The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

Chapter Nineteen: Frog Kisses And Fairy Tales

Dedicated to LadyLuna4eva—because you can hear the music in the words and dance to the melody. She's one of my favorite readers. =)

A/N: Hello, everyone! Thanks for poking your head here again to see what's next with Brandon and Charlotte. This chapter is still a big chunk of the Championettes Brunch but it's an important phase for Charlotte who will go from high to low to high throughout the next few scenes. 

I hope you like this one. This story is a love story but somehow, it has grown to be a bit more—I think that many of us would like to be a little bit like Charlotte sometimes. She's not perfect but I personally think there's something about her that's full of heart and goodness that will continue to shine through no matter what.

As always, please vote and comment! And listen to the chapter soundtrack—it's been my constant favorite all month! =)

***

The official induction of officers and members felt like a graduation ceremony.

Names were called up on stage and people got handed some rolled-up certificates. Everyone applauded, and the valedictorian (Layla, in this case, although she got an F in Playing-With-Other-Kids-In-The-Sandbox class) did a pretty speech.

Like graduation, the ceremony heralded the start of something new (because weren't endings simply new beginnings, anyway? Like the half-full, half-empty glass of milk mentality) and in my case, it was the start of what I would dub from this day forward as 'The Charlotte Conspiracy'. 

A series of little accidents besieged me.

While I wasn’t the queen of subtlety myself, I would at least be smart enough not to be so obvious about sabotaging somebody—unless the point was to make it known that they were being sabotaged and hope that it would be enough to send them packing.

First, there was the cranberry punch someone spilled on my back on their way to their table before the ceremony started.

It splashed on my hair, shoulders and back because I was seated when the person stumbled past me.

Brandon jumped out of his seat, grabbing a table cloth to dry me but I simply groaned under my breath and calmly dried myself. 

I didn't know at that time that these little accidents I was about to have weren't very 'accidental' after all. Thanks to fate, their plan to send me up the stage with a giant red stain on my dress was thwarted by the fact that I was already wearing a red dress. Someone should've brought a different color of Kool-Aid.

Since my bun was quite soaked and I didn't have time to run to the powder room to fix the mess before I was called up onstage, I just unpinned my hair and shook it loose. 

My dark blond hair tumbled in wild, springy waves around me (the spackle that held it together was coming apart from the moisture), and the most I could do with it was tousle it quickly with my fingers so I didn't totally look like a science project on static electricity—or one made of plaster of paris. 

Brandon reassured me I still looked great with that bedhead-after-a-night-of-heavy-sex effect. 

I snorted and told him I didn't really relish have everyone speculate on my nocturnal activities. It felt oddly voyeuristic.

Anyway, on my way to the stage, someone accidentally dropped their gooey custard cake on the ground just as I was about to take a step forward.

I either had to stick my foot in the mush or lose my balance and break an ankle.

I winced at the mess but tried to keep walking.