"THIS ISN′T YOUR smartest idea, Hayden.” The voice of my cousin echoes the expanse of the silent cafeteria hall and travels into the adjacent kitchen. I flip the flat pancake in the frying pan, stick the landing like the absolute pro I am and leave that side to cook over the hot element.
I turn around and shuffle over to the serving window with my hands attached to my hips.
"None of my ideas are smart, Spencer.” I reply to him and he spins slightly to glare at me through thick framed glasses. ”But they are fucking hilarious.
When he brushes me off, I walk through the doorway and out into the empty hall. The moon is full tonight and it’s pale light streaks in through the large glass panels that made up the north wall. It created an eerie glow over the emptiness.
I come to a slow halt next to Spencer and fold my arms. We both stare in silence at the recently added mural in front of us.
“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” I murmur to him before I take a bite out of the pancake that I was holding in my right hand. Spencer glances at me out the corner of his eye before sighing; heavily and with extreme disappointment. It′s not an uncommon sound for me to hear.
So my life is a constant spiral of disappointment. At least I acknowledge it.
“I can’t believe you’re eating pancakes in a time like this.” My cousin huffs and proceeds to rip the fluffy goodness from my grip. Aggressively, he takes a bite. He is obviously frustrated with my calmness and my total lack of giving-a-shit. He chews it bitterly as his sharp jawline clenches tightly.
“There is always a time for pancakes, cousin dearest.” I tell him, ignoring the fact that he had just rudely taken a chunk out of pancake with his fat mouth. It has definetly made the list of top ten anime betrayals. I step forward after swallowing yet another pancake at an abnormally fast rate and bend down to pick up a can of neon pink spray paint. I shook it, the sound echoes in the silent room and ricochets off the barren walls. “I think it needs more dicks.”
I step up onto the chair and pull the white cardboard construction mask over my mouth. I’m not stupid and I’m not going to die from toxic inhalation before witnessing my Principal’s reaction to my work of art. I press down on the can. The pink spray paint splatters on the white wall and I move my hand like an artist would with a paint brush.
"You need to make it at least proportional, Hay.” Spencer points out from behind me, ”Principal McKinley would never have a dick that big. Have you seen how tight his pants are?”
I screw my nose up in disgust and nod, ”Oh shit, you′re right—”
The cafeteria doors swing open and slam against the plaster walls. The sound was deafening and strong like thunder had just erupted in this very room. Slowly and sheepishly, I glance over my shoulder and watch in horror as my ten-grade chemistry teacher, Mr. Jacobs, stands over the threshold.
“What on God’s green earth do you two think you’re doing!” He roars with his untamed eyebrows creased in a deep frown. He points a stern yet rather chubby ringer at us and storms across the cafeteria. “Get down from there this instant Miss Jones!”
Spencer shrieks in the tune of a pterodactyl at my imperative and I hurl the can of spray paint away. My cousin massed out bags together with one powerful swoop of his arms and I leap from the chair. We both hightail it out of the back doors as fast as fucking possible.
It was cold and dark when we crash through the exit doors. Nevertheless we continue to sprint across the school campus like our asses were on fire. The sound of Mr Jacobs shouts and demands acted as a soundtrack to our race.
When Spencer′s silver Mercedes, the only car in the empty parking lot, was insight I begin to pump my legs rapidly.
“I thought you said the school was empty!” Spencer squawks as we dash towards his car.
“I thought it was!” I retort loudly, hearing the bottom of my worn converse hit the tarmac underneath. Mr Jacob’s shouts continued to reverberate into the night as he trailed us.
When we reach the car, I boldly attempt to slide over the hood like secret spies do in films. Keyword here; attempt. Subsequently, I roll off the slippery metal and land heavily on my ass.
Nevertheless the fear of getting caught and handed over to the police is greater than my humiliation so I jump to my feet instantly.
Spencer propels the bags into the back seat and I practically dive head first into the passenger seat. I slam the door shut behind me, lock it and buckle myself in. My heart beat was erratic behind the cage of my chest and so was my breathing.
Spencer is so close, so fucking close to turning on ignition and getting us the hell away from Brookhaven High school.
But suddenly, Mr. Jacobs appears out of nowhere like the demon spawn he is and slams both meaty palms onto the hood of the vehicle. The two of us inside jump in fright and screech loudly with Spencer doing a live re-enactment of The Scream painting.
“Mr Michaels and Miss Jones I suggest you get out of the car right this second!” Mr. Jacobs orders and I could see his face was beet-red even in the darkness of the night. I’m glad my adventures of this evening have benefited Mr. Jacobs by giving him his daily dose of fitness.
Spencer and I swivel out heads slowly and glance at each other.
“What? We can’t hear you?” I reply, my gaze levels back on the teacher as I incline forward in my seat and cup my ear, “The connection is just atrocious. I think we’re breaking up.”
“We’re talking, Hayden. I can see you.” Mr. Jacobs narrows his eyes behind the thin glasses perched upon his engorged nose. He seems completely done with my shit. But to be fair, he has been done with my shit since the first day when I walked into his classroom and spilt a tube of Pringles on the floor.
I pause. Then, “Huh?”
“Miss Jones if you do not get out of the car—!”
And in that very second, it is like a show of fireworks explodes behind Mr. Jacobs. The midnight sky turns all shades of reds and oranges. Mr Jacobs propels himself onto Spencer’s car as the two of us flinch inside the interior at the booming sound. What was once the cafeteria of Holden Bay High School is now a gargantuan ball of fire. Spencer passes me yet another fleeting glance as I do the same to him. We are both thinking the same thing, no words are needed.
We are fucked.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I ended up in the back of a cramped cop car with an extremely uncomfortable and lumpy leather bench seat. The handcuffs are too tight and it smelled like Cheetos and feet back here. I was conversing, one-sidedly that is, with one Officers Roberts about the beginning of the universe because I would take anything over stressing about the amount of shit I’m going to be in when my mother realises her only child is currently being arrested.