Silver Eyes by Nicole Luiken Page B

view. “On second thought, let’s do Mike’s room instead.”
    â€œOoh, let’s.” Rianne grinned, in the spirit of things now.
    If Timothy was sleeping in his closet, his nerves must be pretty on edge. I wanted to make sure that when he entered his room, he knew it was a prank and not something more sinister.
    So Rianne and I tied all Mike’s clothes together and strung them down the hall, before retreating to our bedroom. We turned off the lights and got into our beds, but left the door open a crack so we would be sure to hear their reaction.
    Mike didn’t disappoint me. “What the hell?” he said twenty minutes later when the movie ended and they turned in for the night.
    â€œAre those your clothes?” Timothy sounded confused.
    â€œYes,” Mike said. “And no, I didn’t tie them together. And I think we can rule out your mother and Graciana, too.” He came and stood right by our doorway. “Hmmm, I wonder who could have done it?” he said loudly. “Could it possibly have been Angel and Rianne?”
    In the bed across from me, Rianne stuffed her fist in her mouth to keep from laughing.
    I faked a snore, making her shoulders shake all the more.
    â€œStop grinning,” Mike told Timothy as he stooped to pick up the clothes. “You haven’t checked your room yet. They might have put all your clothes on the roof.”
    â€œMe?”
    The open astonishment in Timothy’s face made me doubly glad I’d decided to play a trick on Mike, too. Now Timothy would feel included in the fun instead of singled out and picked on.
    â€œYes, you.” Mike gave Timothy a little shove. “Open your door and let’s see.”
    They stepped out of my range of vision so I got up and put my eye to the crack. I saw Timothy approach his door warily.
    â€œWhat if it’s booby-trapped?” Timothy whispered.
    â€œThen you get wet.”
    Timothy turned the doorknob and pushed open the door without stepping inside. When nothing happened, he reached inside and flipped on the light.
    The two boys stared inside. “How did they do that?” Timothy sounded dazed.
    Mike clapped Timothy on the shoulder. “Well, it looks like your clothes are fine.” They laughed.
    Mike came back out into the hall; I retreated back into bed. “You know this means war, don’t you?” he said loudly, standing in front of Rianne’s and my door.
    â€œHow do you know it was Rianne and Angel?” Timothy asked. “It could have been Zinnia and Dahlia.”
    â€œTrust me,” Mike said. “I know Angel. This is one hundred percent her style.”
    My smile faded. Mike knew my style, but I hadn’t had any idea that I was someone who liked to play tricks until tonight.

    The boys had their revenge the next morning when a beaming Graciana served Rianne and me omelets while everyone else had pancakes. “Mr. Timothy tells me you had an argument over who most likes spicy food. Here is my specialty, omelets. They are very hot.”
    Faced with hurting her feelings, Rianne and I both dug in.
    I liked spicy foods, but Graciana had put in enough peppers to set fire to the plate. “Bring on the Tabasco sauce,” I said gamely, as my eyes streamed. My tongue went numb halfway through, but I ate the whole omelet.
    Rianne only managed half of hers before conceding the field to me. “It’s very good,” she told Graciana weakly.
    As soon as Graciana left, Rianne aimed a killing glare at Timothy. She didn’t seem to blame Mike at all. A mistake. I was pretty sure it had been Mike’s idea—as sure as Mike had been about last night’s prank being my style.
    â€œIt’s time to go,” Timothy said. “Where’s Zinnia? Is she always late?”
    â€œShe’ll be down in a minute,” Dahlia said sharply. “And she wouldn’t be late if you had a decent number of