Prank Wars by Stephanie Fowers

didn’t fall.
    “So the guys, they were, like, running,” Kali shouted loudly into my ear. I squinted at the sound. Tory was still catching her breath behind her, and I could see her eyes roll at Kali’s every word. “And we were, like, we can’t catch them—’cause they’re guys and all and they’re fast, ya know! And then Tory was, like, going really fast and she almost caught one. And he had our cushions! Can you believe it?”
    “I know,” I growled.
    Tory straightened. Her ’who’ bun flopped over her head. She glanced over at the apartment next door to ours. There was some sort of notice stuck in the door jamb that I had missed because of Eric’s visit. “Hey, what’s this?” I asked. Before Lizzie could stop me, I ripped the paper away from our neighbor’s door. “Is it an eviction notice?”
    “In Provo?” Lizzie settled into the camping chair on the balcony, hiding in Sandra’s potted garden of flowers. “I don’t think so.”
    “Maybe it was meant to evict the ghosts,” Tory said, “because nobody lives there!” She tried to take the note from me, but I was taller. I kept it easily from her.
    Kali gave a little squeal of delight. “Hey guys, don’t! Don’t talk about ghosts! You’re freaking me out. Stop!”
    I unfolded the notice. I thought I had seen a girl go into the apartment next door once. When did she leave? Lizzie shook her head slowly. “There used to be a time when we knew our neighbors.” She swatted at the mosquitoes that gathered by our porch light. “Remember that? When we did things like normal people?”
    I held the paper up to our porch light. “We know where you live,” I read then laughed. “Apparently not. Amateurs! The guys put this on the wrong door. They’re getting sloppy!” Before I could read the rest, I glanced over at Lizzie’s pained expression. “Byron sends his worst men and he loses the war. You’re only as strong as your weakest man, remember that.” Kali smiled airily at me. I tried to ignore that as I read quickly through the threatening note: “ We want what belongs to us. Don’t cross us or we’re coming after you.”
    What had we stolen from Byron lately that would spawn such a note? Shower heads? Light bulbs? A remote control? It could be anything really. Well, the guys could kiss it all goodbye until they returned our couch cushions, and even then it was iffy. It was getting late and I was too tired for negotiations. Lizzie shoved our door open. Kali followed her inside. I crumpled the threatening letter in my hand, trying to distract myself from Eric’s cologne. I smelled like him now.
    Sandra met me head on at the door. Her gorgeous eyes narrowed dangerously at me. She tapped the heels of her bronze toe-peaks against the cheap linoleum in the entryway. “We’re missing something essential from our living room.”
    I edged past her through the door, which was difficult, since she had only given me an inch between her and the door frame. Tory wriggled through on her other side. “I’ll get the cushions back,” I promised.
    “When?” Sandra snarled. “I had visitors and they couldn’t even sit down.”
    “Wait a second, rewind.” I met Lizzie’s eyes. They danced with sudden realization. “Did you just say you had visitors?”
    Sandra looked guarded. She was one of those girls who thought we were out to get her men, but I wasn’t one of those girls. At least I thought I wasn’t. “Yes,” she said slowly. “At least one of us isn’t a social recluse.”
    Ouch, except it really didn’t hurt. “Was one of your visitors blond with hazel eyes?” And incredibly attractive?
    “Oh no. What did you do to them?”
    I flinched and Lizzie giggled. “Psycho,” she mouthed at me. I turned away from her to take a steadying breath. So our little spies were innocent for once? But that made no sense. Eric had flirted with me, hadn’t he? Maybe I just thought he had.
    Sandra interrupted my inner dialogue, “Tell me who