Prank Wars (5 page)

“Yeah, I figure the more dates I go on, the faster I get married, right?”

He burst out laughing.
“Sure.”

I frowned. Byron laughed at my joke? How did he know it was a joke? I took a steadying breath. This was a more treacherous mission than I thought. I was always a sucker for a man with a sense of humor. I couldn’t let things get out of hand. “So, uh, how about it, hot stuff?”

He paused for a second and I readied for a fight.
“Okay,”
he said.

Okay? My forehead wrinkled. Did he just say okay? He’d go out with this monster I had just created of myself? What was wrong with him? No guy liked clingy girls. No guy liked high-maintenance girls. No guy liked girls who made
la la la la
noises behind him in class, especially a player like this. He couldn’t possibly be serious? I muted my cell. “He said, okay.”

“What?” Kali fell off my bed and slid to the ground in surprise. Her blonde hair splayed out behind her. I stared at her just as Tory pulled away from her pillow in stunned silence.

Lizzie poked her head through the door, clearly eavesdropping the whole time. “That’s because he’s
nice,
” she lectured me, “unlike some people.”

Nice? Could he actually be nice? No! This man was not nice, not without something to gain from it. He was the biggest noncommittal player I knew, and I couldn’t believe that he was getting the best of me. I’d force him show me his true colors. Tonight was the big intramural championship dodge ball game between us and the 104th ward. There was plenty of trash-talking and lots of tempers involved. There was no way he’d miss it. “How about tonight at 5:00?” I asked.

“
Oh sorry. Can’t. I’m playing a dodge ball game.”

I smiled. Now we were getting somewhere. “5:15?”

“
No…”

I didn’t even give him time to explain. “5:30? 5:45?”

He burst out laughing.
“No, I can’t.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” I simpered, expecting a set-down. “Are you sure?”

He was quiet for a moment. Every instinct told me not to trust his supposed defeat.
“Why don’t you come and be my cheerleader,”
he shot back. What? Shallow guys didn’t invite girls sight unseen to their precious games. What if I was ugly? He’d never chance it.
“Maybe we can do something
after
the game?”
he said.
“Yeah, we can take a walk through the trails on campus. Then we can get to know each other a little…better.”

My eyes widened. Was he really that big of a player or was he playing with me? Did he know what was going on? Or did he think I was someone else? “Uh…” I was thinking hard.

“
I know,”
he suggested.
“How about we do something right now?”

“Right now?” I tried to keep the panic from my voice and reminded myself that he couldn’t reach through the phone and steal me.

“
Yeah. Where are you?”

This was getting serious. “I…I am just…busy with…” I tried to think of the most disgusting thing possible to a noncommittal guy like him, “my marriage prep homework. Gotta get an A. Whoo!”

“
You wanna put your marriage prep to work right now, Suzy Q?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“
Why don’t you come over and we’ll study it together? Maybe a little chemistry too? You’re in my class, right? Yeah, I remember you. Dark hair, right?”

Yeah—no! This was not going the way I expected. He was supposed to freak out because a weird girl was calling to ask him out and then I would let him stew over it for the rest of the day until I called him and bragged how he fell for my April Fools’ joke. Why was he actually going for it? And how did he know I had dark hair?

Maybe there was an information leak? There was no way that my number was in his phone. Did we have spies in the ranks? I glanced over at our blonde little Kali. Her cell phone was nowhere in sight. Tory was stunned; her freckles looked a little more pronounced than usual. Lizzie’s hands were on her slender hips, a smirk on her dark face. But she was the last person who’d turn against me. How did Byron know? Did he recognize my voice? Impossible. I meant nothing to him. I gulped. “Sure, sure, fine. Sandra’s with me. She won’t mind tagging along. I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear about your sudden interest in chemistry.”

“
How about you just come by yourself?”
his voice sounded lazy and just a little dangerous.
“I think we need some alone time together.”

He was calling my bluff. Now I
knew
he wasn’t being nice. I smiled wickedly, getting back into the game. “It would be rude to leave my best friend behind.”

“
Then I’ll meet you. How about in five minutes?”

“You don’t have my address,” I stalled, trying to think of all the addresses of the most annoying girls I knew or maybe of an insane asylum. I gave up. “Or maybe you just don’t know what today is?”

“
Monday.”

“April Fool’s day.”

He was silent on the other end. It was just enough to make me sweat. “
Oh, so you mean you called me up so you could make me believe that a girl would actually be interested enough to ask me out just so you could tell me it was all some cruel joke?”

That sounded terrible. “No, not really. I…” explaining made it sound lame because all of a sudden when he repeated it back to me, it did sound lame, plus everyone was staring at me. I was supposed to look strong and somewhat clever.

“
How charming of you,”
he added.

I gave a weak laugh. I couldn’t let him turn this on me. “As if you have any problem with girls asking you out!”

Tory straightened nervously. I wasn’t supposed to compliment the enemy, even if it was backhanded. I felt my face go red for a lot of reasons. Maybe Byron would think this was funny and it would all be okay. I mean, we just wanted him to sweat, not…not—I don’t know—
to have feelings
. I forced my voice into more teasing tones. “Just admit I got you, Lord Byron.”

“
Only one person calls me Lord Byron, Suzy Q.”
Before I could hang up in sheer panic, the doorbell rang.
“Hey, let’s not fight,”
he said softly.
“In fact, I left a little present on your doorstep just for you…to celebrate the holiday, of course.”
My heart made a skydive out of my chest. “Hope you like it, cuz.”

Cuz? Was that short for cousin or something?

He hung up, leaving me in stunned silence. I turned to the other girls and we listened to Sandra’s heels catch on the carpet on her way to the door. Nothing would stop her from finding this latest humiliation. The front door creaked open. It was followed by a shrill shriek. I thought I had executed the plan flawlessly, but apparently Lord Byron had been onto me almost from the beginning, but when? He had set a perfect diversion by acting the part of the nice guy. That was usually when guys got the best of me.

