T w o : Mocha Me Crazy

"Do you happen to know anything about Chase Thatcher?" I ask my sister casually.

My legs are crossed neatly on the upholstered chair facing her desk, my back is straight, and my expression is hopeful. Chloe looks up from her paperwork and frowns.

"Why do you ask?"

Frowning has always looked very odd on my sister. Mom used to say that Chloe's face was made for smiling, and I think that she lived by that. Watching her frown is unfamiliar and bordering upon unnatural. She's far too pretty. Mom also said that my face was made for moaning, but I never really saw the logic behind that theory.

"I'm just curious," I say, slumping back into the chair dramatically and squinting at Chloe's sunshine features. Unlike my chestnut brown hair, Chloe has the endearing combination of Mom's frizzy blonde curls and brown eyes. She works as our school guidance counsellor and I hear a near-constant commentary from the boys in my year about how hot she is. "So, do you know anything?"

"I'm not allowed to discuss anything like that with you."

Chloe's purple biro dances across the paper in front of her. Her hair is milkmaid braided today and pinned down neatly with daisy clips. My hair hangs itself pin straight on my head, with emphasis on hangs itself.

"It's not like I'd tell anyone," I whine, kicking the base of Chloe's desk with my trainers. My frustration wobbles the potted succulent sitting on the edge of her desk, and a couple of her coloured gel pens roll across the paper she's working on. Chloe stares pointedly at me with one eyebrow raised. Her pen is paused an inch above her notebook.

"Erika I could get fired, you idiot."

"Details, details," I tease, flapping my hand.

I don't know why I thought Chloe would tell me anything, I know how seriously she takes her job here. She's twenty-four and, after studying at Oregon State in Portland, returned home to be the counsellor at three local district schools. For as long as I can remember, Chloe wanted to help people. She worked her ass off for it, but everyone around her never doubted that she'd be successful. Chloe never fails.

"Erika, why are you asking this? Is there something wrong?"

I glance up briefly to see her cinnamon eyes watching my face with concern. The pen that was in her hand is now laid flat on the paper, cushioned with lines of curly violet letters. Chloe is a fixer; a problem solver with an insatiable desire to save the world.

"Nothing wrong," I say softly, shaking my head. "Don't worry about it."

Her eyes narrow. "You like him?"

"My middle finger likes him, if that's what you're implying."

Chloe rolls her eyes and picks up her pen again. "He's a troubled kid, okay? I'm not going to say anymore but don't go too hard on him with all of your..." She wafts the pen around in the air, gesturing to me. "Sass."

I release an exaggerated gasp. "Sass? Me? I am significantly and supremely shocked that you can accuse me of such a trait."

"Very clever."

I grin smugly. Chloe glances at the clock mounted on the wall. The pink gel fingernails on her free hand tap rhythmically on the desk. "Aren't you meeting Miko soon?"

"I am," I say sweetly. "I just popped by again to steal some of your-"

"No."

"Just one cup, come on," I say, leaning forward in my seat. "Your coffee machine is way better than the filter stuff they give us in the cafeteria."

"You're a nightmare."

"A cup of coffee might help me wake up then."

Chloe releases a frustrated groan. "Fine. Am I driving you home tonight?"

I'm out of my seat like a shot, grabbing one of Chloe's paper cups and pressing the buttons on the coffee machine for some liquid-love. Chloe's office is small and homely; warm with coloured trinkets, cacti and paintings. I suppose it's supposed to feel comforting to students. The coffee machine is my favourite feature. "Nope, don't worry. Miko is coming over tonight for face masks and movies, so she can drive me. You can join too, if you want."

Chloe glares at my hands as I seal the cup of coffee with a flimsy plastic lid. "I'm going to start charging you for those coffee pods."

"I pay you in the light I bring to your life." I say cheerily, scooping up my things and sauntering to the door. "See you later, have a good day!"

"Be good and bite that tongue before it cuts someone." Chloe focuses back on her paper.

Her office door clicks shut behind me and I emerge back into the quiet hallway. It's the beginning of lunchtime and my friends will be waiting for me in the cafeteria. It's officially been a day since I agreed to the Anti-Delinquent System with Principal Blythe, and I haven't told a soul aside from Miko. The concept of doing this to someone is still enough to bring a queasy feeling to my stomach and I have to periodically remind myself to be emotionless, detached. That's not even to mention the anxiety of how exactly I'm going to achieve this feat.

Maybe I should ask Blythe to put me in contact with the other four people doing this. We could form a group chat, share ideas. Call ourselves The Delinquent Destroyers or Badass Battlers-

"I am not desperate!"

