Red-Heads On The Battle Front

17. You're Gonna Hear Me Roar

Warning - Swearing ahead, so if you're susceptible to that kind of thing, I suggest you don't read on.

ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ

"Gwen, you should really sleep" May said, worriedly. I suppose she was justified in a way – my Skype box showed my crazed face in real-time video. My eyes had bags under them, and were red and wide, bright with a demented light. My hair stuck up at angles and there were coffee stains around my mouth. I probably should wash off those. I snorted. "Pish Posh, I'm fine"

"No, you are not fine. You're going crazy. Sleep and do the pranking in the morning"
"The pranking cannot wait" I declared "I bid thee farewell and a good journey, my fair maiden, I shall speak to thee once again!" and before she could protest further I ended the call. I whirled around to face my bed, where my items of mass destruction lay before me, beckoning to me in urgent voices that sounded very much like my own. My watch beeped.

2:00 AM

It was time.

ᴥ ᴥ ᴥ

I heard, very distinctly, a roar.

Now, I had absolutely no clue what this roar was doing, echoing around me as I spread my hands, trying to keep balance as I flew. "Gwen! Come on! It's not far now" Peter said, holding out his hand. The roar evaporated from mind and I smiled and took it. Neverland was almost there – substantial, close and there.

Almost...almost...almost...

"WAKE UP YOU LITTLE RED-HAIRED SATAN SPAWN!" someone violently shook me awake.
"Nooo....Peter...." I moaned as the dream slipped from between my fingers and vanished. A snort sounded above me and then the shaking resumed. So did the roaring.
"WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"
"Nooo...no wake up...five more minutes?" I suggested, sleepily hopeful. The shaking ceased...and the pounding began.

Whack!
"Wake!"
Whack!"
"Up!"
Whack!

"No" I murmured and turned over. I wouldn't wake up. I wouldn't... "AAAARGH! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME, YOU FILTHY PEASANT! LET ME GO! SOMEONE HELP ME I'M BEING ASSAULTED!"

For Mr. Moron had just potato-sacked me from my bed and dropped me unceremoniously on the ground in an unruly heap. I scowled up at him as I rubbed my butt. "Who let you up here?" I hissed. He didn't answer, just remained looking livid. His ears were read and his chest was heaving. I'd never seen him this mad, except the time when I turned his hair pink-

Oh.

Slowly, realization hit me and a slow smirk eased itself onto my face. Oh I knew what this was about. But I shrugged and said, "What brings you here, you stupid oaf?" Mr. Moron didn't say anything, but his face was rapidly turning redder by the second. Okay, not a good idea. He reached down and yanked me up.

"What" he growled, his face way too close to mine for me to be comfortable "Did you do to my car?"
I laughed nervously. Oh, I'm going to die. But, I'm too young to die.
"Nothing?" I suggested. His face reddened further. Oh, lordie, I should really stop tempting fate.
"Do you call that nothing?" he spat, pushing me in front of a window.

What looked like a multicolor car sat in the Whitfields' driveway. It was red, blue, yellow...all the colors of the rainbow. The colors rippled as the wind ruffled the dozens of Post-It notes that comprised this colorful creation. The only thing that broke the lines of color, were the black of the word 'Ass' spelt out, in, you guessed it, Post-Its. Although it wasn't noticeable, I knew there were layers and layers of Saran Wrap underneath, covering the car from top to bottom. It was outrageously complicated to go over and over with the wrap, but it worked and it would take ages for him to cut through the whole thing..