After one of the most embarrassing experiences of her life, Viola Hawkins is left feeling hopeless and demoralised. So when she's told that she's able to work as an undercover agent in a boarding school, she's given a new chance to change her life...
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What I didn't expect the next morning was to be woken up by the sound of screaming.
Yes, screaming.
As it turns out, dad dressed up as a clown to play a prank on mum, but it didn't end well. She hit him with a saucepan, and currently he's lying on the sofa with two ice packs on his head.
Honestly, sometimes I feel like my parents are more immature than I am. Reading other people's texts, playing pranks on each other, singing crappy pop songs around the house.
"You have nobody but yourself to blame." Mum is saying to dad when I walk downstairs, scowling at the prospect of being woken up so early. "I was terrified for my life."
Dad groans. "Emily, it was a joke. You could tell it was me."
"I most certainly could not. I honestly thought it was someone trying to kill me."
Rolling my eyes at her, I jump onto the other sofa, resting my feet on a pile of cushions. "Mum, who would be in our house at six in the morning? Who would have tried to get in our house at six in the morning?"
"Well," She says, thinking about it with her arms crossed. A loose curly strand from her messy bun flies upwards as she sighs. "Okay, fine. Nobody. But it could have happened! And Owen, you of all people know how jumpy I am."
"Exactly. That's why I did it in the first place." Dad grumbles from underneath his pack of ice. When he lifts it off, a large red bump is clearly visible, looking extremely painful.
I wince. "You got it bad there."
"Please don't remind me."
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Surprisingly, the Peters are later than expected. Rather than turning up at nine, as mum initially said, they knock on our door at 10:30, looking both sheepish and stressed.
Mrs Peters throws us a worried look as we open the door. "I'm so sorry! We've just completely lost track of time, William wouldn't wake up and Lillie had a tantrum because we couldn't fit all of her footballs in the car."
"All of them?" Dad asks from behind me, still rubbing his bruised spot in pain.
Mrs Peters nods, her dark ponytail swinging with her movement. "Yes. All ten. What happened to you?"