I almost jump out of my skin as a hand slams onto the locker in front of me, cutting me off and sending me reeling backwards in shock. I hiss a breath through gritted teeth as the hot mocha I'm holding splashes onto my forearm, spots of pain igniting on my skin. I mourn the spillage briefly before I look up to meet the brown eyes glaring down at me. Chase Thatcher is standing defiantly in front of me, his arm blocking my path and jaw set in irritation.

I pull on a smile. "I see you got my message, then."

Chase rolls his eyes and pulls his arm away from the lockers to cross it over his chest. Today he's wearing a black and white baseball t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the fact that he looks intensely attractive is only slightly distracting. "What do you want from me?"

I pause to assess. "I want a new coffee, seeing as most of mine is now spilled over my arm."

My nonchalant façade seems to irritate him further, and his eyes narrow. "Why did you approach me yesterday?"

"I wanted a conversation."

Chase releases a bitter laugh. "We've never met before, but you somehow felt justified enough to march over and judge me for things you know nothing about. So, tell me honestly, what is it that you want from me? Apart from to irritate the hell out of me, of course."

"You owe me a new coffee," I say slowly. "And as for your question, I genuinely did just come over for a conversation. You made me judge you when you were an assumptive ass."

I check the invisible watch on my wrist. "Now look, I need to go meet my friends, so if you have anything remotely interesting to say, I suggest you hurry. This cup of coffee is now pretty much empty, as is my cup of care."

I know it's probably not my best move to push his buttons, but I can't help it. I still don't know how I'm going to get him caught. I need to bide my time.

"Is this some weird, creepy way of getting my attention?" Chase asks suspiciously, interrupting my trail of thought.

"I honestly don't believe this," I slap my free hand to my forehead. "You still think I'm hitting on you?"

"Well I don't believe that you came up for me just for a conversation," he replies, leaning closer to me. His tone is sharp, sceptical. I'm suddenly intensely grateful that this hallway is quiet. "We don't know each other, and we've never spoken, so don't pretend like it's normal to approach me for a conversation for absolutely no reason."

He's right, of course. It is unusual that I'd want to approach and start chatting with a random stranger for no purpose, but what am I supposed to tell him? 'I wanted to research up on you, to know who I'd be trying to expel from school?' That would go down well, I'm sure.

What I need is a way to get footage of him doing something bad, as soon as possible. No emotional attachment, no friendliness. I can't stalk him and I'm pretty sure I can't catch him on CCTV, or he'd have already been caught. The most cunning thing to do is to be there with him, but how can I do that without trying to befriend him? I blink at Chase for a couple of awkward seconds as I strain my mind for ideas, before finally, I think back to the movie I was watching last night. Wild Child. Suddenly, the solution is clear in my brain.

"I want you to help me be a delinquent."

I regret the words as soon as they exit my mouth, realising quite how many issues there might be with this plan, but I can't turn back now. Chase's mouth slackens in surprise.

"What?" He asks stupidly.

"I want to act out," I say, with more determination than I feel. "I want to scuff up my reputation, stop everyone thinking I'm so squeaky clean. I want to push myself."

"You came to speak to me because you want to push yourself?" He repeats incredulously.

Abort mission. Abort.

"You know what? Never mind," I say, flushing with embarrassment and backing away. "Forget about the coffee. Just continue with your day."

A hand grabs my arm as I turn in the other direction. Chase's grip is warm, and he pulls me back towards him with a strength I haven't got the energy to fight against. I look at him warily as he releases me my arm, but his expression is no longer confused. His features are stony, unreadable. "Why are you doing this?"

Improvise, Erika.

"I want to catch my parent's attention." I blink, surprised at my own answer, before continuing. "My sister, she's perfect in every sense of the word, the model daughter. It's like all they'll ever see is her...I want them to see me, notice me for once."

I almost wince. That ended up a little close to home.

Chase's expression seems to have softened, and his eyes are flickering over my face to read my expression. I try to look as sincere as possible. "What exactly do you want me to do? What is it that you're asking me for?"

"Just a little guidance," I shrug, my confidence restoring. He's not flat-out laughing or rejecting me, so my cards are still on the table. "I don't want to get caught."

I want to get you caught instead.

Chase leans back against the lockers, staring blankly at the other side of the hallway. He hesitates for a few seconds, before looking back at me. "Why would I help you?"

"I don't know," I say coolly. "But you're going to, aren't you?"

Chase chuckles, a low sound in the back of his throat. "Now who's assumptive?"

"Look. Let's just say I'll owe you, okay?"

A small smirk curves his lips as he looks at me. After a brief hesitation, he speaks. "What's your name?"

"I'm Erika Monroe," I say. I watch the name register in his expression- he has heard of me. With my snarky mouth and pretty sister, I'm far from invisible at this school. Chase nods almost knowingly, before his features flatten out into the same emotionless mask as before.

