Chapter 1 | Self Control
I stood in the street watching with my family as fire brigades and police cars parked outside our neighbors house. Keara was screaming with rage, her parents by her side with their usual sour expressions.
I stood with a smirk on my face. Payback is a bitch.
The week before, my friend and I had an English essay due. We were in the library trying to get our essay done. The essay was for the freakiest teacher in the school and she looked capable of killing us.
Or just giving us weeks of detention for the following year.
But, of course, after I had publicly humiliated Keara during lunch the day before, she wanted revenge. I couldn’t stress how much it wasn’t my fault. How was I to blame for the fact that she thought she owned the school, and instead of moving out-of-the-way when I was walking past, she pushed into me, spilling my drink over her t-shirt and revealing her red bra.
It was her fault for being an ignorant human being.
But she didn’t think so. She decided that instead of facing her stupidity, she would go and get her boyfriend (my ex-best friend) to turn on the fire sprinkler system in the library. Our essays were ruined, the library was closed and we got in serious dog poop the next day.
So yes. I was extremely proud of my revenge, I just didn’t think it would get as out of control. It was only a small bit of smoke. Two fire engines and three police cars was just the Cinder’s being over dramatic as usual.
I watched as a fireman emerged from the house, holding the remains of a burned Coca Cola bottle, a candle and a bucket of ashes. It was all quite simple actually.
Before Keara got home from her after school cheerleading practice, I climbed up the railings and sneaked through her open window, and yes. She leaves the window of her luxury room, that probably has millions worth of items in it, open. I brought the bucket of ashes from my fireplace, a candle and a Coca Cola bottle which was full of ping-pong balls and covered in damp newspaper, into her room. I learned a long time ago that fire doesn’t burn on a pile of ashes. So I sat the small candle on top of the ashes, and lay the plastic bottle over it.
The candle burned the plastic, but all it ended up doing was billowing smoke. It wasn’t going to put the place on fire.
I’m seriously not that reckless.
I also knew that Keara was out and that people would have noticed the smoke in her room before she got home. So no one would get injured or have smoke inhalation.
Do I get an A+ for consideration?
A group of newsagents had surrounded Keara and photographers were taking pictures of the house and the evidence. Once Keara saw the bottle she figured out away what had happened straight away. Her face scrunched up in disgust. “It was Riley!” She screamed to the news agents. “May Riley did this to me!”
My parents turned around and glared at me. Why didn’t they even consider that Keara could be lying?
“How could you do this Esmé?” My Mother hissed at me, using my full name, instead of the usual nickname. “Keara’s your friend!” She was visibly shaking with anger. I snorted at this. The disadvantage of having rich parents is that they always presume you’re best-friends with anyone else who is rich. Even if they’respoiled and a bitch.
“This is not a laughing matter Esmé. We are going to have to try to clear this up with the press and everything! How could you be so reckless?” My father snapped.
A group of photographers began to make their way over to me and take pictures. I shrugged. “It wasn’t that reckless, I had planned it perfectly.”
I watched as my father’s face goes from white to a brick-red. It was quite fascinating, like a cartoon character.
“Robert,” My mother whispered. “we have to get her away from the press.”
My father pursed his lips. “We’ll send her away for the weekend, until all this calms down.” He watched me carefully. “It’s about time she learns some self-control.”