza. She snapped another picture. I’m sure I looked great with my ratty hair. Besides the loss of her Sketchers, Kali never took anything seriously. “I look like Medusa,” I warned. “Take another picture and I’ll break your camera with my face.”

She giggled and another flash burst from her camera.

“Hurry up!” Tory shouted out from the other side of the cinder block wall. No doubt she was eager to get revenge on whoever did this. At least she still had some fighting spirit left. It was more than I had. After the obligatory pictures, we went to work, hauling away the cinder blocks.

Correction, some of us got to work. Lizzie just leaned against the blocks, giving me one of those fed-up looks again. She tied all of her braids into one long side braid. “When is this going to stop?” she asked.

I heaved a cinder block to the ground and tirelessly tugged at another. “Why don’t you ask the guys?”

“You’re going to leave it up to them?” she asked. I worked even faster, hoping to avoid the now familiar conversation. “You know you could be the bigger person and end this first,” she suggested.

“And let them win? Please.”

“Are you even getting any homework done?”

I froze her with a look. Well, I tried to freeze her with a look. She just lifted a brow at me. “I don’t sleep very much,” I admitted, “and I don’t need that much sleep, so…”

“They’re winning.”

I grimaced, desperate to free Tory from her apartment so that I could get someone with some fighting spirit on my side. Already I could see Tory’s agitated red hair bobbing over the cinder block wall; it was in a looped bun on top of her head like ’Cindy Lu Who’ from the
Grinch
. After taking down another cinder block, I saw her narrowed hazel eyes through the cracks. It startled me and I fell back. Kali slammed a cinder block on her own fingers and screeched out in agony.

“Hurry up!” Tory ordered behind the wall. “Just wait until I get my hands on them. Ooh!”

Kali sucked on her fingers. Lizzie let out another sigh. “They’re long gone now,” Lizzie said. “You’ll never catch them.”

“Then why don’t you help us? You’re the only one, who...” With my eyes on Kali, I lowered my voice. “Lizzie, you’re more capable than any of my…ur…” Lizzie’s steady eyes were on me, so I modified my speech from soldier talk to girl talk. “I can’t do this alone. If you want this to be over then help me. I mean, really really help me.”

She tugged on her thick hair, and I knew that meant she was thinking. “Only if you promise to end this, and I mean
really really
end this.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” She smiled sarcastically back at me, and I stopped hauling cinder blocks much to Tory’s dismay. “You actually think I enjoy this?”

“Well, you know you’re flirting, right?”

My mouth fell open. She said that to annoy me, didn’t she? “Take that back,” I said. “This whole thing…is not…don’t get the wrong idea. I’m
no
flirt.”

She smiled even wider, only now I wasn’t sure if she was teasing me. “It’s okay to flirt—especially if you mean something by it.”

How could she? My dearest, wisest friend, accuse me of actually liking someone like Byron? I saw how players like Lord Byron went through women, a different one every weekend all in the name of “hanging out.” And those same women pretended not to care, even though they really did. And the guys were getting away with it. Well, I wouldn’t let them—not anymore. Not that I was making much of a difference right now. It just felt better than doing nothing. “Look.” My hands landed over another cinder block. “If I want to flirt, I’ll flirt…as soon as I find a man worthy of it, but this, sweet Lizzie,” I set the cinder block down heavily, “does not fall under the same category as flirting.”

She nodded with mock grimness. “Yes, things couldn’t be more serious.”

“I’ll give you a lesson on flirting in more peaceful times, but for now—”

“We stop the bad guys, right?” Again, I detected Lizzie’s sarcasm, but I decided to ignore it as long as it came with her cooperation.

We were down to the last half of the cinder block wall when Tory scrambled up and over the side like a bat from all that was unholy—well, she sported a Batgirl shirt anyway. “What are you waiting for?” she shrieked. The rest of the cinder blocks toppled under her running legs. Her face was red with fury and she flew down the stairs, taking two at a time. By the looks of things, she looked mad enough to fill the guys’ bathtub with an entire school of goldfish—maybe their sinks too.

Kali giggled and scampered happily after her. I jerked my thumb after Kali. “Now,
that
girl is flirting.” Already Tory and Kali had reached the lawn below and were sprinting as fast as their short legs could carry them to the guys’ apartments. I had no idea what they were planning on doing once they got there. “Now Tory, if you notice the stiff set to her shoulders, is
not
flirting. She’s in it for the blood. She’s also classified as clinically insane, so...”

Lizzie cracked up at that. “And you?” she asked. “Why are you doing this?”

I noticed the trail of mashed potatoes that Kali had left on the stairs. “I’m in it for the food.” I leaned over the balcony, cupping my hands over my mouth like a megaphone. “Hey girls, wait! A little strategy is in order here, don’t you think? Girls? Hey!”

But Tory wouldn’t listen. She had turned into a little dot in the distance. Kali was a bigger dot in the distance, seeing as she couldn’t quite keep up with Tory’s fury. Kali’s pajama bottoms were a burnt orange blur. She was laughing something. I could hear her high-pitched voice from here. They were both goners.

I sighed. Lizzie and I took the stairs at a more sedate pace. Lizzie was right. The tide this war was taking a ridiculous turn. There had to be a better way to get our message across. “We need a new strategy,” I said.

Lizzie thought for a moment. “Do you know anyone with a fog machine?”

“Redundant,” I said. The guys put one outside our window to make us think our food was burning. It worked, but on the wrong person. Sandra freaked out. I still couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t moved yet, and to an apartment that cost twice as much as ours. At least then she’d be happy.

“Well, maybe if we used the fog machine to stage a ghost?”

