Walking into my bedroom, I drop my backpack to the side and crash onto my bed. My phone vibrates and I see a text from my mom, saying that she won’t being home tonight. She’s pulling an all-nighter at the station to resolve some rookie issues with filing, apparently someone did it all wrong and she has volunteered to fix it with one other person.


    This brings a smile to my face. I’m home alone for an entire night, hours and hours to myself.


    Now energized, I skip downstairs and slide into the kitchen, suddenly feeling a need for cookies. Once all supplies areid out, I toss and mix things together, then ball it up and ce it on a baking sheet. Sometime during the process, I got the idea to make one giant cookie instead of many small ones. Luckily, we have a round pan. For dinner, I shall have a cookie pizza.


    I feel like a child, but with a car, which is much better. What shall I fetch myself? Bath bombs? Ice cream? Romance movies? What other teenage-girl things can I think of? Tonight I will enjoy myself, I will be normal.


    Once the cookie is done, I leave it out to cool while I take a quick trip to the grocery store.


    It is a speedy five-minute drive, and when I get there I grab myself a basket, nning to fill it with treats. First I explore the savory snacks, then the frozen section, and finally the candy. A bag of popcorn, two bags of chips, ice cream, and an array of chocte is my haul. I love chocte.


    Needless to say, I am in a great mood, that is until I check out and walk back to my car. My eyese upon many sttered eggs covering my car, windows, hood, trunk, and all. My shoulders drop. “Seriously?” I huff.Property belongs to N?vel(D)r/ama.Org.


    I’ll have to clean it when I get home.


    Now with a sour mood, I ce my grocery bags on the passenger seat and make my way back.


    Who has the time to egg my car? Who would waste food like that? The only thing I’m happy about is that they wasted their money on these eggs. I wonder if it was someone I know, or if it was one of the many townies who despise me. You’d think an adult would be smart enough to realize that this was a childish and stupid thing to do.


    I bring my things inside ande back out with a damp rag. Painfully enough, a family walks by, watching as I wipe away raw egg from my backseat window. It is times like these when I wish that note from my locker was legitimate. God, if I only had proof.


    Nightes and I eat some of my cookie pizza, needing to save the rest forter before I throw up. Deciding to watch a movie, I get cozy in my bed-my array of junk food beside me-and I find something to entertain me, something romantic, something dramatic. Snacking on chips and popcorn is not a good idea after scarfing down half of a giant cookie, and I discover that fairly quickly.


    The movie ends and I find myself passed out amongst my junk food.


    Sounds prod at my sleeping self, waking me up a few hourster. I roll around in my bed, ignoring the odd noises from outside, trying to fall back asleep. It is when I hear a loudugh and many curses that I immediately sit up.


    My heart races as I slip out of bed and listen for more sounds. A bumping noise causes me to jump as if someone is throwing something at the roof. “What the hell?” I mutter.


    Stealthily, I peek through the shudders and search my front yard for someone. My eyes shoot open when two boys run across thewn, looking to be quite amused. I cannot see much of the house, but I watch as they get into a car and drive away. Suddenly, off to the side, I notice a stray piece of toilet paper,ying across thewn.


    I groan and hurry down the stairs, leaping through the front door, and right away I see their masterpiece.


    Those two idiots toilet-papered my house.


    It is strung all over the trees and bushes, hanging from my house like strips of streamers or Christmas lights. It possibly snowed while I was sleeping, leaving a white coating over everything. How the hell am I supposed to clean this up?


    My mother cannot see this.


    Just my luck, first the eggs, now the toilet paper, what’s next? Someone throws a slushy in my face at school tomorrow?


    I begin cleaning up the bushes and tugging down the pieces I can reach, praying that it doesn’t begin raining. Frustrated, I grab the thing I call the pool pole, the long post that you attachs and brushes to. With the brush piece on, I wave it at the trees and the house, snagging the toilet paper that made it higher up.


    At two in the morning, I should not be swinging a giant metal pole in the air, I should be sleeping!


    Halfway through, I begin crying from ack of sleep and annoyance. They are angry tears, falling as I stuff bunches of toilet paper into garbage bags. If I’m lucky, I’ll get three more hours of sleep, but that will likely turn into an hour. There is simply too much to clean up. They must have bought at least thirty rolls.


    All of this, all because of a rumor? And one that’s true! I could scream and cry about how unfair this is, how unfair life is right now, and at some point I do. The screaming is limited, though, as waking up the entire neighborhood would not be a good thing.


    I wish I wasn’t alone right now.