Prank Wars

CHAPTER 1

A/N This book is rated PG-13 because it does have some swearing in it. And one more thing; THIS IS NOT A ROMANCE. Anyways, enjoy!

Emma's eyes widened. "You actually did it? What the hell is wrong with you, Aaron? You know how he doesn't like to get humiliated, he's insecure and--"

"Emma! You are the one who is obsessed with him! You probably know which toothpaste he brushes wth." Aaron said. I think Iiked it better when she write love poems to her jar of Nutella. She still has it, sitting on her bedside table, gathering dust. Poor Nutty.

Emma lowered her head slightly. "He brushes with Crest, and likes berry toothpaste more than mint."

I slapped her. "Stalker."

 She raised her hands above her head. "Okay, I'm guilty--wait, you're distracting me, girl you gotta talk! Tell me everything. Go."

 I looked at Emma squarely. "You're gonna have to sit down for this one."

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It's a Good Good Morning

I groaned, holding the pillow over my face. Tthis was not a good morning, it was a tired morning.

I was not meant to be a morning person.

Wake up to a brand new day....

"Shut up." I groaned, banging my stupid phone. Ugh, make it stop. I grabbed my phone and buried it under my pillow. I got a new phone for my birthday, and it had an alarm feature, and my mom made me HAVE TO SOLVE A FREAKING MATH PROBLEM TO SHUT THE DAMNED THING OFF. I picked the phone up, the bold numbers on my screen read: 6X5=_

I drowsily typed in the numbers 3 and 0.

It's a good, go--

Thank God, I thought as I nestled myself further into the covers.

"AARON! TIME FOR SCHOOl! GET DOWN HERE!" Moms. They think we have to go to school...psh, highschool is overrated. It's a place where you have to dodge the endless troves of acne infested teens. Trust me, I've been going there for years. I get up by rolling off the bed, and landing on the ground with a solid thud.

Ow.

I crawl down the stairs, and then noticed I forgot my phone, and had to climb all the way back up again. By the time I got down to the kitchen floor, I was out of breath. PE, check! Now how to explain that to Mr. Evernley..... "I'm here." I gasped.

"You're here but you're still in your pajamas, and your hair is a mess! Did you brush your teeth, you don't want bad breath all-"

"Okay, okay, I got it, lemme just text Emma, too tell her we're gonna be a little late." Emma was my best friend since diapers, I literally grew up with her. We both share a love of Nutella, thriller movies, and staying up realllllllly late until we get busted by being to loud. I ran up the stairs, washed my face, brushed my teeth (can I please go to bed now?), and combed my ratty brown hair. I need to find some better shampoo, mine makes my hair yucky. My mom was honking in the car outside, so I grabbed my phone and jumped in the car, flipping my phone screen on. There were already five texts fom Emma, each with WAY to many cuss words for a simple 'get over here' text.

When my mom pulled into the driveway of Emma's house, which is right across the street, (Emma refuses to walk), she was standing there, hands on her hips, with a very pissed off expression on her face.

"Good morning?" I tried.

"Fudge you." She replied, getting in the back seat of the car, next to me, and slammng the door.

"Language!" My mother trilled. Honestly, she knows nothing about me or how Emma and I love to cuss... it's what we do. I mean, I love my mom, we're more like best friends, but sometimes.. she gets it fatally wrong.

My mom pulled into the high school parking lot, and Emma and I got out. Emma slammed the door behind her again. It was silent. Well, except for the people talking, and walking, and the honking of horns, since we were standing in the middle of the road. But Emma did have a way to effect your mood.... it was like telepathy.... yeah.

"Hello?" I asked. Then I facepalmed. Well, that was a failure at talking to your best friend. "You're not seriousley mad at me, are you?"

She turned around with a smile on her face. I almost died of relief. "Gotcha!" She said.

"Dude, you do that again, and I'm throwing Mr. Nutty out the window."

Emma made a mock frown. "Not Mr. Nutty! You wouldn't do that Aaron, we've been on double dates before!" It's actually true. Once, I was on a date, and Emma brought Mr. Nutty along in her purse, the top of the jar poking out. She kept talking to it, like a crazy person, and me, being stupid, also talked to it.  In case it isn't obvious, I did not have a second date with him.

Me and Emma were spending to much time dawdling, so we ran into the school. The cold air conditioning was totally awesomeazing (my new word I just made up, which I am going to copyright). But, then I neared my first period class. I shuddered. Ugh, language arts with Mr. McPoopyPants, or you could just call him Asshole. But most of the time, we call him Mr. Chevsky. I reached out my hand, looing for Emma's reasurring nodd.

"Bitch, just open the damn door."

Close enough.

I walked into the Classroom of Doom, begging for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Chevsky," we both said together.

"I woke up late and-"

"It's Aaron's fault," Emma pointed at me.

"Thanks for the support," I said, punching her shoulder roughly. She winced.

"You're very welcome," she said.

"Now girls," Mr. chevsky drawled, "I'm sure we both know who's fault it is."

Of course, he was talking about me. Our history wasn't exactly what you call normal. It's actually my mom's fault, she dated my teacher in highschool (awkward, right?) and she apparently broke up with him for unknown reasons. Honestly, I don't want to know. Well, anyway, he never forgave her, and when he saw me, he decided to make my life a living hell. Didn't talk to my mom for a week after she told me...

"I'm sorry," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Yes," he said, "you are. And detention will make sure you stay that way."

"WHAT?" I stomped my foot. "That is not fair! That is--" I broke off as Emma grabbed my arm, wrapping her hand around my mouth.

"She'll be there." Emma smiled nervously up at Mr. Chevsky's smirk, dragging me to my seat.

"You'll be joining your classmate, Tyler. Now please resume your seat, Aaron, or I will have to extend you punishment."

Oh shit. Oh, no, no, no, no, no, NO. Not Tyler.

He's the bad boy. No, not the ruggedly handsome, motorcycle riding guy. The guy that smokes weed, beats people up, and is a total man-whore. Yes, he may be gorgeous, but he's a class-A bag of dip shit.

Please.

Kill.

Me.

Now.

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