"Meet me at Sophie Rickshaw's party tonight." He stands up from his position, running a hand through his already messy hair. "8 o'clock. Be there, or I'm not helping you. And this better not be some long-winded attempt to hit on me. I have a low tolerance for games."

"What about my coffee?" I lift the mostly empty cup and wiggle it.

Chase raises an irritated eyebrow. "What about it?"

"You owe me one," I accuse. "I will collect."

"We'll see about that."

"We will." I begin to back away. "Oh, and seriously, please stop thinking I'm trying to hit on you. Trust me, I like my coffee how I like myself...dark, bitter and way too hot for you." My face bursts into a grin and I spin on my heel to walk away.

Now walk away quickly. It only works if you have the last word.

Even though I'm now heading in the wrong direction again.

I sigh, but I can't help but feel a little bounce in my step. I'm meeting Chase at Sophie's party tonight, and phase one of the plan begins.

The sooner I get this boy kicked out of school, the better.

*~*~*

"I have come to the realisation that push up bras only work if there is some chest to push up," Miko says sadly, cupping her chest through the crop top and angling herself in front of the full-length mirror. "Yet I am president of the itty-bitty titty committee."

I smile over at her from my position, sitting cross-legged on the stool in front of my desk. "They need you to lead them, Miko. Your work is integral."

"You're right." She sighs dramatically. Her hands fall from her chest and she turns around to prance over to me. "Me and my small breasts are going to own this party."

I hum in approval, turning back to face the mirror in front of me and smearing a layer of charcoal grey mud-mask over my nose. No mask I've ever encountered has actually made a difference to the size of my pores, but it's fun to do regardless. "You should definitely borrow that top."

Miko laughs, plucking an eyebrow pencil from the assortment of cosmetics cluttering my desk and rolling it between her fingers absentmindedly. "I've worn this top more than you have."

"You better not get any of this stuff on it," I say lowly, as I finish coating my forehead. I attempt to keep my face as expressionless as possible, but I can already feel the characteristic tightness of the mask on my skin. I push the tub in Miko's direction using my elbow, before rising from my seat to go and wash my hands in the restroom.

As soon as I told Miko about the party tonight, our films-and-face-mask plans transformed into party preparation. Miko loves parties. Alongside the fact that she thrives in a social scene, she is also completely addicted to the drama and gossip provided by the catalyst of alcohol. Sometimes, I'll catch her with an ear to the door as a couple argue in a bedroom, or completely engrossed, watching as a guy talks to his best friend about who sent him a nude photo. In most scenarios, I'm there and able to pull her away by her ear, but one of these days her nosiness is going to backfire.

When I return to my bedroom, Miko is sprawled back on my bed with her legs directly in the air, examining her feet.

"What are you doing?"

She glances over at me briefly, before resuming her analysis. "Oh, just trying to figure out if one of my legs is longer than the other."

"You'd walk a bit funny if they were," I say with a laugh, sitting back down on my desk stool. "And you'd probably be in pain."

Miko's milky legs lower to the blankets again, and she props herself up on one elbow. "I'm pretty sure one of my feet is bigger than the other. I might also have one boob bigger than the other. Is it really that much of a stretch that it applies to legs too?"

I bite my lip to contain my laugh. "Did you see Kai today?"

Instantly the amusement dies from Miko's face. Kaito is Miko's younger brother: a sophomore who seems to be headed slightly off track. He's spent his summer mainly with a gang of slightly older kids from a nearby school, and he's hardly at home anymore which is stressing his Mom a lot. Miko is hoping that Kai starting back at school again will help distance him from his new friends and focus him back on real life a little. I hope it works; her and her brother have always been close, and she's been so worried recently.

"No," she says quickly. "But I asked his homeroom teacher to tell me if he doesn't show up."

"So that means he showed up, right?"

Miko attempts a smile. "Probably."

Just as I'm about to ask her if she's planning to stay for dinner, Miko yelps and springs upwards from the bed, scrambling up against the pillows.

"My butt just vibrated. I knew there was something wrong with me."

I roll my eyes and heave myself up from my seat to step over to my bed. My phone is lying face up on the covers, screen lit and buzzing periodically. "No, you idiot, my phone vibrated."

Unknown number. Strange.

I slide the button to answer the call and lift it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Erika." An unmistakably male voice speaks. "I need to cash in that favour."

Happy Friday! I hope you liked the chapter, leave your thoughts below because I'll be following three random commenters <3 Next chapter will be released on Monday!

This week's question: How did you get the ideas for tbbsmb/tads? I always come up with the titles first! I like to come up with weird, abnormal ways for the characters to meet each other, and I think a title that demands attention instantly tells people 'this is a little bit different.'

Feel free to comment any questions you have for myself or my characters. Thank you for reading and I'll see you later, alligators.

Cherry x