He Shoots, She scores

Chapter Nine: Gracie | Fighting Fire with Fire

            I'm outside on the patio, the favorite spot of this household, and sigh of relief when I see it's vacant. I dial Nessa who picks up after the fifth ring. "Yeah?" Her voice is groggy, like I just woke her up from a deep slumber, but the second I tell her about the party, she's wide awake.

"They threw a party without your permission? Man. That's messed up."

"I know! But on the plus side, I did meet a cute guy from it."

It seems I have her utmost full attention now. "Well tell me already!"

I relay the details of John to her. How I was planning on going to my room and pack up for good, because I was just so done with Weston and his antics, but then I saw him there. John. In the line for the bathroom. I struck up a conversation with him and before we knew it, we were exchanging numbers. He's cute and single. Looks like the universe is on my side after all.

"So, what now?" Nessa asks. "Are you still gonna live there?"

I think about my response. It's 7 am, a little later than I normally wake up. The sun is on a delayed rise this morning, but the streaks of pink and blue are magnetizing. I stare at the sky a moment longer. "Yes. Yes I am" I say slowly.

On the other line, Nessa snorts. I can hear a bag zipping and I just know she's putting on makeup. "So what are you going to do the next time Weston drives you bonkers?" There's the sound of a lipstick tube capping on.

"There's not going to be a next time." There's the sliver of sunshine peaking through the clouds. A beautiful day it is, indeed.

"Yeahhhh, Imma need you to elaborate."

"If I pack my bags now and leave, it means he wins! And what fun is that?"

"So what are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna fight fire with fire." I pick up a tiny pebble sitting on the porch railing and chuck it as far as I can. Humbly enough, it doesn't land very far. "He thinks he's so smart, well I got my own tricks up my sleeve."

"Tricks huh? What, are you going to draw a penis on his face when he's sleeping?" I ignore her giggles. She doesn't think I have the guts to even the playing field. But I have a plan. Who says I have to be the one to pack up and leave? So far, I've been a respectable roommate. I pay rent. I'm nice. I do my fair share of dishes. What more could you ask for?

If I do this right, then it'll be Weston who's saying Adios.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phase one of the plan involves conjuring a list of everything that I know Weston hates. So far, the top ones I have are animals, food that's saturated in fat, dishes left in the sink, muddy floors, and messes in general. That gives me a lot to work with. First, we start small.

A few days after the party (in which Weston and I don't interact aside from glaring at each other in silence) I wait for Weston to hop in the shower. Not in a creepy way. See, when he showers, that's the only time he ever leaves his room ajar. The second I hear the shower turn on, I dash into my room, grab Olive and place her on Weston's bed. I watch her sniff around with curiosity, hopping over to Weston's pillow. I feel awful for placing my wholesome pet somewhere that's not so wholesome, but revenge is made best with sacrifices.

I find a hiding spot in the corner of the hallway behind the fake fern so I can watch the magic unfold. Alas, the shower turns off and I hear Weston's footsteps approaching.

Weston's bed is nice and fluffy, and when rabbits are placed in unfamiliar places, in order to mark their territory, they will take a big old-

"PISS" I hear his voice echo. "What the fuck?! Who in the?- Jesus fucking christ- GRACIE! GET IN HERE!"

I skip inside innocently. The anger on his face is priceless. He's holding Olive close to his chest, and I have a little respect for the fact that he knows how to properly hold a bunny. "Did someone call me?"

Weston, standing there with damp hair and a towel around his waist, thrusts Olive into my arms, like she's a grenade that'll detonate any minute. "Your rabbit took a huge piss on my bed." Just like I anticipated, there's a massive yellow stain dead smacking center of his sheets. Bonus- there's even some scattered poo pellets here and there. Score!

I feign surprise. "Olive! Bad bunny! How'd you even get in here?"

He narrows his eyes. He's not buying my act one bit. "Cute. Don't play dumb with me."

"I'm not! I have no idea how she even got in here!"

"Bull. Shit."

"I didn't-"

"You're cleaning this up!"

I seethe through my teeth and give a sharp wince. "Ooo, I would, but I've got class. Sorry!" He's angrily calling my name as I walk out. Meanwhile, I'm kissing Olive on the forehead and murmuring 'Good bunny' in her ear. In return, she licks my face.