Camping Delinquency

- 1 -

It is said that the best ideas come to a person with they using the can. At least that's what Vicky thought, because all her great ideas always made themselves known to her whenever she was using the can.

Something her half sister, Meghan found incredibly disgusting and disturbing. Although Vicky's ideas surprisingly came from the can, they weren't as shitty as one would assume.

But they were questionable and right now, Meg was questioning how Vicky had managed to convince her that this was a good idea.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Meghan asked for the millionth time as they snuck through the janitor's storeroom.

Meghan was really starting to regret this plan. When Vicky came up to her and told her about the genius idea of getting back at their trusted home class teacher for failing them on the maths test.

She was elated.

Funny enough, Vicky give no specifics about their new conquest. All she did was pull Meghan into the janitors locker, which Vicky had masterful picked with a stolen hair pin.

As soon as they were inside, Meghan regretted being here.

"Of course!" Vicky chipped a bit too loudly for someone who was trying to Jane Bond. The female vision of James Bond.

"When do I ever not have good ideas?" Vicky asked still crawling on her hands and knees.

'Like never.' Meghan thought and scoffed as she crawled behind Vicky's ass.

"I don't know how I feel about your ass in my face." Meg said coming to a stop.

"You love this ass." Vicky wriggled her butt at Meghan, whose face morphed into disgust.

"I still don't get why we have to crawl." Meg muffled.

"This is how spies do this shit." Vicky said confidently. Clearly she had been watching too much Quantico.

"Well we aren't super agents or spies, plus there isn't anyone here." Meg huffed.

"You can never be too safe."

"You are an idiot."

"Thank you and the fire detector control box is just head." Vicky said, skillfully crawling her way to the big box.

"Wait. Why are you opening the fire detector control?"

"Meg. Meg. Tsk. Tsk. I and by I, I mean we, are going to break the fire detector to room 198."

Meghan's eyes widen in realization. "You are not going to-"

"Give Mr Goodwill a shower he hasn't had in years?" Vicky asked with an insanely large grin on her face.

"Yes. Yes, I am." Vicky finished with a maniacal laugh.

Most would describe Vicky in a lot of words. Psycho. Manic. Crazed. Unhinged and manically passionate about freedom of art expression whatever that meant.

And they all had one thing in common, which was mentally unstable. At least that's what her mother said.

You need help, she said. Vicky laughed at that. She didn't need help, all she needed was freedom of fucking doing me.

And doing her, didn't include having to take maths forcefully against her will, because she was going to became the next Leonard Da Vinci and paint the , a male vision of monnalisa.

Something her mother couldn't quite understand. When Vicky said she wanted to be a 'Art activist'.

A person who paints to be seen, heard and felt though her artistic interpretation of the world around her. Inspiring freedom of speech and expression.

Her mother had simply backed out the room and was never seen again.

Until later that night that is.

Meg loved her mother, but sometimes she didn't get her. Her step mother, Hope had always been a carefree hippie, who according to Vicky, smoked weed from time to time.

But that was according to Vicky, and Vicky wasn't exactly a reliable source of information.

Although it had yet to be proven, Vicky was sure, her mothers charismatic character along with that of her stepfather, Meg's dad was somehow influenced by those weird hippie conventions they often attended.

"What about the rest of the class?" Meg asked with wide eyes.

"Every war has casualties." Vicky replied calmly before climbing over the table.

Meg sighed.

"Are you sure, no one noticed we were gone." Meg asked again.

"Yeah. I told Chris to cover for us. We apparently got stomach bugs from mom's Thai swiss chicken fried rice" Vicky snicked at the names her mom give the insane dishes she invented.

Meg Shivered at the thought of that horrific rice, their mom had forced down their sad throats with emotional blackmail.

"I learned this off the food network, although I had to improvise some of the ingredients" Hope said.

Exact what she had made looked nothing like the food in the picture, somehow Meg had a feeling it would crawl off the plate and cause havoc in the streets.

Meg shook her head clear of the thought, right now wasn't exactly the time to be thinking about the horrific food they had to endure at home.

"You thinking about mom's cooking aren't you." Vicky look looked back at a seemingly frozen Meghan.

"How can I not. The horror." Meg said dramatically. "How we are still alive is beyond me."

"Tell me about it." Vicky replied looking back at the task at hand.

Vicky then turned all her attention to the box in front o

"And room 198." Vicky said looking at the button to enable the sprinklers to go off.

Vicky pulled out her trusted gloves.

"Are the gloves really important?"

"Yes. A true hero never leaves his fingerprints at the scene of the crime." Vicky said in a matter of fact tone.

Meg rolled her eyes and watched Vicky push the button. She watched her sister turn around with the most self satisfied look that almost looked deranged.

"Lets get out of here. I wanna see my handy work."

Meg grumbled about how stupid Vicky was and walked to the door. "Whatever."

As the girls dusted themselves off and began walking around the corner, when principal George came into view.

"Look what the hell cat dragged in...again." Principal George spoke, folding his arms over his pot belly.

And next to him stood Chris. The same guy who was suppose to be covering for them, soaking wet.

"The Rollins. You just got busted.. Again."