Sneak up on Me

Chapter 5

5

James's POV

It's cute how she doesn't think I saw her smile on her way out. It's weirder that I couldn't stop my own face from cracking a smile when I saw it. For some reason, it made me happy. Maybe it's because I finally got to her, or maybe it's because I don't really hate her as much as I think I do. She is actually really pretty when she smiles.

Oh my God! How can I even be considering this? Come on, James! Man up! She is a demon in hot girl form.

Realizing I am leaning back in the chair, my hands behind my head and a slightly creepy look on my face while staring at the ceiling, I shake my head in self-disappointment. I stand up, rolling my head and shaking my arms to loosen up. Jeez, I thought I was loosing it there for a minute. As if I, James Dashwood, could ever feel more than extreme hatred for London Lacevine. It's practically my job to annoy the hell out of her.  

Taking a look around the room, I decide it is too neat. Scanning the room for pranks waiting to happen, my eyes fall on her pristinely perfect plain blue bed sheet. Reaching into my jacket pocket with a smile on my face, I pull out a black sharpie marker. If you only ever need to know one thing about me, it's do not give me a blank space when I am in possession of a writing utensil. Me and a sharpie together are your worst nightmare. I tuck the edges of the sheet under the mattress to tighten the fabric and tap the end of the marker against my cheek. Meaningful message, or complete and utter nonsense? Going for the annoying approach, I uncap the marker and begin writing whatever comes into my head.

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Apparently, I think of very strange things. London's bed now reads: tacquito, Mary Poppins, salami, unicorn, gasmask, spaghetti and a hundred other random words. Mission complete.

Shutting the door carefully behind me, I wonder how she will get her revenge. Knowing her, it will probably be something brilliant, and completely mad. When we were 11 or 12, I thought it would be funny to put worms in her pasta. She then set 27 lizards loose in my room (I know because I had to catch them myself), drew a mustache on me in my sleep, cut my football up and fried it and tried to feed it to me for breakfast, and then proceeded to pour a can of pink paint on my head. Me, being the macho man I am, did not appreciate being bright pink for the next fortnight.

Laughing softly at the memories, I can feel the disapproving stares of the stiff and proper looking family portraits, and guiltily walk in silence all the way to the kitchen.

Greeted by the warm smell of the gooey perfection called cookies, I pull out a chair and plop down, looking around the welcoming room for Laura. Yes! No one here. I can sneak a cookie or two. Opening the oven door, I reach for the tray.

"Ouch!"

Bringing my hand to my mouth, the cookie tray clatters noisily to the floor as it falls from my grasp.

"Oh no!" Laura huffs breathlessly, having just run into the room. Standing with her hands on her hips, she glares at the ruined cookies that litter the floor. Seeing the dejected look on my face, the scowl slides off her face and she clicks her tongue impatiently.

"Let me see your hands." Turning them over in her plump hands, she finishes her inspection and pats my wrist, letting my hands fall down to rest at my sides.

"I think you'll live. What were you thinking, touching the hot tray like that?" She scolds, and I hang my head sadly.

"Oh, well. You are more like that Ash than I would have thought. By the way, your father needs to talk to you in his office. When you are done, I will have some new cookies ready for you."