When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Grape Juice

“Okay people,” I announced, clapping my hands. “Are we ready to roll?”

Beth, Charmaine and Gertie nodded eagerly.

“We all know the plan, right?” I checked.

“Yup,” Gertie replied with a grin. “The super cool, simple, but totally effective plan.”

“Which may or may not result in our being kicked out of school,” added Beth.

“But we’re willing to take the risk,” finished Charmaine.

“For the greater good!” we all shouted together, pumping our fists in the air, acting like the dorks we totally were.

Man was I proud. I had trained them so well…

We got into our positions, giddy with excitement. Well, someone had to liven the school up. If not us, then who? Of course, this was Gertie, Beth and Charmaine’s first time, but I was pro.

Gertie and I took our places in the loos, with Charmaine and Beth outside on lookout.

It was just our luck that there happened to be someone in one of the cubicles.

Well, maybe it wasn’t luck. Maybe, just maybe, we had hidden in wait for Chelsea Adams – a zonker if ever I saw one – to enter the loos before we took it upon ourselves to liven up the school some.

But I was still leaning towards it being a coincidence.

I had the paper bag at the ready, and Gertie had her bucket of ice cold water. She went into the cubicle next to the occupied one and stood on the toilet (taking care not to look over, of course)

“We’re ready,” I whispered to Beth.

Then I took out the matches and lit the paper bag.

No, I was not planning to go to jail for arson. This was hardly mass murder. Let me finish.

You see, I was just a typical 16 year old girl.

With a vivid imagination and far too much spare time on her hands.

I blew out the flames (see, no arson there.) so all that was left was a smoking, charred and slightly warm piece of paper and flung it over the cubicle into Chelsea’s face.

Much as I hated the girl, I honestly couldn’t risk her getting hurt.

Apparantly she could sue me if that happened, and my parents wouldn’t pay for my lawyer.

Charmaine and Beth began to scream,

“FIRE! FIRE!”

at the top of their lungs.

I nodded at Gertie, and she tipped the water over into Chelsea’s cubicle, just as the poor child realised what was going on (or, in the absence of flames, what wasn’t going on) and started to scream.

“Flippin’ hell!” I yelled. “Are you trying to kill us?”

Chelsea burst out of the cubicle, dripping freezing water everywhere.

“Why?!” she howled, rushing to the mirrors and proceeding to examine her bleached blonde hair.

I was about to comment on how unhealthy bleach was when I was rudely interrupted by a horde of angry teachers and even a few braver students who didn’t actually believe there was a real fire.

“Bailey Haart!” growled Mr Henry.

Ah, my best pal!

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” I smirked.