Out To Get Her

4| Not Like That, You Egg

"ARE WE REALLY going through with this?" Dylan whispers, "If this isn't a declaration of war, I don't know what is."

"Of course we're going through with it," Alex murmurs back, expertly brushing the paintbrush over the dark gaps on Riley's lock, "And there's no need to whisper, there's literally no one here."

"It adds to the effect," he waves a hand dismissively, "We are so going to be murdered."

Alex rolls her eyes and adjusts her stance, "We are not going to be murdered."

"Riley and his friends are going to kill us."

"Snap out of it, you melodramatic buffoon!" She thwacks him upside the head with her free hand, "This is only fair, since he pranked me. This makes us even."

"I'm not sure that's how he's going to see it..."

"If he doesn't see it that way, I'll set up an IQ test for him."

"Ooh, she really went there."

Alex chuckles, handing Dylan the paintbrush, and carefully screwing shut the jar of dye.

"Okay, let's go act casual."

"And hide the evidence," Dylan adds.

"That too."

Sharing knowing smiles, the pair returns to Dylan's locker down the hall, since Alex's is the more obvious place for the proof of their tampering to be hidden. Dylan opens the door and Alex slips the dye and paintbrush in the back, behind spare stationary.

"Those could totally pass as mediums for an art project," Dylan smirks at her.

"Methinks it is still glaringly obvious," Alex chuckles, "But I suppose that makes it slightly less glaringly obvious."

"Sure does," Dylan grins, as they return to Alex's locker, which isn't too far down the hall from Riley's, and keeps his in sight.

"We have so much time to kill," Alex murmurs, glancing down at her watch, "We got here so early."

"It'll be worth it, hopefully," Dylan chuckles.

"Hopefully."

"There he is," Dylan grabs Alex's attention forty minutes later, pointing with subtlety down the hall behind her.

She turns her head to the side, pony tail mashed against the locker she leans on, and eyes the tall, smartly dressed boy as he approaches his locker, and walks right past.

"Shoot," Alex mutters under her breath, "Why didn't we think of this as a possibility?"

Dylan shrugs, "We go to our lockers every morning, maybe he just doesn't."

"Or maybe we got the wrong locker."

"No, there's no way."

Alex nods towards Riley as he yanks open a locker door on the opposite side of the hall, "We definitely got the wrong locker."

"Shoot, shoot, shoot."

"Shoot indeed."

"Who's locker did we get, then? And how the hell did we manage to mess that up so royally?"

Dylan shrugs, smiling sheepishly.

Alex narrows her eyes, "You weren't as sure about the locker placement as you made out to be, were you?"

"I was a solid seventy percent sure."

"Seventy isn't good enough, you egg! You should have been at least eighty-five, ninety as a minimum."