Mirage (The Great Wattpad Write-Off)

It All Started with a Hairbrush

I have a terrible secret to confess:

I absolutely hate it when people touch my stuff.

I don't have OCD. I'm not a germaphobe. It's just—let me give an example.

Yesterday, I was at soccer practice. My sister, who's a 12-year-old brat, snuck into my room and took my pink hairbrush. It's my favorite hairbrush, and it's the only one I own. No other hairbrush that I've owned can get through my tough tangles in one stroke. Now, I don't attribute that to its pinkness, it's just the brand of hairbrush that's good, and I happen to like the color pink.

Nonetheless, I got home and immediately got into the shower, as I always do, not thinking to make sure my hairbrush was still on the counter. When I got out, a towel wrapped around my body, I could not find it. I looked on the counter, in my drawers, under the sink, in the medicine cabinet, and even in the trash can because maybe it had fallen off of the counter.

Then I remembered. My door was open when I got home. I never leave my door open, or else the dog might get in and eat my Converses—again.

I stormed out of my room. I gripped the towel tightly around my body and barged into Margot's room. "Where is my pink hairbrush?" I demanded.

She looked up from her phone in amusement. "Your what?"

"My hairbrush. It's pink. It's my favorite. It's the only one I own. Where is it?"

Margot rolled her eyes. "I needed it for a video I was making for my channel. It should be on the counter. Don't be such a drama queen, Stacy." She grinned at me, obviously proud of herself.

I stomped into her bathroom and grabbed my pink hairbrush. I stomped back to face her. I ran the brush through my hair roughly to get the tangles out. "Don't touch my stuff. I need this hairbrush, or else my hair becomes a tangly, staticky, frizzy mess."

"You don't need it." Margot rolled her eyes again. "Drama queen!"

I stuck my tongue out at her. "Go in my room again, and you're dead."

Needless to say, I was livid. That little twerp had it coming for her, and I knew just how to give it to her.

My sister had two obsessions, just like all other middle-school-aged girls: making videos, and making slime videos. Her channel had, like, six subscribers, and they were all her friends. She loved her slime—probably more than she loved me. She had this whole organization thing, with, like, eight million containers and twelve drawers. She even transformed her dresser into slime storage and now throws her clothes in bins in her closet.

This made it too easy.

Every Thursday night at seven, Margot had flute lessons. She hated them (she hates a lot of things), but our dad diligently ensured that she was there, on-time, every time. So I waited. They left at 6:45 on the dot. I gave them five minutes, in case they forgot something, and then I began my mission.

I crept into her room. Not like I needed to hide from anybody; it's just more fun that way. The floor was carpeted, which was unfortunate because she was always spilling slime, and now the carpet was a sticky mess of pinks and blues and greens. I opened the top drawer of her dresser. It was filled to the brim with containers of pink slimes. The next one was purple, then sparkly, then light pink, and then blue.

First, I took some purple containers and put them in the blue drawer. Then, I put some of the darker pink slimes with the light pink slimes.

This wasn't exciting enough for me, though. I needed to have more fun with it. On top of her dresser, she had a bucket of slime-making supplies. There was an organized container of glitters, too, so I opened it. I took out orange glitter and opened a blue slime. I dumped the glitter in it, mixed it, then put it back in the blue drawer.

Margot would have a fit. But I wasn't done yet.

Her favorite slime she ever made always stayed right next to her bed. It was a clear slime with the perfect blend of styrofoam beads and a dash of sparkle! I had a truly evil idea: I could add it to another slime, perhaps a butter slime to ruin its beautiful consistency.

But I realized then that I was taking it too far. She only took my hairbrush, and I was acting irrationally. So I just took the slime back to my room and hid it in my desk.

When Margot got home, I listened to her climb the stairs as I sat in my bed. I heard her feet pass my door and walk down the hallway to her room. Only a few seconds passed before I heard her stomps growing louder. She flung my door open and it crashed into the pink wall.

"Where's my special slime?"

I smiled. "Your what?"

"My special slime. Y'know, my favorite one?"

"Oh, right. The one you keep by your bed. Check the bathroom."

While she searched my bathroom, I got out of bed and opened the desk drawer. I took the slime out and watched as she came back out of the bathroom. She opened her mouth as if to say something, and then she saw the container in my hand.

"Give it back!" she demanded.

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be such a drama queen," I told her and tossed the container.

I saw a quick glint of mischievousness in her eyes before she turned and ran back to her room. A few seconds later, she ran back. She had a big glob of slime in her hand. My jaw dropped as she held it, getting ready to throw.

"Don't you dare—" I warned, but it was too late. The slime left her hand, and I threw my hands up immediately to catch it, but part of it escaped my grasp and landed on my shirt. I gasped. I gave her the most evil look I could muster and screamed, "YOU'RE SO DEAD!"

I lunged for her, and she turned around shrieking, racing back to her room. I held the slime in my hand as I chased after her, letting out a laugh because I couldn't keep the mad face up. "You little brat!" She rifled through her drawer to get out a slime, but I got her first. I threw the slime and it hit her in the back.

She faced me again and chucked another ball of slime at me. I pushed it out of the way nearly successfully and ran to get slime from her drawers. As I was getting one out of a container, she took a handful of goop and smeared it in my hair.

I stopped what I was doing. She got it in my hair. I screamed, but I was smiling. I took slime and rubbed it in Margot's face. "Take that!"

Then we heard loud footsteps rushing up the stairs. We immediately froze out of fear when we saw our mom coming straight for us.

"GIRLS!" she yelled as she entered the room. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Sorry, Mom, we were just having fun," I apologized.

Then Margot piped up and told her, "Sorry, Mom, it was my fault. I threw some slime at her and then we started playing."

Our mom shook her head. "You girls," she sighed. "Clean this mess up. And try to get the slime out of your carpet, this is ridiculous."

As she left, we both looked at each other and snickered, which quickly turned into full-on laughing. We started to clean up the terrible mess that we made, and I made sure to put the slimes back in the right containers.

"I can't believe you came into my room to put my slimes in the wrong drawers," Margot told me. "All over a stupid hairbrush."

"Hey," I stopped her, "it's a great hairbrush."

We both laughed again. "Sorry for touching your stuff. And for getting slime in your hair."

"That's okay," I replied with a smile. "Too bad Mom had to come ruin our fun."

"Yeah, she's pretty terrible."

When we finished cleaning up, I showered again and brushed out my hair. Margot came into my room, too, and braided my hair. Even though she got on my nerves sometimes, I still had a pretty great sister.