Free Prank Wars by Stephanie Fowers

off that sheet, you can just write it back on there. You know if you really want to help him out and…”
    AmyLee slammed the door before I could finish. I could hear her platform booties storming down the tiled floor to Relief Society. For once I was glad I was in nursery. “I guess I was wrong,” Byron told Carrie. “Girls aren’t like knives at all. They’re sweet, demure little creatures.” I crumpled the piece of paper with my name on it and threw it in the trash can one-handed. “You know, Madeleine, I’ve been thinking.” My eyes narrowed. He never used my real name. It got my attention, my suspicious attention. “Why can’t we just get along?” I listened to the hall outside fill with people. Talking and laughter echoed into our little room. Classes must be out. That was one thing about this new calling. Time sped by faster than it ever had for church. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “Just for two weeks. We’ll call it our civil month. And have a big celebration in the end. We’ll invite all of our…uh…soldiers. Give ’em a break from the big war.”
    Considering how everything he did was a trick, it would most likely end up being a civil war instead. Whatever he was planning, he’d turn it on me. I smiled. “Sounds like the makings of the perfect chick flick.”
    Byron leaned back against a pink chair. “I suppose you consider me the villain?”
    I stood up, putting away Carrie’s toys. “Not you. That would make you too interesting. You’d probably be the annoying player the heroine hates and then she grows to like because he’s hot. I’m sure they break up once the credits finish rolling.”
    Byron smiled faintly. “You think I’m hot?” I choked. Why wasn’t Carrie’s mom back from classes yet? I wasn’t doing very well in the war of words this week. “You know what’s wrong here?” Now Byron was talking to the little girl as if she’d understand what he was saying. I hoped it wouldn’t have anything to do with me, but it was a vain hope. “Madeleine’s beautiful. She just doesn’t know how to work it.”
    My mouth dropped. “Excuse me?” He glanced back at me as if he were shocked that I had eavesdropped on his conversation. “I…,” but I wasn’t sure how to respond. “I do too.” My cheeks flamed at Byron’s sudden laugh. Great. Now I was vain.
    Carrie tired of watching us and started pawing through the toys. She threw them through the air like they were fireworks on the Fourth of July. We were both supposed to keep an eye on her, but I felt Byron’s eyes on me instead. I finally turned to him and wished I hadn’t. He had a serious expression on his face. “Then why don’t you work it?” He tilted his head at me. “Does it hurt to feel, Mad? C’mon, you can tell me. What happened to you?”
    How dare he throw this psychological warfare at me? “What happened to you !” I sputtered back.
    “I asked first. Who left you at the altar?”
    I went rigid. He thought he was being sarcastic, but he hit it dead on. Next month was the date Cameron and I had set for the temple, June 6th to be exact—in two weeks. “No one you need be concerned with.” I was proud of how smooth I sounded.
    “Fine, nothing happened to you, but hypothetically speaking, let’s say it did? Let’s discuss this bubble you have.” He made this huge sweeping motion about two feet in front of me. Byron was obsessed with my personal space.
    “I’d rather not.”
    “Okay, we’ll just test it.” Byron stepped into my bubble. I steeled myself, but forced myself to stay put. I wasn’t about to let Byron prove his point. He tapped my arm experimentally like he was some kind of doctor testing my reflexes. “So?” he asked.
    “Pretty annoying, but you’re not popping my bubble or anyth—” He tapped me on the top of my head, and I laughed. I tried to stop it by wrinkling my nose. This was ridiculous. “Nope. My bubble isn’t as bad as you think.”
    His eyes took on a