The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pranks

Chapter 1 - Genevieve

As I sit with my blush brush held up to my cheek in one hand, I frown at what Ivy is saying. As always, she is the rational one, but I happen to agree with Harlow, my other sister. This has gone on long enough, and something needs to be done about Jeremy.

The nerve of that egotistical bastard. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be sitting here trying to use makeup I had little interest in and thinking about what could be done about the cocky male. Just because his father runs this town doesn't give him the right to be an absolute asshole.

I grumble a little, agreeing with Low's vehement diatribe that Jeremy is going to get what's coming to him, even if we have to take drastic measures.

"...I say we take a baseball bat to his precious Mercedes and let the blows fall where they may," Harlow says as she beats a fist against the top of my dresser, making the contents tremble and a stuffed beanie baby to fall over onto its side. She looks quite pleased with herself, though I'm not certain if Ivy will care to listen for much longer. Usually, she lets Low have her say for a bit and then cuts her off to give her version of "sound advice". I am not surprised when I hear Ivy take a deep sigh, which makes me certain she is winding up for a long-winded speech.

I immediately tune out as I know how it's going to go. The same motherly advice she would give Low all the time when she has a new, more-involved harebrained scheme. Thinking back to the start of the whole situation, though, I can't help but think, this is worth it.

And since we are identical triplets, the idea Harlow places before us is almost certain to work.

Ivy is the responsible one--the one that takes little to no chances. Harlow is mischievous and sneaky. Although the oldest, I sort of fit somewhere in the middle. I don't look for trouble, but I don't sidestep it when it comes my way either.

Enter Jeremy Sinclair, the mayor's son and basketball star at our high school. The boy thinks he's King Shit of Turd Hill, and his loyal subjects must listen and bow down to his every whim.

Sickening. Honestly, the longer I think about it, the more I come down on Harlow's side with her meanderings on grave injustice and letting the chips fall where they may.

And at least it would be entertaining to watch.

Always the flightier one of the bunch, I let Low ramble on as my mind wanders, thinking about how life was so different, so much stabler for humans hundreds of years ago. That was when no one knew about supernaturals and we thought humans were the most dangerous beings on the planet. Next we'll be invaded by aliens, I suppose, or maybe the zombie apocalypse will happen like people have been predicting for centuries.

A little less than two hundred years ago, a video came out on the internet. At first, people thought it was all a joke, albeit an elaborate, very convincing one. It showed a man shifting into a wolf-type creature on two legs, and the beast appeared to almost rip off the head of a man who had been arguing with him, blood splashing everywhere.

It was an internet sensation, the media latching onto it first, and even the president at the time took interest and had it analyzed by experts from all around the world. The consensus was the same everywhere: it wasn't fake, and things beyond our limited comprehension truly did exist.

After that, the different supernaturals came out of the woodwork and admitted that, yes, they did indeed exist, but assured the humans they meant us no harm. It was like aliens had beamed themselves down and had thrown down the gauntlet. People were scared, and war between humans and the supernaturals--whom many call supes--rained down on all the world. It was brief but bloody, and in the end, the supes won. They allied themselves together, and with the likes of the fae and witches, who could have predicted anything other than a supernatural world where humans were now the lower-ranked intelligent species?