Anarchy

Chapter 6: Goodbye Greensville

"You can't just sit there and mock me all night."

I stared at the spider on my ceiling—no response.

The last two days have been painfully boring. Not only was I under house arrest, but dad thought it appropriate to confiscate both my phone and laptop, which is pure evil in my opinion.

So I've been stuck here, mostly in my room, trying to amuse myself. Earlier today, I had almost succeeded in distracting myself by experimenting with plastic straws and milk; I was trying to see how far away I could stand and still take a sip. Needless to say, my approach of taping the straws end to end wasn't the most intelligent thing to do and I wound up having to wipe up the contents of the glass off the floor. But hey, at least I didn't cry over it.

And that brings me back to why I am talking to a spider; my mind has become delirious from boredom and thinks the spider will talk back. Or at least understand what I am saying.

We had been having a rather one-sided conversation. I would tell him a joke, he wouldn't laugh—probably because spiders don't have a great sense of humor. Then I would ask about his rather repulsive taste in insects, which he didn't honor with a response. I was about to inform him that he was being cuckolded (his spider wife had been having a rather scandalous affair with his spider neighbor), when I heard a tap at my window. Probably a squirrel. Gosh I hate squirrels.

But then I heard another tap. Curious, I sat up.

Then came another tap.

Excusing myself from the conversation with Mr. Spider, I got up and made my way over to the window, ready to tell the pesky animal to go bother someone else, preferably the Sheriff.

But there was nothing there.

Instead, a pebble came flying towards me. I ducked before realizing there was a sheet of glass between the pebble and me.

Looking down, I realized Jamie was standing on the driveway, throwing rocks at my window like he's straight out of some cheesy rom-com. I had forgotten that I told him to stop by.

He waved.

Opening the window, I started scolding him in a half-whisper (my dad was sleeping. surprise, surprise).

"What are you doing throwing rocks at my window?! Geez Jamie, you could have broken through the window. Not to mention my own personal safety! I could have been killed."

And let me tell you, I'm not going down with a pebble to the brain. I want to die with at least 6 gunshot wounds while attempting to pull-off the greatest heist in the history of mankind. Or something like that.

"First of all, we both know that you don't really care about either of those things. And secondly, if you would look more closely, they're not actually rocks. They're little balls of clay. I found a type of clay sediment around the porch..." I tuned him out. I can't stand to listen to him talk about sediment and rocks and the like. Quite honestly, I would rather converse with Mr. Spider.

Picking up one of the 'pebbles', I realized he was right.

"...it's probably from when the stream was diverted over to Mrs. Jasper's farm. Although it could be from—"

"Jamie."

He stopped his rambling. I looked down at the paper bag he was carrying.

"I take it you have the item?" I questioned. He nodded. I had asked him to retrieve it from outside the Sheriffs office. "Okay, hold on."

I turned back into my room to fetch the oversized pink tutu I had stashed underneath my bed. Turning back to the window, I dropped it down to Jamie.