Chapter 7 Chicken Little

"How's Plan PTSBINTEB going?"

"What's Plan P-T-S-D something?"

I sighed at Babushka, shaking my head at her confusion. "Plan Putting The Stink Bombs In The Enemy's Bags, silly. Not PTSD. This isn't war. At least, I hope not. Because you know, war means unnecessary pain and death inflicted on soldiers who are fighting on behalf of higher powers who couldn't be bothered to use their brains for better. In fact--."

"Gotcha," she said interrupting me.

All day long, the pro Shakespeare club had been sneaking the egg roses in the backpacks of the opposite party. Every time a classroom began to stink up, an egg rose would pop up from someone's bag, bringing forth much embarrassment to the person whom the bookbag belonged to. Believe me, it was much funnier than passing out single roses.

Babushka and I were sitting next to each other at the cafeteria table, waiting for the guys to return with their lunch trays.

I prodded my food with a fork, discovering the mystery meat to be more than just a raw mystery. It looked nothing close to anything I had ever eaten in the meat department. Trust me, I have attempted things like a snake's heart.

"Are you trying to dissect the food?" Babushka asked me. Michael, Toby, and Viktor chose that moment to enter the scene and start settling in their seats--across from Babushka and I.

I gave Toby a sideways glance, not knowing whether or not I should ignore him or not. Mom wasn't exactly thrilled yesterday and even though I hated having her concerned, she needed to realize Toby had no clue about my affiliations. It was better to not get him suspicious by avoiding him like he was some evil clown or the son of the previous president.

I decided to proceed making commentaries about my food.

"I honestly believe," I said moving around the square glob, "mouth to mouth resuscitation will resurrect this . . . chicken, pork, lamb, or whatever meat it is."

"Believe me, the chicken would rather die than be revived by you," Toby said, stuffing his mouth with a piece of the mystery meat.

So it is a chicken.

"I beg to disagree," I said. "I think the chicken would love me. It'd be like my baby! We'd go around the neighborhood, spreading joy and positivity. I could dress it up in little sweaters like people do with their poodles, but instead of putting my baby on a leash or in my purse, I'd let it be free. In fact, I'd adopt it and name it . . ."

"Okay," Toby said sounding exasperated. "Why don't you just eat Chicken Little and save everyone the trouble? Better yet, I can eat it if you don't want to." He reached his fork towards my chicken and I smacked his hand my own plastic fork.

"Don't touch my baby," I said giving him a strict look. "Don't even think about eating him . . . or her." I immediately slapped my forehead with my palm. "Ya allah! I don't even know the gender of it."

How was I supposed to name it?

My friends laughed at my realization. Actually, Toby simply rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. For a few odd seconds, I saw him watch me from a sideways glance. Catching him, I wiggled my eyebrows questioningly.

He sighed and turned away.

I wondered what that was about.

He didn't know about my identity, right?

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"I still have two dozen egg roses left in my car trunk. And I have the perfect plan for where they should go." Babuska gave a mischievous smile.

"The trash?" I hoped. We were sitting on the top of her car in the student parking lot, waiting for Michael and Miley. Those two were my rides home.

"No way. The soccer team helped our enemies, and I believe they should pay for their sins," Babushka said smugly.

"Is it necessary? Can't we throw away the rest of them? My hands still stink," I confessed. Holding up my hands, I deliberately smelled them in front of her. "I feel overworked and underpaid."

"Exactly! That's the payment!"

"How so?"

"The soccer game's tonight, my dear." She advanced to spill over the rest of her plan. While it wasn't lethal, it'd still give the soccer boys an interesting reputation.

"Oh you're evil," I said smirking once she was finished.

Michael showed up just on time with Miley following in a frustrated expression. She had an infamous reputation of being rude to people and riding solo which I came to hear about today. Her brother was the opposite with a jovial smile hanging on his face most of the time. He was kind to everybody with a little bit of boyish charm. They were twins but nothing about them was similar.

"What's wrong with Ms. Grumpypants today?" I nudged Michael.

He pressed his lips, trying not to smile. "Someone on the soccer team asked her out and she punched him."

