Pranking The Prankster

Chapter 4

Song
I Can't Believe — CYN

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I wake up the next morning feeling worn out and completely exhausted. I slip into my fuzzy slippers and trudge downstairs to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Brad is in the kitchen, texting on his phone and making pancakes at the same time. I lean in the doorway, watching in amusement as his unoccupied hand finds the handle of the pan and flips a pancake in the air. It lands on the ceiling, sticky side up. For God's sake, how could anyone mess up pancakes?

"You know, if everyone made pancakes like that, I'm pretty sure it'd be illegal," I comment. Brad glances at me and rolls his eyes. The pancake suddenly detaches from the ceiling and plummets, landing on Brad's face with a soft plop. Brad yelps in surprise and I crack up laughing.

I make my way over to him and bump him out of the way with my hip. "Budge up," I say, "Let me show you how its done."

He gratefully steps back and watches me. "So, how was Carly's?" I ask. "I hope she was worth all the trouble I went through."

Brad snorts. "Nah, she was pretty boring. We didn't even get to second base!"

"What a pity," I say drily.

"I know, right?" Brad says, completely oblivious. "Anyway, where's Mom?"

"Out with Tony. Turns out he's here to stay."

"Awesome."

I pause. "What do you mean, 'awesome'? You're supposed to dislike him."

"No, I'm not," Brad sighs. "Tony's really cool, Anna, and he's perfect for Julie. Just give him a chance."

"No. I don't want him replacing Dad."

"Anna, he's not —"

We both shut up quickly when Charlie toddles into the room, yawning. Brad gives me a this–isn't–over look and turns back to the pancakes.

After we're done breakfasting, Brad takes Charlie upstairs to give him a bath. After I dress in a long-sleeved tee and jeans, then slick on sparkly neutral lip gloss.

We head out of the house after I lock up, then hurry to school. It rained yesterday, and there are puddles everywhere. I practically have to tiptoe to avoid getting mud on my new sneakers. Charlie, on the other hand, is ecstatic. He splashes into puddles like a frisky little bunny, his sou'wester hat slipping low over his face so he can't even see where he's going.

After we drop him off at his school, Brad and I walk to the local highschool in silence. He waves when we part ways, already distracted by a busty blonde that sashays past him. Typical.

As I head to my locker and grab my books, Josh Miller finally makes his grand entrance, as outrageously sexy as ever his signature black leather jacket, a black cashmere turtleneck and stonewashed jeans. "Hey, ladies, see you at the big game," He calls to a group of girls. The giggle flirtatiously, shamelessly checking him out.

Today after school there's a big football game coming off. Did I ever mention that Josh plays football for our school? Well, he's the quarterback, and he's so good that everyone thinks he'll go pro one day.