Surviving the McLane Boys - New and Improved

8: Food Fight!

Chapter 8

Food fight!

It’s Saturday morning. 6 am. I twist in my sheets, my bed suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and hard. I can’t get back to sleep.  Keeping my eyes shut I think about the last couple of days and how much I want to go home. Turns out it’s not as easy as walking out the front door and jumping the fence though.

For the rest of the week I woke up early and went through my usual routine –focused on ignoring the McLane boys. Ok, just Dylan, Jake and Wes. Everyone else is innocent and still has no idea what my bra size is.

After telling Mitch and Maddy what had gone down at 127 Granger street I’d followed the elaborate plan they’d decked up for me, waking up early, walking to and from school, filling my days up with things to do that would just pass the time till I was allowed to go back to my own house and live in peace. Semi-peace at the very least. Jake and Wes didn’t bother me at school either since Maddy had had a thing or two to them when they’d tried to approach me and they eventually got the message.

On the other side of the my crazy school-life, the rumor mill had died down as Mitch had predicted but I was still harassed for my plastic surgeons phone number and asked if I’d gotten a butt reduction from the more assertive of the freshmen. Lucy had refrained from threatening me to stay away from Jake since I’d started avoiding him anyway, but if looks could kill… I would have gone through something equivalent to being shot, cut up into tiny pieces, put in a blender and then thrown in acid.

I cover my head with my pillow as I hesitantly trace the indents under my eyes which I’m sure are now the same shade as burnt steak. I haven’t been able to sleep properly since I’m always worrying about those pictures. What if they start surfacing on the internet? What if Dylan’s selling them off after doing a major Photoshop job? What if it starts circulating around school? What if it happens again?

I can’t even talk to their mom about it. I wouldn’t want to wish the ‘Wrath of Claire’ on them and, well anyone else for that matter. But if this situation gets out of hand she’ll definitely be the first person I’ll be going to. Before that though, how the heck am I going to get rid of the photos?

“Hailey?” someone whispers.

“Mmmmm?”

 It’s Seth.

“You’re sleeping in front of the stairs.”

I bolt uprights, pulling the sheets around me.

“Oh no.” I groan.

Hello sleep-walking-itis, haven’t seen you in a while.

Seth chuckles, “I nearly stepped on you. What are you doing here?”