Deep Water

-one-

High school sucks. High school sucks and life is boring. I think to myself as I walk into my empty house. This is the only quiet part of my day. I spent an overwhelming seven and a half hours at school, bask in the four glorious hours of quietness, then listen to my mother argue herself into delirium. That's what she gets for running a multi-million dollar company with Japanese businessmen. They drive a hard bargain and are really bad at understanding English. But I digress; where was I? Oh, yes!

BOOORRRED!!!

Every day was like clockwork. Sometimes I do something dangerous just for the heck of it. Like last week, I waited until midnight, pick the deadbolt on my neighbor's backdoor, and glued googly eyes on everything. I didn't even get caught. Nothing stirred throughout the house. Now that mission one was a success, I'm planning something more dangerous: sneak into Mr. Cresil's old mansion and replace all his cat food with dog food. That nasty man has it coming though. Once in third grade, I passed by his house a little too closely and he came out with a freaking machete, screaming about how I'll get what's coming to me. The look on his face when he realizes what I did will be worth the ninety-eight pounds of canned and bagged dog food I bought.

Now, many people would say that it's improper for an almost seventeen-year-old girl to be committing crimes to play mindless jokes; these people have a good head on their shoulders. Good thing I don't, it must be so boring to be proper and responsible all the time.

My thoughts are interrupted by my mother's voice, as she, once again, screams really slow English into the phone. She finally gives up on the conversation and slams the phone down on the marble countertop.

"Why did I choose to go into business with foreigners?" I mouth at the same time she mutters to herself. It has been her motto for only the past ten years.

"You should invest in a translator," a state, grabbing an apple before planting myself onto a bar stool.

"Maybe I'll just stick to email so I don't have to socialize with anyone."

"That's not the spirit of the CEO of a major sales corporation." We have this conversation at least once every two days. So often that I know that she is about to change the subject in three... two...

"How was school? You and your friends doing anything stupid this weekend?"

"School was fine. I got all A's this semester." Thank you extra credit! "No plans." My mom hasn't grasped the fact that I haven't had friends to hang out with on the weekends since seventh grade when former-best friend, Sally Hinkle, decided it would be funny to start a food fight with my hair in the middle of the cafeteria. Apparently, her boyfriend told her to act more like me and she took great offense. She was always on the uptight side, that's why we were all surprised when she chucked a heaping pile of mashed potatoes at the back of my head, ruining her hot pink manicure in the process. I thought it was quite funny until she proceeded to dump cherry red Kool-Aid down the front of my favorite white shirt. That's when I shoved her into a rolling dumpster. Somehow she managed to split her lip as she fell, which resulted in my two-week suspension. If you were wondering, my mom didn't even know about this. She left me home while she visited the Japanese branch, what a blissful month and a half. I forged her signature on a few documents -- forging things is one of my many hidden talents -- and had a two-week vacation.

"Why are you staring off into space?"

"I was thinking about that time I split Sally Hinkle's lip open," I replied with a grin.

"Oh, that's nice," she said without glancing up from the phone in her hand.

"By the way, I'm going out of town. Leaving in the morning."

"How long will you be gone?"

"About two months. I have to oversee the development of the new branch in Sweden. I won't have cell reception. There is no way I'm paying ten dollars an hour for the out of country service. Don't trash the house. Marie is on call if you need anything." With that she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, eyes still glued to her phone.

Perfect, she'll be gone for my prank this weekend. Now I just have to worry about Marie doing her random house checks on me. Marie is my mother's assistant's assistant. She used to take care of me when I was little, but now she just does random house checks to make sure I haven't burned it down and cleans every Tuesday.

I trudge up the stairs to my room trying to figure out what I can do to be suspended from school without totally overdoing it. By the time I climb into bed, I decided to write a note to the principal explaining that while my mother is out of the country:

I will be staying with my grandmother. My mother cannot be contacted.I will have all of my teachers forward me my assignments.If you feel the need to confirm this information or contact me, call my grandmother.

I add my backup phone number and sign my mother's signature on the stationary "from the desk of Emilia Paine." to finish, I stamped it with the family seal, I have no clue why we would have one but I always see her stamp important documents with it, including school-related letters, so I thought, why not?

Carefully shoving it into my backpack, I lay out clothes for Friday morning and fall asleep thinking of all the mischief I might get into while Ms. Paine is away.