Chapter 32: Stupidity or bravery, who can say.
Our childhood prank wars had been wonderful. I was the benevolent giant, allowing the clever ant to think she'd won not the other way around. ' she's never found me out before...'
A petty, hopeful thought flickered. 'I'm probably just over thinking it, with the way I suddenly closed the door, maybe that's what got her curious.' I tried to console myself. But looking at her cold, assessing face, I knew there was still something she wanted to say but hadn't.
"…Creep."Her response was a single, drawn-out word, dripping with contempt
"Excuse me?" I retorted, the insult landing with a sting I hadn't expected. It was so blunt and dismissive that it stripped away any pretense of our shared history, reducing me to a generic, unwelcome male presence.
Before I could muster a more coherent defense, She pushed off from the island and began walking toward me. Not with the predatory intent of earlier, but with a natural, unhurried stride.
' What's she trying to do now?' My body reacted before my mind, a flush of instinctive alarm making me take an unconscious step back, my shoulder brushing the door.
But she didn't stop in front of me. She paused, just for a heartbeat, her dark eyes flicking from my face to the box I was now clutching to my chest like a shield. Then, with that unnerving grace, she walked right past me. Her shoulder didn't brush mine; she didn't even seem to register me as an obstacle. She went straight for the door I was leaning against.
Reaching past me, her cool fingers wrapped around the door handle. She pulled it open, the outside hallway air sighing into the apartment.
"If my mother asks," she said, her voice devoid of any warmth, her gaze fixed on some point in the empty corridor, "tell her I went out." She took a half-step over the threshold.
Then she turned her head, just enough to look at me over her shoulder.
"And don't even think about snooping around in my room…" She let the pause hang, heavy with implication. "…nasty pervert."The cold grin she'd worn in the hallway was gone, replaced by an expression of pure, icy disdain.
The final word struck me like a soft, venomous dart. But before I could retort, she was gone, pulling the door shut behind her with a force that was just shy of a slam. It was a basically an obvious act of pure dismissal.
I stood there, frozen, the box in my hands. I swore I could feel my own eyelids twitching with the force of my irritation. The brazenness of it! The absolute, unshakeable confidence that she could insult me, threaten me, and walk out, leaving me fuming in her wake.
But as the echo of the door faded, a new realization dawned, cutting through the anger. She was gone. She'd left. And she'd… left her room unguarded.
The prank box felt suddenly lighter, making me feel a sudden excitement.
"Act out all you want," I said to the closed door, my voice low and firm. A slow, determined smile spread across my face as I looked down at the cardboard package. "After this little surprise… we'll see who's laughing then." A quiet, anticipatory chuckle escaped me. The game was back on. And for the first time, I felt like I might have the upper hand, however temporary and silly it was.
I carried my prize to the couch, setting it down on the expensive glass coffee table with a soft thump. The TV droned on, which I obviously ignored. With careful, almost ritualistic movements, I opened the cardboard flaps.
Inside, nestled in biodegradable packing bubble wrap, were my tools. a sleek, plastic container of powdered peanut butter and a brand-new, empty spray bottle with an adjustable nozzle.
A wave of triumphant glee washed over me. 'Hehehehe…' The sound was a silent, manic giggle in my mind. 'Ophelia's always been deathly allergic to peanuts. One whiff and she'd break out in hives, not to mention that her eyes would swell shut.'
' Whenever that happened she'd always call it a living nightmare, I wonder how she'd react if it happened now. '
I couldn't help recalling one instant where such an incident occured. On one of her birthday party's, when she was six,
She'd chanced upon a mislabeled cookie, only for all of us to frantically rush her to the hospital, I could even remember Sarah's tear-streaked face. It had been terrifying.
But I wasn't dumb enough to put her life at risk over a simple prank, with powdered peanut butter, when mixed with water… it was perfect. The proteins that triggered the allergy would be airborne in a fine mist. Not enough to cause anaphylaxis, but more than enough to be deeply, profoundly irritating.
A few strategic sprays on her bedsheets, her favorite jacket thrown over her desk chair, the inside of her favorite beanie… She'd be itchy, miserable, and utterly confused. And I'd be the only one who knew why.
'All I gotta do is mix the powdered peanut butter with water, apply it on her stuff using this spray bottle, and she'll be crying while breaking out in rashes all over!' The plan was diabolically simple. I began laughing, a soft, helpless sound that shook my shoulders as I imagined her scowling at a mysterious, itchy rash. The laughter felt good, there was no way I couldn't help but laugh.
Deciding to seize the opportunity her departure had so graciously provided, I got to work without a second thought.
I carried my equipment to the pristine kitchen island. The sunlight glinted off the marble. I felt like a mad scientist in a minimalist lab.
I got a measuring cup from a cupboard and filled it with cold water from the tap. The sound was loud in the quiet apartment. I unscrewed the lid of the powdered peanut butter container. The smell that wafted out was nutty and sweet, a bizarrely innocent scent for my nefarious purpose.