Mischief

Chapter 2

Turns out that blowing up an abandoned warehouse that was being used as a makeshift drug lab and turning my back and walking away from the wreckage and explosion behind me, looking like The Rock from 'The Runaway' (or at least that's what I would like to think I looked like...) won't land me a life sentence in prison.

With my charm and deceiving good looks, I managed to coax the courtroom and judge into going easy on me... And also because my dad hired one of the best lawyers that you could get around here to keep my ass out of prison. By the end of my court case, the judge decided that sending me to St. Louis's Academy For Troubled Youth - or literal hell on earth as I like to call it - would be much more more effective than locking me up in a cell for a few years.

When I woke up after the explosion, I was in hospital. Supposedly the drug dog sniffed out my body in the forest, which would make quite a bit of sense considering that after being prodded by the nurses and having my vitals tested, when I had excused myself to 'go to the bathroom' it just so happened that the weed in my jeans pocket had magically disappeared.

I don't even want to evaluate on how much that hurt my feelings.

I mean, after the events that took place the night before and the fact that I had to shoot some cheesy pickup lines to seduce the police officer outside my hospital door in order for him to simply let me go to the bathroom, I deserved a break. The pickup lines didn't do much, much to the dismay and futile dreams of any future relationships, but he ended up letting me leave after I told him that I wouldn't be able to hold it in for much longer and that I would have to pee in a pot plant or something.

If it weren't for all the meds they put me on, I imagine it would have been quite painful to be conscious. I had a huge gash on my head that they had bandaged up and a concussion, not to mention the huge gaping gash that they had to sow back together on my ribs.

I had to stay there over night and after the doctors finally signed my clearance form, all hopes of freedom were crushed as the second I stepped out of the hospital, the police handcuffed me and took me to the police station.

All the while my father was nowhere to be seen.

I had stated exactly what happened ever since I left the house to multiple different officers and agents and then, finally, after hours of sitting in the interrogation room, they locked me in a holding cell, which was honestly the filthiest place I'd ever been in. There was one toilet in the corner, a cracked and yellowed sink that literally had a dead mouse in the drain, no toilet paper, and a thin, stained mattress laying idly on top of the fold-out, metal bed frame. No blanket. The entire cell reeked of vomit, urine and God knows what the other smell was.

And I was expected to fucking sleep in this shithole tonight, and for however many nights until my dad paid my bail... That is if he was going to pay it to begin with. We didn't exactly depart on the best of terms, so I am just hoping that he has gotten over our little spat and is going to be my white knight in shining armor and get me the fuck outta here!

I made bail after a good four hours of aimlessly sitting at the end of the mattress staring through the bars at a brick wall, scared that I was going to catch an STD from simply sitting on the damn thing.

We had to go and sign a whole bunch of paperwork and they gave us a bunch of loose papers and the whole thing was a huge mess - all because I had wandered into the wrong warehouse.

My lawyer was really, really good. Like, that man defended me as if it were actually him that blew up the warehouse! He made statements that I wouldn't have even thought about. I liked him.

And now, at the end of my trial, I was pondering my certain doom in getting sent off in a flaming carriage of death to that hole of a school.

I was given one day to pack my things and I would be given a police escort to the school.

Understandably, I was not looking forward to it.

The second I was out of the car, I bolted into the house and up the stairs to my room. There was no way in fucking hell that I was going to have a inevitably awkward conversation with my father where he explains how disappointed he is in me, how he expected much better, blah this and blah that.

I started packing my stuff immediately, taking into consideration I was being sent away for the whole year.

I pulled my biggest suitcase out of my walk in closet and grabbed a duffel bag. I quickly dashed into my dads room down the hall and stole the biggest suitcase that he had and retreat back into my room to begin packing.

I packed all of my clothes - there were quite a few - and all of my shoes, books, photos, makeup, skincare products and more. I basically packed everything in my room to put it simply, leaving out an outfit for the next day and my toiletries.

My room was dull with everything behind zippers.

I showered and fixed myself a toastie before trekking back up to my room and collapsing onto my bed.

Man, these past few days have been bloody hectic.

Before I knew it, I had drifted off to the land of sleep.

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