Mischievous

Chapter One

        ". . . And this was the blanket my parents found me in," I said, holding up an emerald green fabric to my classmates.

        Their faces were blank with confusion. I wish something would get through their thick heads. The only thing that helps me get through each school day is their absolute stupidity.

        "Thank you, Winter," my teacher mumbled. "Have a seat now."

        I flipped my long raven black hair, "Of course, darling."

        My name is Winter Solstice Edwards, why exactly? Because my 'parents', as I'm forced to call them, are very creative people. What should we name this child that randomly has appeared outside our door? Well, honey, what day is it? Humpday? I thought it was Friday. No, the winter solstice. That's probably the dumb kind of conversation they had, knowing them.

        I'm a little ahead of the other students in my grade. My doctor says I'm a seven-year-old with a fifteen-year-old's brain and attitude. I've been offered, begged even to skip ahead to let the students in my class have a chance, and I've voiced my opinion on the matter quite strongly. It's much more fun to mock the fools than to let them all have to see me go. I excel, and they fail, quite enjoyable.

        I live in an apartment in East Harlem and go to River East Elementary. This is my second year at this school, and I still hate it, but today is the day for one of my biggest pranks. I try to do one every month; it keeps my hopes up that one day something exciting might happen. The administration's been dying to catch me in the act since first grade, but they're understaffed, low on funds, they can't stop me. Plus, I have a secret weapon.

        Back when I was three, my parents were worried I was severely anti-social, and so they bought me one of those big stuffed teddy bears in an attempt to get me to talk to someone else, even if it couldn't answer me. I think I ended up cutting its head off, but I did find a person to talk to, myself. At first, we just talked through the mirrors, but soon enough I was able to create a ghost-like entity who looked just like me. In all honesty, she is me, well a part of me.

        Summer S. Edwards is the physical embodiment of all the good things in my head when I let her out, I change a little. I've never noticed, but she claims I become a tad bit more violent, and tactical, and well evil. Nothing bad's ever happened, but boy were my parents surprised when they came into my room to see me sitting across from myself having a chat — same hair, eyes, entirely identical, like twins.

        She's my partner in crime. While I go off to wreak havoc across the school, she stays in my place pretending to be me. Sounds perfect, it just took her a couple of times until she realized that people would be calling my name and not her's. It was a little suspicious at first, but she soon caught on after I yelled at her for messing up. You see, it's her goal to please me, for, in order for her to be happy, I must be happy.

        But Winter, wouldn't someone notice that oh I don't know, she can't hold a pencil and such if she's like a ghost? I'll give it to you, you may have a brain, but so do I, and it didn't take long for me to find a way around this issue. After a lot of practice, I learned how to channel energy into her. That's probably the simplest way to put it. If I concentrate a little, she becomes solid and can do those sort of things. Yeah, it's cool.

        Today, I'm going to be egging the teacher's lounge. Some may find it boring, or repetitive, but there aren't many things I can get my hands on without people questioning. It's become common knowledge that I can't be trusted, with anything. Folks look for secret meanings behind my words, as though I'm gonna lie to them all the time. I don't, I only do it now and then.