Don't Get Angry

8- Otis: Sheep's Mask

I sat on the floor beside Peter staring at the TV with wide eyes. "How does Dalta expect this plan to work? We wait till he goes to pee?" She walked into the room an hour late. "Hey," she sang walking over to me and sitting beside me on the floor.

"You do know that Penny's out today, right?" Peter looked at her. "Every other weekend she goes to swimming lessons from now on because of-"

"We know!" I shouted, forcing a fake smile on my face. I turned away from him and my smile immediately disappeared.

Dalta sat closer to me. "Get him out of the room," she whispered in my ear.

"How?" I whispered back. "And you're late."

Peter paused the game and looked at us. "What's going on? Are you two talking about me?"

"Yes," I mocked him. "We're whispering about your receding hairline and how old you look for a twenty-two-year-old right in front of your face."

He glared at me, then he turned away and unpaused the game.

Dalta pushed my arm. "That wasn't nice."

"Am I ever nice?" I looked at her.

She stared at me, looked at my lips, then a weird, evil-looking smile spread across her face. She looked at Peter. "I came to make out with Otis."

My eyes grew. I turned to Peter.

He paused the game, dropped the controller, then began to slow clap, looking at me with a smile. "About time, Otis, about time. I'll go shower and give you two some space."

"That's what that smell was?" Dalta teased, covering her nose and mouth.

"I know, right?" Peter stood. "It reminds you of your mother's cooking, doesn't it?"

"Peter!" I shouted and glared at him. Never talk about a person's mother was my number one rule. Mother, sister, brother, father-anyone in a person's family. Family was out of bounds.

He grabbed his towel and walked out of the room shutting the door. Dalta quickly leaned over, looking under the bed.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for the mask. WOW! Under here is dis-GUS-ting."

"Where did he put it when you brought it back?" I stood prepared to look for this non-existent mask.

"On his bed." She slipped under the bed.

"So, why are you checking under it? There's a better chance of it being on this unmade bed than in the jungle under it."

"I can't see anything under here."

"Why are you trying to prove that the mask exists? I wouldn't believe the whole cult thing regardless."

"That's the thing. People see evidence that 9/11 was an inside job and we ignore it. How could a plane cause a tall sturdy building to turn into a cloud of dust like that? And so fast? It was a bomb, dude! I know it!"

"You need to stop with these other theories if you want me to follow you on this one, because you're getting on my nerves." I looked at her legs under the bed. They were flat. "Dalta?"

"OH MY..." Her shout was muffled by the mattress above her.

I rolled my eyes. "Is there a dead body under there?"

"Worse..."

"Okay." I clenched my fists annoyed at the long pause she took. "Dalta, what could be worse?"