Relying On Ben and Jerry (Waltham #1)

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Lookin' Like a Fool

What has the world come to if small child are not only technology savvy, but also possibly homicidal?

“Lena?” Alyssa asked, and I reluctantly looked at her. “The bathroom is down the hall.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, and she pushed out her bottom lip.

“You gots some in your hair,” she managed to tell me before she giggled, reaching one hand up to put over her mouth like I wouldn’t be able to notice that the little evil girl was grinning. I let out a heavy sigh and nodded reluctantly before shrugging away from the counter, looking at the non-boiling water before nodding again, figuring I had a couple of minutes before I was needed again. I plucked the sticky material of my shirt away from myself and glanced over at Alyssa, not sure if I could trust her alone but knowing firsthand that there is nothing more gross than having dried syrup in my hair.

“Okay,” I said, before I said it louder. “Okay, but I’ll be right back—don’t touch the pan or the stove, alright? In fact, don’t touch anything on this entire countertop. You hear me?”

She nodded obediently. I didn’t believe her innocence for a moment, but the feel of the syrup in my hair and dripping off of my eyelids was really starting to creep me out, so she won this battle. I stared her down before I backed out of the kitchen slowly, keeping my eyes on her where she was innocently sitting on the tile humming, playing with her doll. I shot her one more suspicious glance before I pushed the door open, checking to make sure that the other side wasn’t booby-trapped.

I looked up to find Alyssa staring.

“You never know,” I told her and skipped to where I could spot the bathroom, closing the door securely behind me.

I slumped against the counter, breathing out heavily.

That little girl was kind of like smoking—I could feel the years on the back of my life dissipating into smoke as my headache pounded around my skull. I looked at myself in the mirror and frowned.

My eyelashes were stuck together like clumped mascara from the syrup, and my hair was absolutely drenched with it. I winced when I reached out to touch my shirt and my shirt stretched to follow my hand, like it was dunked in super glue instead of some of the greatest pancake toppings of all time. I grimaced as I turned on the sink, looking at myself in the mirror.

“What did you get yourself into this time, Mallory?” I demanded to myself, sighing heavily. “This really isn’t worth getting on Quinton’s good side. I don’t think.”

With my luck, while I was washing my hair in here, the little girl would be in the kitchen rifling through drawers and thinking about how she could torture me with a cheese grater or something.

I froze with my hands under the water.

Aw, hell.

I quickly shut off the water and burst out of the room, mini panic bubbling up in my stomach like hysteria. I threw open the door to the kitchen, my eyes immediately going to where the pot was still sitting on the hot stove, slowly beginning to boil. I breathed out thankfully before glancing around. My eyes fell on the abandoned doll lying on the floor and I groaned.

“Oh boy,” I moaned before I looked to my left.

Alyssa looked up and smiled at me sweetly. Which would have been totally cool if it wasn’t for the fact that she was in the process of looking over the biggest butcher knife I had ever seen in my entire life.

I gulped. This was definitely not good.

“Alyssa!” I exclaimed. “I told you not to touch anything! Put that knife down right now!”