I'm Marrying The Asshole of My School?

“Miss Kincaid, what on earth is that?”
I looked up at my art teacher, Mrs. Boyd and then down at my work…then back up at her, “You told us to make a 3D face out of Popsicle sticks. What do you think this is?”
She sighed, and picked up the glued mess, “This,” She motioned to the cacophony of sticks and glue, “Is definitely not a 3D face.”
“Well, I’m not an artist, Mrs. Boyd,” I crossed my arms, making sure not to get glue on my shirt or other body part, “You can’t expect me to do everything perfectly.”
“Perfectly? Honey, I wouldn’t care what it looked like as long as you tried,” She gave a heavy sigh, “But this looks like you just stuck them all together in a big heap.”
“Maybe because it looks awesome,” I rolled my eyes.
Her eyebrows rose up considerably, “Awesome is definitely an overstatement.”
I shrugged, “I like it.”
She gave up, placing my project back down on my desk and went off to go check on some other people. I stared down at the mess and began to think it was Eric’s face. My eye twitched, “Damn him.”
Since that fateful day, a week ago, I’ve been scheming and plotting ways to get back at Eric. Not because I was upset from his sort of cheating on me (I think…if that’s what you want to call it), but because he hasn’t said two words to me…not even ONE word! I think we were at the point in the marriage where the husband and wife don’t talk and soon go on an emotional ride through Fuckville (heh, Dane Cook), where every time they change direction it just takes them further into Hell called divorce.
Yep, sounds about right.
So far, my plans have failed; putting a whole bottle of hot sauce in his spaghetti and meatballs during lunch (apparently he loves hot sauce), hiding his homework and then throwing it away later (the teacher loves him and doesn’t care that he doesn’t have it!), even going so far as to call his Dad as the vice principal saying he was doing drugs in the bathroom (guess who gets in trouble?). I grumbled to myself, still having three more office detentions to do. I’ve reached my plotting wall for now. Until I can find another plan, I’ll have to be stealthy and cunning…like a ninja!
Nodding to myself, I grabbed my books and headed to the first floor as the bell shrilled. Emma was waiting for me in front of the lunch room, “Hey!”
She had on a pair of tight jeans, her Converse and a vintage blue tee shirt, looking positively happy. I was radiating evil from every pore of me as I got to her, “Hey Ems.”
Her eyebrows rose and then furrowed together, “What’s wrong?”
“Every attempt at making Eric’s life a living Hell has failed epically!” I exclaimed, getting a few looks from people heading into the lunch room. Emma gave them all the Move-Along-Before-I-Whip-Out-My-Fists look and they scurried along. I was still fuming when we sat down on the steps that lead into the cafeteria.
“So, you’re really Hell-bent on destroying him?” She took a bite out of her slice of pizza.
“Yes,” I muttered before chopping down on my egg salad sandwich (people say it’s gross, but I love it).
“And now, you’ve run out of ideas?” She looked up and thought for a minute.
I followed suit, staring at the clouds, trying to get my brain to function, “Yep.”
“I wonder…” She began.
“What?” I looked over at her, excitedly.
“What if we get the help from a certain cousin of yours,” Emma grinned.
“You don’t mean to say…”
“Yes,” She started, standing up, “I mean we need real help. Which means we need to bring in the heavy artillery.”
She placed her fists on her hips, “We need the help of a professional, someone who lives to ruin people. We need…”
“Delaney,” We said simultaneously.

“YOU NEED MY HELP WHY?” The sound of my cousin’s voice filled the other line on my cell.
“We have a guy situation,” I said, sitting in the middle of the bed Indian-style.
“As in?” She asked, boredly.
“As in, we need you to get your tail over here and help us.”
“What kind of guy situation?” She spat the word ‘guy’ like it burned her tongue.
“We need to destroy his life.” Emma cut in on the other line; 3-way calling, gotta love it.
I heard a shuffle and then, “I’ll there tomorrow. Mom and I were planning on coming there anyway. But that, I will explain tomorrow! I missed you girls a ton.”
“We missed you too!” Emma exclaimed and I laughed.
“I’ll be over around 3 so we can meet up at our old hang out.”
Our old hang out was this old tree house out behind Mr. Chung’s house. It belonged to his son but when he left for college, Mr. Chung let us use it for our “secret official girl meetings”. Very childish, I know, but what do you expect? We were twelve! Oh…that’s not that young, is it?
“All right, love ya Schnitzel!”
“Why still with the Schnitzel?” Delaney exclaimed.
“Because we love you,” Emma said in a happy tone.
“I’ll see ya’ll tomorrow. Remember; 3 p.m. at the old hang out.”
“Righty-o,” I said.
We all said out goodbyes and hung up. I scratched Romeo’s head, “I think we just sent the Devil after Eric.”
Romeo woofed quietly in response, then suddenly looked over at the door a minute before Rowen entered.
I smiled, “Hey there.”
“Hey, did I hear you and Emma plotting something?” He came in and sat down next to me.
“My lips are sealed,” I did the invisible zipper across my lips.
He smiled, “I see.”
I nodded and made the shooing motion with my hands. He just rolled his eyes and leaned over, kissing my forehead, “Night, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I made the innocent angel face and he chuckled, leaving me to sleep.

DELANEY A.K.A. SCHNITZEL, was sitting up in the tree house as expected, a black suitcase propped up against the wooden wall behind her. She had her dark blonde hair down around her heart-shaped face, layered, stopping to the middle of her back. When she saw us she stood up and came over, “Izzy, Ems!”
“Schnitzel,” We both exclaimed and had one huge group hug.
I stood back, my hands cupping the sides of her face, “I haven’t seen you in forever! You look so different.”
Which was true, the last time I saw her, she was moving away in the sixth grade. She grew out her those baby cheeks and now had high cheekbones and a narrow chin. Her eyes were a bright hazel blue/ green still, eyebrows still looked like they were waxed (but really that’s just how they looked), the same straight nose and freckles with normal sized lips. She also grew taller then me; I remember when me and Emma would have fun calling her “Shrimp” but not anymore. She had at least 2 inches on me, earning her a place around 5’4”. She, Emma, and I were all born a month apart; Emma in April, me in May, and Delaney in June. So we’re all 17 and normally celebrate our birthdays together.
“Of course! I am older now,” She laughed, rolling her eyes.
The one thing she never grew out of was tilting her head to the left; I noticed almost instantly even if it wasn’t that noticeable. I was her cousin and I know these things. She does this because she used to ice skate and all the spinning made her head tilt until it because sort of natural.
She wore a Green Day band tee with ripped blue jeans and a pair of Converse, “Anyway, we need to get down to business.”
We all sat around the round table in the middle of the room and I began to explain what happened up until this point. All the while, Delaney was nodded, scoffing, or saying “The nerve of that jackass!” every other sentence I say. Emma offered up some more after I was done talking and then when everything was said, Delaney’s hands fisted, “He’s definitely gonna pay for hurting you.”
Emma and I nodded, and I leaned in, “So what can you do?”
She thought for a minute, and then gave us her evil I’ve- Got-A-Plan smirk, “I’ve got a plan.”
See?