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I don't own the Lorien Legacies.

Prankster

"Marina! Marina, wake up!" I'm shook awake by Ella, who is sitting on the edge of my bed, trying her very best not to giggle.

"What's so funny?" I ask. Ella bursts out laughing, and I lie in bed eyeing her nervously. Instinctively, I reach out to see if I'd wet the bed—a long time ago when I just arrived at the convent there was this one girl who would put the younger girls' hands in a bowl of warm water—but no, the sheets are completely dry. Then my hand goes up to my face, but I feel nothing strange there, either. Wiping away a tear, Ella manages to hand me a mirror.

"Sorry, Nine dared me to!" Ella chokes on the words, but she holds the laughter in as I cautiously open the mirror, revealing a mustache drawn on my face with a marker. Heat rises to my cheeks.

"ELLA!" I shriek, as I jump out of bed and chase her to the hallway! "Ella! Come back here!"

"Don't worry, I used a washable one!" Ella giggles, dashing away from me.

"Whoa there, why so early?" Eight appears in front of me and I bump into him. I look up at him, about to answer his question, until I see a glint of mischief in his eyes. Then I remember that there's a big, fat piece of facial hair drawn on my face—too late now, anyway. Eight smirks. "Nice, um, outfit."

"Don't laugh," I scold. "I was just gonna wash it off."

"Looks more like you were just gonna rip Ella's head off," Eight mutters.

"Yeah, that too." I turn toward the restroom at the other side of the hall when Eight smiles and reaches out for my arm.

"Marina, wait," he says. I look at him. "You don't have to get Ella back."

I raise an eyebrow at him, carefully forming the words, "Why not?"

Eight grins. "Nine dared me to draw that—I only dared Ella to take the blame."

"EIGHT!" I cry, jerking my arm away from his grip and giving him a shove in the chest.

"Calm down," he laughs, gathering me into his arms. I allow myself to enjoy his embrace for a split second, then I push away. Man, I need to get back at this guy.

Eight acts surprised by my rejection before teleporting away. Instinctively I turn around just in case he's behind me, but it seems that he went elsewhere. Cautiously I walk over to the kitchen for a quick breakfast, jumping at every noise I hear, even the usual creaking of the floorboards. I swear I won't fall for anymore pranks today.

I settle down with a box of cereal, a bowl, a spoon, and half-full carton of milk. Paranoid, I give the carton a little shake—just in case anything odd is in there—but all I hear is the milk swishing around. I pour the milk into my bowl without a second thought. I study the cereal box of cornflakes pointlessly, as I don't have an x-ray vision Legacy. Crossing my fingers and hoping for the best, I shake a handful of cereal into bowl. Once the cornflakes (and nothing else) come out, I loosen up a bit. Suddenly, a pale green hand with stitches and scars drops out, startling me as I yelp and drop the box, the contents spilling to the floor as well as causing some milk being splashed out of the bowl.

Eight appears in front of me, too, laughing his heart out.

"EIGHT!" I shriek. He gives me a charming smile before teleporting away again. I roll my eyes and look at the mess he caused. Deciding that I have no appetite anymore, I clean up the mess using my telekinesis.

"Marina," Ella cries. I turn around to see her racing towards me. "I have the perfect idea—" she glances around, making sure Eight isn't there "—to get back at him."

That afternoon Ella and I sneak into Eight's bedroom with a pile of green goo we picked up at a dollar store earlier. Ella had dug up a bucket in the garden and we washed it with a hose.

"I'm going to lift you up," I whisper to Ella. She smiles and nods as she firmly grips the bucket. I concentrate and lift her up. Ella creaks open the door and balances the bucket on top so it leans on the door frame and will drop towards the hall if someone touches the door, even slightly. She gives me a quick thumbs up and I carefully lower her down. Squinting at the top of the door frame, Ella decides to shrink down to a tiny five-year-old and darts out Eight's room agilely without touching the door. On the other hand, I'm having a bit of conflict figuring out how to leave the room. Maybe I should hide so I don't miss the bucket dropping on Eight. I go against it, though, because after a good look there really is no place to hide in this almost bare room. I guess Eight really likes to keep things simple.

Straightening myself as best as possible, I squeeze past the crack between the door and the hall. I miss the door by a hair and carefully scoot out toward the hallway but I barely make it past the doorframe when Eight appears in front on me. Startled, I inch back a bit but luckily I don't come in contact with the door. I blush and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear before smiling at Eight.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he smiles back. "What are you up to?"

I roll my eyes. "You don't have to be suspicious of everything I do."

Eight merely shrugs. He leans towards me and places a hand under my chin, lifting my head up. "Nope, I don't, don't I?" He chuckles a bit at his own play on words. Then he casually leans an arm against the wall—no door—uh oh.

I yelp and jump as the bucket falls on top of me, the green goop getting caught in my hair and draping over my face. Eight roars with laughter, clapping as he catches his breath. I ball up my hands into fists as I pointlessly wipe the slime out of my face, but it only drips some more.

"Shut it!" I hiss at Eight, but he only laughs some more. The goo has gotten on my clothes and my shirt clings to my stomach.

"I'm s-sorry!" Eight manages, barely choking out the words. His laughter gradually dies down. "Hey, you don't look that bad…" His hands reach out to help me wipe the goo from my face. "And, were you trying to prank me?"

I do my best to keep a straight face. "Ella's idea!"

After that experience, I really give up on pranks.