Red-Heads On The Battle Front

6. Bloody Hell

I would love to say that I had been cool and unruffled in the face of this possibly life-threatening and highly dangerous situation, but that would, unfortunately, be a lie.

In other words, I panicked.

The footsteps were only minutes away from reaching this room but I spent two of those precious minutes panicking and internally screaming and imploding like I was a dying star and not a to-be-dead human. Because dead was what I was going to be when he found me here.

I stumbled into his room and looked desperately for a place to hide. Where did all my meticulous planning go? Probably out the window like I was supposed to. I looked around and caught sight of a towering pile of dirty laundry. Ugh. I was going to regret this.

The door slammed open and I caught the word 'Weasley' and a lot of muttering about being immature. My heart thudded in my chest. If this worked and I escaped from this place unscathed, I would be eternally grateful to the prank gods. I would also eternally lose any sense of smell I possessed previous to this encounter because my hiding place really stank, and I mean that with all the literal sense the world possesses.

I could hear his stamping and grumbling and then something thudded above me. My heart skipped a beat. Then the Devon-smell I encountered in the bathroom and the horrible stench of sweat flooded my nostrils. More dirty clothes?! He'd barely been here a week! Ugh. The bathroom door closed and the sound of running water met my ears. I waited a few seconds before jumping up, freeing myself from my smelly prison. I mean hiding place. I gratefully gulped the fresh air, reveling in my freedom for a few seconds before realizing that I wasn't free. Not yet.

I grabbed my duffel and yanked it open, my fingers searching for the rough texture of rope until I finally found it. I yanked the whole thing out and unwrapped it, glad that I'd listened to May and done this instead of simply stuffing it inside like I usually would and tangling it. I hooked the ends to the edge of the window and checked if the knot, which would loosen the whole structure from the window if I tugged it, was in place. Satisfied that I wouldn't fall to my death, I closed the bag and swung one leg over the window sill. Then, he screamed.

My head snapped back so fast, I pulled my neck. Wincing I put my fingers up to rub the spot when the bathroom door opened. Dressed in nothing but a towel and dripping soap suds in his wake, stood Mr. Moron. Fuchsia-pink hair, fake-suntanned skin and all. He screamed like a wounded rhino and whipped his wet, frosted pink head around before catching me silhouetted against his window. For a few seconds we looked at each other.

"Nice hair"

And then I climbed down as fast as I could.

ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ

"You should've seen his face!" I wheezed and May laughed evilly along with me. The moment I got home I locked all my doors and windows and then proceeded to skype May, giving her the rich, luscious details. "Wait, can you hear that?" I giggled. May shook her head and listened. There was some frantic shouting and a lot of 'No's from what I could hear. And it was coming from outside my window. Gesturing at her to be quiet, I opened my shutter just a tiny bit to see Mr. Moron pacing across his window, directly across from mine, an angry expression on his face. I jumped back as he swore, and then realized he was on the phone. I tip-toed back to my computer where May's brown eyes were wide with mirth and held up a finger to silence her before carefully lifting my laptop and bringing it to the window.

"No, Cynthia, you cannot come over. Why? I have an emergency is why!" there was a pause as he listened to what was most probably Cynthia's sopping simpering "No you can't come over and help, it's not that kind of situation!"
"Gwen!" I looked down at my laptop which held, er,May
"Yeah?"
"Can you open the curtains a bit? I want to see him!" I grinned and pulled open the shutter till where my laptop's camera was. May's eyes widened and she looked at him critically.
"He's cute" was the first thing she said and I threw my hands up.
"Whaaat...he is" she said, a little defensively
"Mayella Parks"
"Gwenwyn Lou-Ann Taylor" she said, mimicking my tone. We sniggered and then went back to looking at Mr. Moron. He was making rude gestures at his phone and then rolled his eyes
"Mhm...yeah...yeah...yea-" His last 'yeah' was cut off as he turned and looked outside his window. With a jolt I realized he had a perfect view of May and I
"Gwen..." May said nervously as he growled a 'Bye' into the phone and shoved it in the pocket of his sweatpants. I pulled the laptop behind me, hiding May out of view as I waved. "Gwen...I don't think that's a good idea" she whimpered from the screen. Angry red splotches were appearing on Mr. Moron's face as he looked at me. Maybe she was right...although...
"The color of your face clashes with your hair dear, and you've done such a good job on it...we don't want to ruin it do w-"
"SHUT" he chucked a lava lamp at me. I ducked and it crashed into the wall instead of my face "UP!" he finished, flinging a pair of smelly boxers in my face. This time it hit its target.