Picking the Wallflower

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Chapter 12


Blog post 2047, 20 November

I do have a life, you know

I apologise to all of my panicking readers for missing my update. Something urgent came up, and I didn’t get an opportunity to post.

I must inform all of you, I won’t be around for the next week, so you will just have to look at pictures of cats to amuse yourselves until I get back. It won’t be too long, I promise.


It was tough to keep myself busy, since my body wasn’t prepared to sleep right at that moment. Instead, my mind was turning over and over. Mostly, about nothing. But, there was a small aspect that worried I was going to be in trouble for missing school.

As soon as it was late enough, I phoned the school. Pretending to be my mom was easy; they hadn’t spoken to her in almost two years. I explained that Cassandra would be missing school due to an injury sustained at the school the day before.

Deep inside, I knew the next few days would be hell. And so I kept myself busy. It started out as innocently flipping through my textbooks, and ended up as me completing the entire syllabus for every subject.

However, that only took me to Thursday. What was I supposed to do until the next week? The bruising was almost gone, although my nose was still sore.

I gingerly touched it. It didn’t hurt as much. It would hurt for a while, but I could deal with that. I was in my largely unused living room, where I had stationed myself with my textbooks around me. My soft flannel pants felt nice against my skin, my dancing panda shirt completing the look.

A shadow moved across the window behind me; I only noticed it because it was reflected in the huge mirror on the wall in front of me. Scowling, I climbed off the large white sofa and headed to the back of the house. There were three people out there, and so I reached for a second faucet. What? I was just as prepared for rear defence as I was for a frontal attack. This water was hot pink.

The three figures moved about, eventually crouching down beside a large shrub. A large shrub that had grown over one of the sprinkler heads. My grin hurt my nose, but I didn’t care. There was much satisfaction in watching three almost grown men scream and run when they realised their clothing was turning a wonderful shade of Barbie pink.

Once they were gone, I walked to the front door. On my front lawn lounged the rest of the football team. Clearly, they had agreed to leave me alone. But apparently, that hadn’t included my house or lawn. The reservoir was clear, right now. Picking up three colours – orange, blue, green – I emptied the lot of them into the opening designed for water and grass treatment. The cap snicked shut, and I waited a few seconds. And then I twisted the faucet.

I was told much later that the screaming had been heard on the end of the block. As it turns out, the football team apparently has some sort of aversion to water. Like a cat.

At that moment, the entire group scattered. Barely thirty seconds had passed, and I was alone. The stream of water slowed down as I switched off the faucet. I had work to do.

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