The Prank Wars [On Hold]

Prologue

Charlie's POV:-

Misty was so fucking dead.

There were two things that I, Charlotte Evelyn Tanner, hated most in this world. Number one was admitting defeat to the one-and hopefully, only-Darius Worthington and number two was being late for homeroom.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't one of those uptight good girls who couldn't help but be a stickler for the rules. To be honest, I was actually quite the opposite.

But God pity the poor soul who had the misfortune of coming to homeroom late in Brantley High.

For those of you who don't know Mr. Ferguson, don't forget to thank your lucky stars every night; for those of you who do, you were probably Adolf Hitler or Joseph Stalin in your past life.

Mr. Ferguson is our homeroom teacher who feels that there is no need to punish those who are tardy.

No, instead you should only spread knowledge in order to teach one to avoid their mistakes.

Pretty sweet, right?

Not.

Unfortunately, the only knowledge Mr. Ferguson was capable of spreading was how he was the only person from Brantley to be drafted for the Vietnam War.

Yes, he was that, in fact, that old.

No, no, I'm not done yet. Once he was finished with his epic rants, he would quiz you on his life-not even allowing you to spare details such as The Case of the Missing Toe-and if feeling particularly happy, he would decide his autobiography was so inspiring that everyone should write a thousand word essay on how they aspire to be like him.

If that didn't guarantee you a one way ticket to most hated at Brantley High, I don't know what did.

Yet, Misty just had to hook up with her ex last night at 'the end of summer party' and go at him like a bunny in heat all night long.

"Don't worry, b-babe," she had slurred as Josh's hands began to roam some very inappropriate parts of her body, "I'm gonna be there for you."

I should have known she was lying, since when did she start calling me babe.

Misty hated all sorts of endearments, she wouldn't even let Josh call her babe, much less use it herself. For me. Sober Misty would have hated drunk Misty.

Again, Misty was so fucking d-

"I'M HERE, CHAR, I'M HERE! PLEASE DON'T..." Misty's voice died down as she saw my fuming expression, "kill me," she managed to squeak out.

Misty had the worst case of sex hair I had ever seen, blonde wisps fell all over her face as she struggled to clip them together, her blue eyes wild with panic.

I give up.

"Don't do that," I sighed, judging by the numerous hickeys on her neck, an updo was definitely out of question.

"Where's the car?" Ignoring her as she tried to explain herself, I headed out to her red Volkswagen.

"...And I swear I set my alarm to exactly 7 but Josh must have turned it off because-" she rambled.

Growing tired of the endless excuses, I cut her off, "Misty I swear if you don't shut up in the next five seconds and start driving instead, I will staple your nipples together."

That quieted her down.

                                   *****

We made it.