The Secret Life of the Bad Girl

Chapter 13

"Would you like more tea?" Maggie asks. I'm currently spending my Saturday afternoon playing tea party with Maggie and her collection of American Girl dolls. Her playroom is setup to look like a house with a kitchen, table and chairs, a small couch, several beds for her dolls, and a wardrobe for her dolls clothes and her dress up clothes.

"I would love more tea." I reply using a fake British accent. She pours more tea in my cup from her tiny kettle and I add a little bit of sugar.

"So, Rebecca," she says to her doll. "Are you recovering well from your trip to the hospital?"

I stifle a laugh as she holds a conversation with her doll. "She seems to be making a wonderful recovery." I chime in. "Her cosmetic surgery went splendidly. She doesn't even have a scar!" I exclaim sarcastically. 

Maggie glares at me. "It wasn't cosmetic surgery! It was an operation on a cancerous spot!" She tells me.

"Oh. I'm terribly sorry for the mistake." Having a mother as a doctor makes for interesting conversations. Most six-year-olds can barely pronounce the word cancer, much less make up a convincing tale of how their doll is fighting it.

"Apologize to Rebecca." She says sternly.

"I'm very sorry for the misunderstanding, Rebecca. Please except my apology." I say to her doll, trying my best to keep a straight face. "You know, my mother is a cancer specialist. I'm sure she could help you out."

Laughter comes from the doorway and I turn to see Logan laughing his butt off. I glare at him. Maggie jumps up and runs to him.

"Logan! Join my tea party! Please!!" She begs pouting her lips.

"Oh heck no!" Logan exclaims, his eyes widening as he backs away. "There is no way I'm playing with your freaky, little family of dolls."

"Pleeeeaaassssee!!" She begs.

"No!" He runs off down the hall and Maggie chases him. I take this time to make me own escape. I sigh in relief as I enter my room.

I lock the door and walk over to my computer to check my email. I see one from thomasgreen88@gmail. I click on it to find that it's the paper we were supposed to write together. Apparently he decided to do it by himself. I read through it and it's actually really good. I correct some slight grammar mistakes, double check his sources, and use an app to scan for plagiarism. Everything checks out. I print it and get it ready for school Monday before replying to the email.

To: thomasgreen88@gmail.com

Subject: re-school paper

Nice job on the paper. I only had to fix a few minor mistakes. Everything's ready for school Monday.

I hit send and exit off of my email. I go on my blog to read and respond to the comments. One in particular catches my eye. It's from a user named That Nerd.

I think I know who you are, Bad Girl.

It surprises me. I don't think they actually know who I am but they just might. Anyone on here can see that I live in Kentworth, Alabama. I quickly type a response:

Who are you?

I wait for a while, but no one replies. Finally, I get hungry and go downstairs to get something to eat. On the way I pass by Maggie's playroom and catch sight of Logan playing tea party. I have to stifle a laugh as I watch him reluctantly chat with the dolls and drink tea out of dainty, little glasses. I scurry away to the kitchen before they see me standing there.

I open the fridge when I reach the kitchen and stare at it. Nothing looks appetizing to me at the moment. I groan in frustration and move to look in the pantry. I snag a back of chips and a bottle of water. I trudge back to my from and flop down on the bed.

***

Later that evening me, Logan, and Maggie were lounging on the couches in the living room watching Frozen. Usually me and Logan go out on Saturday nights, but since we're grounded, we are laying around in sweatpants watching cartoons with a six-year-old. I sigh and check my blog for the millionth time to see if I had a response. Still nothing. However, I do notice an email from Thomas. It says:

I wasn't asking for your approval. I knew the paper was good when I sent it. Maybe you'll take some advice from an expert and actually do your part next time.

That jerk! I tried to arrange times to meet with him but he was always to busy! I threw my phone down on the couch. I am fuming mad right now. An idea hits me and my lips curl into a devious smile. Just you wait mr. Thomas. I'll show you.

I head upstairs to pick out my outfit for Monday. I stare at my closet for a while before settling on black, high waisted, skinny jeans, a tight, pink tanktop, and a sheer, cream colored cardigan. After that I update my blog:

The Secret Life Blog
Updated 9:15

Dear boys,

On behalf of women kind, please stop ticking us off. If, however, you make the mistake of crossing a female, then be prepared for the storm. As for Mr. Know-It-All, get ready. Revenge begins on Monday. By the time I'm done with you, you will be begging for mercy.

Prepping for revenge,
The Bad Girl

P.S. For you curious folks, step one in the revenge plot is: bait the hook.

That's what I would do. I would be tantalizing. Besides, men aren't much higher than animals so my fishing analogy should work splendidly. Thomas will never know what hit him.

I smile evilly and post the new update. A few minutes later I get a new comment from That Nerd. It says:

Lovely letter, Bad Girl. I hope I'm not the one you are getting your revenge on. But if I am, then may the odds be ever in your favor.

I stare at the comment in shock. Not only did he quote one of my favorite books, but I'm pretty sure that was a threat. I mean, I'm not certain, but it sounds like a threat.

"Let the games begin." I whisper.