Chapter 12

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Chapter 12

North's eyes widened as she watched her father hit Harry in the jaw, while he wiggled and slithered like jelly on the ground. His shaggy brown curls flew in all directions and his mesmerising blue face was bruised. It would be even bluer by tomorrow. 

"Thief! Stupid Blue Face. How dare you snoop around in my daughter's room?! Who said you could sing 50 Cent, standing in my house, wearing your damn kimono?" Kanye yelled. 

Harry shook his curls and wiggled his big, fat butt some more in response. 

"Daddy! What are you doing? He's my friend!" North finally jumped in.

"Blue Face is your friend? Does he have blue fever or what?"

If it weren't for the circumstances, North would have smiled and snorted. She loved her father's sense of humour. She also liked the fact that he came across as intellectually capable.

"Daddy! Please stop. Let us go inside. Look at all the paparazzi. This is bad publicity." North whispered. 

"Honey, bad publicity is the best kind of publicity. Haven't I taught you anything?" Grandma Kris smiled stepped out of the house, turned to pose for the cameras while still in her Spongebob pyjamas.

Perez would be all over it, she thought, and smirked. Time to set #SpongebobKardashian in motion.

If North thought that the confines of her home would be comforting, she had been mistaken.

As she stepped inside, she spotted sitting on a couch, Aunt Kylie whining:

"It's been twenty years, why won't people stop making the lip tutorials?" 

Aunt Kourtney sat with a knife in her hands, muttering to herself, "Scott Disick, I will find you and I will kill you." 

North rolled her eyes and turned to Kanye and Harry. 

"What happened Daddy? Why did you beat him up?" She cried. 

"I went into yo room to talk to ya, dawg. I see Blue Face snoopin' around. I bet he stole somethin'." 

"Harry. His name is Harry. And he didn't steal anything, he must be looking for our project, I'm sure." North said. 

"Y-yes sir." Harry nodded. 

"I saw Blue Face Harry lookin' at yo letters." Kanye spoke.

North's mouth fell open as green fumes of bad breath came out. Nobody, save for her father and her, knew about them. 

"Letters to Juliet?" She wispered to her father.

"Letters to damn Juliet." 

Juliet was North's imaginary best friend and agony aunt. She confided in her, and wrote to her each night. 

She had written an embarrassing number of pages about Harry.

"Outrageous." She muttered.

(She had picked up the ten letter word from just yesterday.)

This was not good. At all.

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