Snakes Don't Bite Their Owners

Criminals Aren't Allowed to Wear Shoes

So maybe attacking Jessica wasn't a good idea. 

It seems so badass in the movies and stuff, but in reality... it's gross and kind of painful. See, it turns out a lot of blood can come from one nose and it gets all over everything. Also, my hand is not made of steel and punching things actually really hurts.

Here's a quick recount of how things went down: I punch Jessica. Ouch, sore hand. Wow, lotta blood. Blood on shoes. Blood on floor. Many gasps. Loud shriek. Footsteps and panting in hallway... "HArRiEt vOn SChNooPpYpOoPpYpAnts... To mY OffIcE!! NOW." It was something like that anyway. 

The results? 2 weeks off school and a dislocated thumb. Score! (Not the thumb part obviously, that bit kinda sucks. Apparently you're supposed to put the thumb outside the fist, instead of squeezing it like a bottle of Mayonnaise that's only got a little bit left inside of it.) Well, at first I was excited... no more stupid school, no more stupid Jessica. But as it so happens, when there aren't any teachers to make fun of, or stupid assignments to complete at the last minute after counting how many blades of grass are in your garden just to procrastinate... you kind of start to forget how bad it is and kind of wish you weren't stuck at home all day. Kind of.

For the most part, being at home isn't so bad. It's amazing how many things you find to do... when there's absolutely nothing to do. And even though I'm not supposed to have any contact with the outside world, Roger and I find ways to communicate. At first, it was morse code using torches to shine messages through each other's windows late at night. But then my torch ran out of battery, and for some reason, despite all the junk in this stupid house... we don't have any batteries. Not even half used up ones. So we had to change our mode of communication. After an unsuccessful series of carrier pigeons, we settled on tin can phones. Then we realised we couldn't use string to connect them at risk of being found out, so clearly that idea was short-lived.

Our current communication consists of a series of secret messages hidden throughout my garden on rolled-up sheets of paper. It goes like this: I write a message and when I go outside in the morning, I leave it somewhere for Roger to find. Then, at night, when it's dark and everybody is asleep, Roger crawls into my garden and searches for the note. When he finds it, he reads it and writes a response that I collect the following day. That's all there is to it.

I've learned a few new things through these secret chats... 

First of all, Mary-Anne and snotty Andy are officially a thing. The only couple in the whole year in fact... because it turns out Ashley's fancy French boyfriend was all made up. Who would have thought? On top of that, everybody thinks I'm crazy and rumors are spreading like wildfire about my delinquent past. According to some girl I've never met before, I recently escaped from prison and the only reason I was actually allowed to be at school was because I just so happened to be holding Mr. Hexon's brother hostage in a shed in my garden. As if that's true... I don't even have a shed in my garden.

All in all, life as a locked-up criminal isn't the worst thing in the world. I get all the snacks I ask for and nobody looks at me funny if I stay in my pajamas all day long. And better yet... I have all the time in the world to plan my revenge.