I laughed outright. The boys weren’t
that
stupid. “What we need, Lizzie, is something of theirs they can’t bear to live without, something we can bargain with.”

“What? Like their hearts?”

I laughed. “No, like a Care bear. Maybe that Tenderheart bear they have as their apartment mascot. And then we’ll take pictures with it all over campus…”

But Lizzie wasn’t listening. She had stopped on the last stair that led up to our apartment at the top of the complex. I almost bowled her over as two guys walked out of our front door. They were strangers. The one closest to me dressed in a red button-down shirt and retro jeans like he was ready for a night out in the town. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. They had been in our apartment instead. I stepped in front of the guys, blocking their escape. “What do you think you’re doing?” I said in a dangerous voice.

I was standing too close to red shirt guy, so close that I could smell his cologne. Was it Hollister? My nose wrinkled. I couldn’t let him know that I liked how he smelled or that I thought he was actually attractive. I took a careful step back. He had blond choppy hair and he gave me a considering look with hazel, heavily hooded eyes. It just figured that Byron would send this guy. Any girl in her right mind would let this guy cause all sorts of mischief in her apartment, but I wasn’t any girl—or in my right mind. Besides the cologne, the blond smelled of bad boy smoothness mixed with boy-next-door charm—and yes, I’m aware I can’t really smell that. He gave me a disarming smile, his gaze trailing to my Lucille Ball pajama bottoms. “Hey.”

I crossed my arms. “Poor things. Are you lost? We can show you your way out.”

The other guy next to him chuckled, though his eyes darted uncomfortably around. This guy was oilier, and thankfully had less charisma. A lot less. And he was a giant. His Dune t-shirt was tucked into high-waisted pleated jeans were a little too short to meet his socks. He stared a little too hard at Lizzie and me, taking in our flushed faces. “Uh, we were just visiting,” he said in a voice that was much too quick.

“Sure, right.” Visiting? That didn’t happen. The oily guy watched me with a knowing look like I was flirting with him. Apparently everyone thought that. I turned to Lizzie, not bothering to keep my voice down. “They’re spies.”

The beautiful blond laughed appreciatively. “I’m sorry,” he said. “What’s your name again?” That was the last thing I wanted—for him to know I was Mad Dog, the target he was sent to terrorize.

“I didn’t say.” I kept my tone nice and formal. “Now tell me who sent you?”

He grinned, most likely to distract me. “Tell me your name and I’ll tell you who sent me.” He put his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans and leaned back to wait.

I bit my lip. “Madeleine. Now talk.”

He hesitated for a mere second. “Eric.”

“Yeah, right,” I muttered. He bit his lip to keep from laughing and opted to nod instead. He wasn’t going to break, so I turned to the oily one instead. “Hey Dune guy? Got a name?”

The guy with the Dune shirt looked a little ill at ease and glanced over at the blond, who just shrugged at him. He turned back to us and gave us a sick smile, which meant he was trying to be charming. “What will you give me if I tell you?”

The flirt thing wasn’t working for me. It never did. “Cut the chase. Do you work for Lord Byron or not?”

“Lord Byron?” The two tested the name out like they were trying to wrap their brains around it. They were either amazing actors…or…or...

“Mad Do—uh, Madeleine,” Lizzie corrected, trying to get my attention. “I think they might
not
be…uh…spies,” she finished in a whisper. They were clearly listening, and they looked amused in a hardened way. The one without a name even seemed a little dangerous. “I’ve never really seen them before,” she whispered.

“Which is exactly why Byron sent them,” I explained. “They’re probably from one of his classes.” At her doubting look, I decided to prove it. “Okay, Eric and
Dune guy
, what did you steal from our apartment, huh? Come clean. It’s easiest this way.”

Both of them burst out laughing. “Your apartment?” They pointed to our place. “You live there?” I nodded, waiting for the confession. Eric cleared his throat, trying to look solemn. “We didn’t do anything. We wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You sure about that?”

Eric lifted his hands in surrender. His leather watch band slid down his wrist and he took a step closer to me. “Would you like to search me?”

“Certainly not.” I stepped back and almost toppled down the stairs. Eric threw his arms around me and dragged me back up, saving me from certain death. My head landed into his muscular shoulder. Yep. Hollister.

He set me back on my feet, pushing me against the railing. “Careful there, tough stuff.”

I was sure my face was bright red. No guy had had his arms around me since Cameron. I avoided looking at Lizzie. “Thanks.” It killed me to say it. Eric nodded, holding my gaze. There was something in those hazel eyes, well, besides the flecks of gold that a girl could get lost in—um, whatever it was, it completely played with my head. “Look, you…Eric…whatever…you’re up to,” I managed to get out, “we’re not going to let you get away with it.”

“Like what?” the oily guy asked with a snicker. “A bomb?”

It was the kind of sick joke I’d expect from one of Lord Byron’s men. I straightened. “I don’t know, maybe like a fish left in the vents to rot?” Their eyebrows went up, and Eric grinned “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.” My threat lacked its usual oomph, probably because Eric still had my hands.

“I’m looking forward to it.” He squeezed them and let me go with a wink. Somehow the move worked for him. It made me want to run in a bad way. I rooted myself against the railing, trying not to imagine what Lizzie was thinking. My hands still held his warmth. Eric must’ve sensed I was nervous because he smiled reassuringly. “We’re legit. I work in the chemistry lab at the school. You should come up sometime and I’ll test your frequency waves or something.”

My what? What was that? Some sort of chemistry pick up line or the ultimate revenge for asking Byron out on a fake date? It was hilarious in a way, since despite the threat, I wanted to go. “You ask all the girls to come to your lab?”