Red-Heads On The Battle Front

16. "I MISSED THEE, WOMAN OF MY BIRTH"

The rest of the Whitfields' visit passed more or less peacefully. I am happy to report that on many an occasion I've seen Mr. Moron look at me warily, as if the counter-prank was just around the corner. Which it was, mind you, just not in full detail. And detail was important.

It had rained the previous day and the boxers on his roof were decidedly feeble in their waving in the wind. Good omens, good omens. As if to rebuild my sense of self-import (which had crumbled with the itching powder), I had overhead Cynthia laughing through Mr. Moron's phone at the boxers on his roof. He'd scowled and muttered something about Gwen being an annoying twat before he caught sight of me. Then he just flipped me off. Rude, much? Insert smug look here.

I hadn't dared sneak off to the library. Despite having escaped from the clutched of the flu, Mrs. Clarke had Cornelia become her permanent assistant for her exceptional work, which basically meant that Celia hung out there too. Double, double, toil and trouble. Furthermore, Mr. Moron had made it one of his favorite haunts, apart from the park, where he went to go run and sweat like a pig in the name of soccer. Eugh. The stink on that one is powerful, I tell you, and I no longer doubt why his laundry pile is smellier than a pig bathing in rotting fish stew. Yes, it's that bad. No, I'm not exaggerating. Okay, maybe a little bit, but it is, for the most part, true.

This made the house, on more than one occasion, empty and I managed to use most of this free time to plot and plan like the devious little thing I was...with the help of my trusty sidekick, of course. May was enraged (although way too appreciative of the prank for me to like) and she helped me with the plans for revenge. The key was to keep it simple and sweet - something that would serve as payback, and yet not endanger my life as the boxers had done. It didn't help, however, when Mr. Moron barged into my room during one of these brainstorming sessions reeking of sweat and testosterone because he knew that I hated it.

He'd pranced around like the pompous prick he was, while I screamed obscenities at him. He stopped long enough to flirt with May, who raised an eyebrow and 'Mhmm'-ed at him, but this was for my benefit only, because I could've sworn that her lips twitched, just for a fraction of a second there. After I forcibly ejected him from my room, she blamed it on Skype glitching but she was laughing while she said it so I guess that doesn't count.

Finally, finally came the day when our moms were coming back. Gods. This day couldn't have been slower in its arrival. I eagerly awaited the black car whose name I couldn't remember to save my life and all the beautiful, wonderful people inside it.

"I see them!" I yelped, bouncing up and down on the front porch. "I see them!" The car was still a small black dot and I waited impatiently for it to grow larger as it got nearer. It firmly remained small and dot-sized. I groaned. Come on.

"Oh stop with the theatrics, Gwen" Celia reprimanded, sitting primly on the top step with Cornelia. The pair looked crestfallen - but I couldn't be worried about that, because, hey, guess what? The car wasn't dot-sized anymore!

"Mum! MUM!" I yelled tumbling through the glass as I wildly ran towards her.

"I MISSED THEE, WOMAN OF MY BIRTH" I yelled in her ear. She winced, but smiled.

"I missed you too, sweetie. I'm glad to see the house hasn't burned down"

"It almost did, trust me." And then I glared "You're horrible. Leaving me alone and defenseless for five whole days!" She rolled her eyes

"Well, my little duckling has to grow up some time"

I gasped dramatically

"DAD! MUM'S CALLING ME UGLY!"