When Perfect Meets Crazy

09 - Till death do us part

Honestly, it was a miracle no one else had figured out Masked Idiot's identity.

Whatever it was.

If he really didn't want me to know he was rich then he should have laid off the labelled sneakers and the expensive watches that could pay my tuition which was saying a lot because Claire Anne High was one of the most expensive private schools in the state. He should've also toned down the designer clothes.

He ran off all of two minutes after denying my accusations in the most unconvincing manner. To be entirely honest, he didn't feel much like a criminal. He was so bad at it. He just felt like a regular stupid boy to me.

Maybe if he was a little older or smarter I wouldn't have such a hard time seeing him as a criminal. Unfortunately, he looked early twenties at best and was clearly not half as bright. He was way too young for me to take him seriously especially given how idiotic he seemed. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that he is cognitively impaired.

"Idiot," I muttered, shaking my head in disapproval as I rolled over.

After he left, I turned off the lights and got in bed. It was barely ten o'clock on a Friday night and I was already tucked in.

How boring.

I couldn't help thinking about the party I had chosen not to attend so I could get back on my mom's good side. If her reaction to my 'flying cockroach' was any indication, the tactic hadn't worked.

I should've just gone to the party.

For all their faults, my parents weren't against parties. They weren't strict in the normal way. They were strict in the you-know-your-duties-do-it way. Provided Olly and I did what we were supposed to do -which included having boring after school jobs that would look good on college applications and getting perfect grades-, they didn't interfere.

As long as we stayed out of trouble, we got free reins till eleven p.m. Well, nine thirty p.m. for Olly. She was only a freshman after all. Eleven on weekends. I didn't officially have a curfew on weekends.

I sighed heavily, rolling onto my other side.

Honestly, life wasn't going my way a lot these days. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why Masked Idiot felt the need to stalk me. I couldn't be more normal. More upstanding. More uninclined to break the law. For heaven's sake, my mom was a lawyer and my dad was a cop. Not just any cop, the sheriff.

I lived in a house that could've come straight out of a magazine. As a matter of fact, the house had been featured in Aunt Diane's magazine. It was that house. The one people saw and automatically knew a successful high-achieving family lived in. The house where people would ask the wife how she kept the rug and sofa so white.

A healthy dose of responsibility mixed with an unhealthy dose of fear. That's the big secret to the ever white rug, Mrs. Brown.

It was that house with an intimidating display of awards and trophies honouring each family member. The house where music was never played too loud, if ever. The house where the kids were always perfectly behaved and cultured. The house that all other houses were compared to.

Literally everything about me screamed that I wouldn't be interested in Masked Idiot's little illegal business. I was practically the poster child for good kids all over the world.

"I'm perfectly harmless," I grumbled aloud, tossing and turning to the other side as I waited, impatient for sleep.

If anything I was the one who was meant to be suspicious, not the other way around. His story was not at all adding up. I knew I was right about him being rich. There was no doubt about. The problem was that alone blew his story out of the water. No matter how I looked at it, it didn't fit with the I'm-so-broke-I-need-to-commit-crimes-for-money vibe most criminals had going on. It just didn't.