Incharge

Chapter 2

Nick Owens

"Please Meghan, you've got to switch seats with me! Pretty please!"

Two hours into the flight and already Emiline Barker is complaining. All I could make out from her grumbling tone was that some mother couldn't control her feral five year old and that it was interrupting her chances of sleeping. I leaned forward in my seat getting a view of Meghan's face which looked awfully conflicted. You could tell she wanted to be a good friend but she just couldn't deal with a child kicking off behind her.

As I got more adventurous and leaned further in to listen to this petty argument, Emmy caught me staring.

"Connard, if you're going listen in you might as well help me." Emmy stared straight into my soul. Suddenly she spiralled off into a jumble of french and english trying to convince me to switch seats with her.

I was gradually getting more confused and her yapping was becoming unbearable, "Fine, jeez, I'll switch with you." Emmy clamped her mouth shut and gave me her sweetest smile. "But remember Barker," her smile faltered, "you owe me one."

I clambered out of my seat and exchanged seat numbers with Emmy. As I was about to trek into the feral's territory, I felt a light tap on my arm, "Thank you, I think I might've tried to strangle the poor thing if I'd switched with her." Meghan smiled meekly at me.

I nodded towards her and continued to search for Emmy's seat I scanned the overhead numbers until I was quite near the back. And then, to my right, I spotted my seat number - 43C. Next to me was a girl with voluminous brown locks which covered her face as her head was slightly drooping in sleep. How she could sleep while these children let all hell loose is news to me.

I sat down and plugged in the thin, white complimentary earbuds and clicked on the screen to watch anything to pass the time. As I was scrolling through an endless amount of movies, the girl's head lolled forward more.

Gently, I pressed my fingers to her temple and pushed her head back into a somewhat comfortable position. Then, as her hair unveiled her face, I saw that I was sitting next to none other than Scarlet Collins.

This girl had constantly been trying to beat me at everything we did. Simple maths tests to final english exams, it was a battle of the best in all aspects of Harrowhill's curriculum.

Scarlet Collins is the kind of girl that can glide through school and get away with everything she does wrong. One thing Miss Collins loves is firsts and lasts. She must come first in everything she does. If it is the last time she does something, it must be done more spectacular than she has ever done it before.

Ping, ping, ping!

All of a sudden, my phone started blowing up with messages,

Cory
cant wait for tn
u know who getin drinks

Kit
probs louie
been tryin to get no 1 since he started skl

Cory
we all know it aint gona be him
gona be one of us

Kit
been a girl for last 2 yrs

Cory
so what
break the cycle this yr

You
Cory u'll be too pissed to remember anything
u rn't getting no 1 bc u cant party or host w/o blackin out

Cory
fuck u

Kit
he not wrong

You
muting the gc now

I silenced the group chat thinking back to Cory's comment, what if one of us gets No. 1? What if I got No. 1? I would be down in the yearbook as No. 1 party goer/thrower; something like that. Imagine I was Head Boy also? I would have the best year with all the power and responsibilities, I would feel at peace. Everything could go how I pla-

Help.

She rolled onto my shoulder. Scarlet Collins is sleeping on my shoulder. Although I would love to smack her in the face and tell her to wake up and get off my shoulder; I'm sure there are crueller ways to take advantage of the current seating arrangement.

Again, I was lost in thought. How could I ruin Scarlet's first day back on her last year at Harrowhill? I guess I could pinch something out of her bag or ruin something but it just didn't seem like it would have the desired effect. What I needed was something classic, something that would make me laugh but also make her feel even just a little humiliated.

A lightbulb lit up in my brain. I wouldn't ruin some random thing in her bag - I would however love to ruin her No. 1 outfit.

A devilish grin plastered my face as I knelt down to pull Scarlet's bag out from under her seat. And as if it was fated, a white silk dress was neatly packed on top.

It was common for most Harrows to pack a 'night bag' so that everything we needed for the first day was accessible and not ending up in the wrong airport. My bet this year is that twelve new students won't have pjs tonight. I have never lost this bet, unlike Cory. When I tell you he was pissed, he was pissed. What was so funny about the situation was that he couldn't have a drink for the next three parties - and that's why you don't want to lose.

I continued to riffle through Scarlet's bag, "This girl has everything, scissors will be somewhere." I murmured to myself. I was satisfied when I found tiny little pink glitter scissors in her pencil case.

The dress was a glistening white with a high slit progressing into a ruched bow. The neckline was a deep V with a diamond stitched at the point. Thin spaghetti straps finished off the expensive piece and I thought to start there. I cut the straps at halfway and found the slit in the dress. I have no idea how high this slit will be on Scarlet but I just began chopping away at the fabric. I cut in a not-so-straight line from the top of the slit all the way around. Pleased with the result, I began folding the dress to tuck it away back in the bag.

As if by magic, the crazy five year old came running down the aisle with a pen gripped firmly in his palm and drew right across the cut off fabric of the dress. And, once again, a lightbulb light up my mind. A child with a pen could do a lot of damage. All I had to do was offer Scarlet's face as a drawing board. She wouldn't even see what had happened until we were on the bus to Harrowhill! It was so stupid that, in turn, it was exceedingly brilliant.

"Hey, d'you want to play a little prank?"

That kid was grinning like the Joker. I lifted him onto my knee and let his imagination run free all over Scarlet's face. The black ink from the pen was smudged in places and from what I can interpret, the kid had tried to give her glasses. I whispered ideas into the little boy's head of all the things he could draw all over Scarlet's face with the pitch black marker. When he felt like his job was done, I lifted him back into the aisle, gave him a big high-five and watched as the little terror ran back to his seat.

I checked the time, 2:51. A twenty minute nap won't kill me.