Karma wears stilettos (ON HOLD)

Chapter Eighteen: Godfather Mode

I nibbled on the back of my pencil throughout the day, getting small pieces of wood and dry acrylic paint stuck in my teeth every now and then.
It was around 2 in the afternoon, my last class for the day; AP English, an easy one, but deathly boring, I was having a hard time staying awake as Prof. Driscoll droned on and on about Lord Byron and his poems.

With a hefty sigh, I glanced at the empty desk besides me. Charlotte had skipped school today and hadn't given me an explaination. It wasn't completely unnatural for her to take a day off every now and then, but she always told me.

I sighed once more and glanced out the window, looking at the pale blue sky and the children's playground a distance away.

And then I saw it.

Or should I say her.

Nah, I'm gonna stick with it.

From where I was sitting, it was extremely hard to identify anyone anywhere near the playground. But I recognised that leather jacket and those sky high stilettos anywhere.

That was definitely the she beast.

I quickly snuck my phone out of my backpack and under my desk. As soon as Mr. Driscoll turned towards the board, I quickly texted Charlotte.

Me: why didn't you come to school today?

A few minutes passed and still no reply. I glanced out the window towards the playground and she was gone.

Odd.

I scanned the horizon for any sign of her. She couldn't have left that quick. I had only turned away from the window for a few minutes.

"Ahem," I heard Mr.Driscoll clear his throat and my heart dropped. "Ms. Richards, would you mind telling the class what exactly is so interesting outside the window?"

"Watching birds poop would be more interesting than this class," someone pipped up from the back, sending the class into a fit of chuckles. Mr. Driscoll rolled his eyes and tapped my desk twice. "Pay attention, Ms. Richards."

I nodded sheepishly and put my phone away. Making a mental note to get to the bottom of this Charlotte thing.

But for now, I had an AP English class calling my name.

~-~

"Mom, Dad, I'm home," I called out, tossing my keys into the bowl kept besides the door specifically for the purpose of keeping those keys Dad always seemed to lose.

"In the kitchen sweetie," Mom yelled back.

I sauntered over to the kitchen, where Mom was bent over a cooking book and Dad was covered in flour.

"Uhm?" I asked.

"We're baking brownies," Mom gleamed, stirring a bowl of batter besides her. She quickly dipped her finger in the bowl and tasted the raw batter. "Needs more sugar, Kyle."

"More sugar coming right up," Dad smiled, "How about I get some for all my hardwork?" He teased, leaning into mom. Mom let out a loud giggle and kissed him, "Maybe you'll get alot more later," she winked.

"Awh, come on gross!" I groaned, covering my eyes.

"What?" Dad asked, "can't a man love his beautiful wife?"