Babushka and I stared at Miley in pure astonishment. She shot back a death glare which didn't unnerve me.

"That douchebag asked me out on a dare! All he wants is to get in my pants," Miley said disgusted.

"Just let me know if I need to step in," said Michael in the most brotherly way I had ever seen.

I turned to Babushka and whispered my thoughts in her ear. She glanced over my cousin with uncertainty but then gave me a nod.

"Miley, I think we need a girls day out!" I said rushing to her side and grasping her arm. She attempted to shrug me off but in vain. "Michael, Babushka is gonna give us a ride home, so don't worry about us, okay? We'll try not to die or get tattoos, yet."

He gave me a thumbs up. "Do what you gotta do. I have a soccer game to prepare for."

As he left, Babushka and I gave each other a high five.

It took roughly ten minutes to convince Miley to help us with our plan. Although hesitant at first, she became more inclined to help when we gave in to shoving egg roses in the bags of the cheerleaders.

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The level of excitement I had for this prank had me on my toes. With vibrating nerves and rushing blood, I was nothing less than a tsunami ready to bring forth destruction to the hot males of this public school.

Miley had gone to the girls' locker room to mess with the cheerleaders' belongings. Meanwhile, Babushka and I attacked the grizzly bears--or rather the guys' locker room. One thing was for sure. As they showed in movies and books, the locker room was beyond unsanitary. It stunk.

"I'm having some serious second thoughts on this," I whispered to Babushka.

She wrinkled her nose in understanding.

We had taken the back entrance of the locker rooms and were now hiding in one of the smaller shower rooms. Faint whispers and laughing was audible as the last of the boys cleared out. The coach had called the crew out for a pre-game session. My friend and I had the green light.

We stuck the egg roses in open bags and open lockers. The guys weren't highly concerned about privacy for sure. In my excitement, I ran towards the lockers on the total opposite side of the showers, closer to an area where I could get caught. I didn't care. I enjoyed this. I loved the thrill and excitement of doing something rebellious.

As I shoved in the last rose and turned to meet up with Babushka, a guy jammed right into me. He had been looking over his shoulder and shouting something behind me.

Unfortunately, he didn't anticipate a female in his path and I, being so fabulously klutzy, stood motionless until he had us both pushed into the lockers behind.

"Ow!" I cried as the back of my head hit a lock.

"Sh-shit! Sorry. A-are you o-okay?"

"Gosh Liam, this is not the right way of displaying your love for me," I said.

Rubbing the back of my head, I stepped out of his face, thankful it had just been the lean built stutterer not some hefty jock.

Grinning pleasantly, he moved, looping his arm around me as if in an embrace except his placed his hand on the lockers behind me. I was once again facing him with less than a foot of space behind us and him cornering me.

He leaned forward and said, "Can I-I d-display it n-ow?" I jabbed my finger on his stomach, and he retreated with an "ow." That's what he got for not wearing a shirt and for cornering me.

I stuck my tongue out at him. 

Babushka, who had been hiding this entire time, came out to usher me to move. Liam frowned at the both of us. We had forgotten to let him on the plan. When my friend and I explained what we were doing here, he exhaled loudly.

"Y-you guys hav-have to leave s-s-soon. The meet-meeting's almost over."

"Why can't we stay and enjoy the sight of hot, half naked guys?" I whined.

Liam smirked, and before he could make a comment, Babushka grasped my arm. Loud footsteps were approaching and we had to flee. Liam waved me a goodbye and I mirrored his action even winking at him. It was fun to see someone smile because of you.

"You should seriously stop flirting with Liam," Babushka said once we approached the back door of the locker rooms.

"Why? Are you jealous because I'm giving him my attention?" I wiggled my eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes. "You don't understand, Noor. He's been hurt constantly by plenty of girls. I don't want to see my best friend getting heartbroken by someone as nice as you."

"Heartbroken? Dear me, I'll propose him to marry me rather than breaking his heart! I promise you." I vowed.

"Careful what you say."

We quietly stepped out from the doorway and realized we were face to face with the entire cheerleading team in the small hallway.

Apparently, they were conducting their own pre-game meeting.

Oh flibbertigibbet. 

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