Why do i always get the blame?

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suuuuup :) chapter three's nearly done, should be done in two or three days... so i hope you like this chapter, i know they must be AGONISINGLY boring, but i have ot maintain a buildup for the story to make sense. kthnx!

love yoohs xox

Chapter three

Ramona Hobbs POV

Holy crap pizza is good. I wish I could eat it constantly, but, you know, I have to be fair and let Antoinette clean the oven sometime. I look down at my athletic body and wonder for the millionth time why I’m not fat. I eat constantly, and like a horse. My mum says it’s because I have high metabolism. Or low, I’m not quite sure.  I pull out my phone to do a little research when I hear a screaming from ambers room. I look up just as her door swings open and see her pushing riley out with one hand and a bundle of clothes in the other.

“Get out of here Riley! I’ve had it with you! Take you’re stupid clothes and your pathetic bag and your lame ass cellphone!” amber yells, hardly caring about the fact that she is wearing nothing but some boyleg underpants and a pink lacy bra. What’s even worse is poor riley has absolutely nothing on, as amber still has his clothes in her clutch.

“Good bye, Riley Torres!” she slams the door and riley hangs his head. He looks up and sees me standing there. A look of panic also crosses his face when he realises he is naked.

“Don’t worry man, with a roomie like Amber, I’ve seen it all before. Gimme a sec.” I say. His eyes are constantly averting around to see if there is anybody else in the rom. I push open Ambers door slightly and peer in. Amber is sitting on the bed pulling on a pair of green tights and looks up when she sees me.

“Oh, hey Ray! Need his clothes?” I nod and she chucks them at me.

“Here you go cowboy.” I say and pass him his clothes. He scuttles off to the bathroom and I walk Into Amber’s room. I flop down on her bed and think how lucky I am… the best school in the country, great food, an awesome dorm and a best friend in amber Fisher.

“Raaaaay? Hello? You in there? I said, I am going for a jog you wanna come with?” she asks.

“Why do want to go for a run? Doesn’t sex burn like, a thousand calories a second?” I ask back

“First of all, we didn’t have sex…for very long anyway. And secondly, unlike you, this hot ass needs maintenance to keep perfection.” She replies resentfully.

“What were you even fighting about?” I question.

“ Don’t worry about it. Are you coming or not?” she persists.

“No, I’ll be right. I might cook dinner.” I reply

“Please don’t. The last time I swear I couldn’t see for a week!” she giggles

“Don’t lie, it wasn’t that bad!” I slap her arm playfully.

“oh no you didn’t!” she says, and tackles me off the bed. She grabs a pink butterfly pillow off her bed and whacks me on the head with it. I squeeze her middle and she screams loudly.  Just as I am about to whack her with towel laying on the ground, the doorbell rings.

“Twice in one day?” I ask jumping up.

I walk to the door and swing it open. There, standing on our front stoop, the scariest woman I will ever know. Mrs hill.

“Ramona Prudence Agatha Hobbs! I trust you are not getting up to trouble?” she asks in her poncy English accent.

“No, never Mrs Hill, wouldn’t dream of it!” I reply shakily.

“Well, then would you care to explain the screaming and shouting coming directly from this dorm house? We have had an anonymous student complain it is disrupting their pre- school studying.” Pre- school studying? Who does that? No one is smart enough to grease up the principal other than… I look over Mrs Hill’s shoulder and see Cleo’s smirking at the bottom of the path with her best friend, Sasha Phillips.

“Well, you see Mrs Hill, there was this…. Armadillo, or something and-“ I’m cut off by Mrs Hill screaming.

“Is that a NAKED BOY IN YOUR DORM!!” she yells. Oh man! Riley clearly didn't find the bathroom.

“Uhm…no?” I try

“MY OFFICE. NOW!” she yells again

“But it wasn’t me!” I argue

“NOW!” she yells louder.

“Fine,” I say grudgingly

"YOU TOO, NAKED BOY!" she yells even louder than before

Why do I always get the blame?

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