Life With the Crawford Boys

Chapter 20

   Chapter 20

  

   I stared at the broken piece of plastic that I picked up. My phone. My dear phone. It was shattered, and the whole damn thing broke.

  

   How? You may ask. Well I’ll tell you.

   I was talking to Bryce on speaker in the middle of Home Depot; suddenly he suggests that we do phone sex. Yeah… So he started to make the, you know, noises, and since it was on speaker, some people were giving me dirty looks, so instead of ending the call like a sane person would do, I threw my phone across the store. And it broke.

   At least one good thing came out of talking to Bryce. I got to know everyone’s relationship status. Callum’s going out with Justin. Emma’s going out with some guy named Robbie who I remember seeing at my old school in Phoenix. Stevie’s going out with some guy named Landon, who I’ve never heard of before, but he must be nice if Stevie’s going out with him. Tay’s single and ready to mingle, and Bryce is also single. He’s lookin’ for that ‘special someone.’

   I made a mental note to myself that I had to get Bryce. I shook my head and lugged the four buckets of yellow paint to the cashier and paid for it and quickly got out of the store.

   I drove Dylan’s silver Jaguar to Home Depot, so I would go back home in it. It was weird calling the Crawford’s house, my home. It just didn’t feel right, I guess.

   In case you were wondering what the four humongous buckets of yellow paint were for, I’ll just tell you. So if you don’t remember, Jason, Liam, and Reese pranked me so I would have to get back at them, right? Well anyway, the plan was to dump the buckets of yellow paint in a tub and soak all of their clothes so they would have to be wearing sunshine yellow clothes to school every day. I grinned evilly.

   I sat in the jaguar and examined my reflection in one of the side view mirrors and started the car. I buckled my seatbelt and started driving, going thirty miles an hour.

   In a few short minutes, I arrived at home, just as the rain started to pour.

   How was I going to do this? I decided that I wanted to pull up my hood and grab the paint and quickly run out of my car and to the house. Sounded simple enough. How hard could it really be?

   I reached over from the front seat and hauled the bag the paint was in, on my lap. It was heavy, so I ended up dropping a bucket on the floor. I groaned and bent down to pick it up, which really wasn’t easy. Each bucket weighed like four pounds.  

   After I got everything together, I pulled up my hood and tucked in all of my hair inside of it and pulled the string tight so it would hug my face tightly. I zipped up my sweater and prepared myself for the rain.

   It wasn’t drizzling like usual, it was pouring, in buckets. And I really didn’t want to get wet.

   I shot open the door and pulled myself out quickly, along with the paint and ran as swiftly as I could to the front door and bust it open.