Sandra stormed into our room, her long fingernails digging into a bunch of crumpled flowers. “Why would someone pick my tulips, huh? I just bought these!” She flung them at me. “I can only assume it has to do with your stupid pranks, Madeleine!”

I picked them off the floor. “I’m sure it doesn’t.” I said it out of habit.

“There’s a note.” Lizzie pointed out.

Sandra flung the note at me and she slammed my bedroom door shut behind her. I turned the note over. It was written on the back of some chemistry notes from yesterday’s class. Underneath, Lord Byron had colored in a dark black spot like we were pirates in
Treasure Island
. He had declared war. He had officially declared war! I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that kind of commitment until I read the note:
“In your dreams, Mad Dog.”

Kali was the first to find her voice. “Mad Dog?” She glanced over at me. I could almost see the rusty batteries working in her brain. “Madeleine Doggett! That’s you!” She giggled. “He’s so very clever, isn’t he?” I cringed at the compliment. “Mad Dog. I’m going to call you Mad Dog from now on! It’s perfect.”

Tory murmured an excuse and left for her own apartment downstairs. Her red hair shot behind her like a flame. She disliked losing a battle as much as I did.

Lizzie sighed. “I hope you’re not planning some sort of counterattack, Mad Dog.” It disturbed me how easily my new nickname rolled off her tongue.

“Are you kidding?” I crumpled the paper in my hand. “Lord Byron is no match for me. He won’t last a day.”

Day 103

2232 hours

“
The night was crisp, deceptively peaceful. My squadron sat on the green shag carpet in their wary positions next to an open window. We listened to the rain tapping softly into the cold ground as we waited for a counterattack from Lord Byron’s men. These scribbles might be my last. But I must tell my story though pen cannot describe the horrors of this last semester.”

—Madeleine’s War Journal Entry (Saturday, May 26th).

I was supposed to be a regular college student, you know, the kind who eats peanut-butter sandwiches and Ramen noodles, and occasionally goes on a date? Now I cared for one thing only: survival. Okay, maybe just keeping my cool, but still this war was bigger than me now. Had it only been two months since that ill-fated prank call to Byron? Red dye frosted our fingers from pranks gone bad. We never got out of our parking spaces because the guys purposely blocked us in. Anything remotely valuable had gone missing, but nothing could stop me now.

If I could keep Byron busy with meaningless pranks, it meant fewer broken hearts. The only problem was that Byron was a master at delegating. He never had to lift a finger, just coldly executed orders to his men, leaving him freer than we were now. Even worse, I was buried in homework. As much as I hated to admit it, Byron managed to turn every male in the 73rd ward against me. Well, I might’ve done some of that to myself since I gave dating advice to most of their ex-girlfriends, but still Byron was the mastermind.

A knock sounded on the frontlines, and I stared at our front door with eyes that had seen too much: lobsters in the bathtub, garlic powder in our toothpaste, cow eyeballs served on plates. And now I was caught in my Lucille Ball pajama bottoms. I put down my physics homework and took a steadying breath. “Would somebody open that?”

Lizzie lounged on our ugly green-striped couches. She glanced up from her homework. Her hair brushed against the pages of her Shakespeare book. I coveted her hair in a bad way. It was long and wavy and twisted into a million braids. She looked bored. “Are you sure you want to do that, Mad Dog?”

I grimaced at the nickname. “What? It could be a visitor. Are we just going to let
her
stand outside in the cold? Fine. If that’s what you want. You’re the Relief Society President. You know best.”

Lizzie stared at me. Was it possible for her to make someone wait? Crickets chirped inside the house. They were left over from the great cricket sting last week. With a fed-up sigh, Lizzie pushed off the couch. “And who broke your legs?” She trudged to the front door in her bright blue pajamas.

“The peephole doesn’t work,” I warned her. She gave me a weird look, and I shrugged. “The guys put it in backwards. They can look through it from the outside and see us, so we—”

Lizzie gave a fed up sigh and jerked the door open. An ugly yellow stuffed animal sat on our porch. I peered closer. It was an ugly duckling, in fact, the
ugliest
duckling I had ever seen. No, it wasn’t some sad commentary on us. None of Byron’s pranks were that clever. Lizzie didn’t look surprised. “Huh? We’ve been hit again.”

“What do we do, Captain?” Kali ran out from the back wearing a shirt with a peace sign. Her blonde hair was in pigtails. I gave her an exasperated look. She had picked up the
captain
thing from Tory.

I pushed off paper debris from my lap and rushed to the porch. The enemy was nowhere in sight, but they were definitely out there. I gave the ugliest duckling a wide berth. Who knew where they got it. Possibly D.I. I’m sure it was covered in fleas—just another way to get back at us.

Lizzie fumbled with one of her white canvas flats and put it on, limping forward, a war vet with her share of battle wounds. Her left shoes had all been stolen by Lord Byron’s spies just yesterday. “There’s a message with that stuffed
thing.
” She threw it in my hands.

“
What do you and leftover mashed potatoes from Thanksgiving have in common?
” I read. “
The same thing you have in common with a deer playing on the highway.
” That didn’t even make sense, which made the enemy’s coup even more triumphant. I raked my hands through my black hair. It had a streak of premature white in it—compliments of Lord Byron…and possibly genetic, but whatever. The phone rang and we jumped. I fumbled with it. “Yes?”

“We have an emergency in the third infantry division, requesting immediate backup. We’re stuck in our apartment.” I recognized Tory’s gruff voice. She sounded frantic. “Get us out!”

“We’ve got a code red downstairs,” I told Kali. “Move.”