Veronique the Brat (Chapter 5)

After the girls witnessed Veronique fall down the long flight of stairs, Madeline decided to call the ambulance for her cousin. It took not so long for the ambulance to come to the house and strap the knocked-out Veronique to the gurney. Madeline spoke with the doctors as Veronique was slowly gaining conscious when the gurney was hoisted up. The girls were standing in the lounge with no equipment on, watching Veronique about to get rolled out of the door.
Madeline stood with her girlfriends after finishing her convo. "Get well, Ronnie!" she waved.
"Fille de joie!" Veronique uttered in a weak yet loud voice.
The doctors helped each other push the gurney out then closed the doors for Madeline.
"What does 'fille de joie' mean?" queried Skye.
"It means 'floozy'," Madeline answered with a weak smile.
"Oh."
"So what did the man say?" asked Lizzie.
"He said that since Veronique already has a sickness," started Madeline, "they might as well keep her at the hospital until she gets well. Which means we don't have to take care of her anymore."
The girls threw their hands in the air and whooped.
"Good," said Skye. "You know, I was just doing it for the money but money obviously doesn't mean anything if I have to be tortured the whole time."
"No more goggles to mess up my hair," said Andrea, fluffing her curly brown hair with one hand.
"You know, you guys didn't really need to wear that stuff," mentioned Madeline. "Lyme disease is not really contagious."
"I don't care. I didn't want her coughing on me or nothing. Just normal people habits."
"I'm glad that's over," admitted Debra. "Now we can just relax." She closed her eyes and put her hands together as ones would do when praying.
"I couldn't agree with you more," said Lizzie.
"Say Madeline," said Skye. "Whose bag is that?" She pointed at the big purple purse in the corner of the lounge.
"I don't know," answered Madeline. "I think it's Veronique's."
"Let's see if it's Veronique's." Skye walked over to the corner and picked up the purse by the brown handles. It was already open so she just stuck her hand inside. She grabbed a wallet then put her arm through the handles. She opened it and found I.D. "Oh, I found Veronique's identity card from school so this is her purse." She poked around in the wallet and pulled a numerous amount of money. "And this must be the thirty-thousand dollars."
The girls ran up to Skye to get a good look of the money.
"Skye, you can't be going through people's wallets like that," said Madeline.
"Hey, that little hamster owes me," said Skye. "Don't you think my hard work deserves a little something?" She flipped through the cash and counted for her desired amount. "Four thousand dollars because there is four letters in my name." Skye folded up her money and stuffed it in her jeans' pocket.
"You know, I helped out, too," mentioned Andrea. "And I think I deserve at least ten thousand so can you hook a sister up?"
Skye counted the remaining money and pull out a total of ten thousand dollars to give to Andrea.
"I saw these shoes online," shared Lizzie, "that total up to... I'm gonna say five thousand!"
Skye flipped through the money until she counted five thousand dollars. She took the amount out and handed it to Lizzie.
"You guys, money doesn't buy happiness..." said Debra. "But give me five hundred."
Skye counted five hundred dollars then gave it to Debra.
"You know," started Madeline, stepping closer to Skye, "my manager, Penelope, has been slow with her checks lately and I need to be paid of course. So you can break a fifty? You know what? Just give me the rest of it; I need new sheets."

Veronique the Brat (Chapter 4)

The day after, it had gotten worst for the girls. They continued to help Veronique but she became crazier than ever. They wore their masks, gloves and goggles to prevent getting sick but they were mentally sick of Veronique's demands. Lizzie was upstairs in Madeline's bedroom, endeavoring to take care of Veronique while the girls were downstairs, endeavoring to avoid Madeline's sick cousin.
Veronique swatted repeatedly at Lizzie who tried to place an ice pack on her forehead. Veronique screamed like a baby through her hospital mask as Lizzie was afraid for her life, trying to dodge Veronique's flying hands.
"I don't want that on me!" Madeline's cousin whined.
"But the ice pack is supposed to make you feel better," explained Lizzie.
"No, it won't!"
"Madeline said it would."
"Screw Madeline! Get that thing off me!"
"Don't you want to feel better?"
"I already got chills. Why would I want to feel more cold?"
"To prevent heat flashes caused by your P.M.S.?"
Veronique stopped swinging and gasped. She swiped the ice pack from Lizzie's hands, opened it and poured the ice down Lizzie's shirt. Lizzie shivered and gasped from the chilliness taking over chest then her whole body.
"That's what you get," said Veronique. "Now if you want to make yourself useful, make me a latte. Fat free! With low fat whipped cream."
Lizzie stood trembling with her arms far apart. "How do you make a latte? Is that like a Ralph Macchio?"
"Do you mean 'macchiato'?"
"Yeah, that makes sense."
"Just buy me one, Dumbo!"
Lizzie whimpered before sprinting out of the bedroom. She walked through the hallway then down the stairs into the living room where the girls were chilling, not literally.
Skye looked at Lizzie and noticed the big wet spot on her shirt. "What happened to you?"
The girls got up from the chairs and sofas and crowded Lizzie.
"Veronique didn't want the ice pack on her head," answered Lizzie, "so she emptied it into my bra and asked me to make a latte. So how do you make a latte? Is that like a Ralph Macchiato?"
"Madeline, your cousin is out of control," said Andrea, ignoring Lizzie's question.
"I know," said Madeline, placing the palms of her hands on her forehead for a few seconds.
"You should go up there and talk to her," suggested Debra.
"Why?"
"Because," started Skye, "she's your cousin. And you two are practically the same. You're both rich, spoiled, you speak French, like to flirt with cute boys and have long frickin' names."
"I'm not rich; my parents are rich. But I see where you're getting at. Fine, I'll talk to her."
"Be careful," warned Lizzie. "She might pour ice on your boobies."
Madeline ignored that comment and headed upstairs. She speed-walked into the hallway then entered her bedroom. She walked over to the bed where Veronique was under the covers, writhing and trying to rest.
"Ronnie, we need to talk," Madeline declared. "What are those?"
Veronique took her eyes off the little pieces of paper in her hands to look at her cousin. "Oh, these are Tori Kelly tickets. I was looking at them to make sure they were legit."
Madeline chuckled. "Why do you need to make sure they're legit?"
"So we can be able to go."
"Okay, first of all: the concert is in a couple of weeks and there's a chance that you won't recover by then. Second of all: I planned to go with Lizzie."
"Well, Princess Cinder Block is going to have to wait 'til next year."
Madeline snatched the tickets from Veronique and set them on the night stand. "Listen, Ronnie, ever since you've been here, you have been a total brat. You yelled at my friends, spilled hot soup on them, made them buy you pink toilet paper and stuffed ice down their bras. All they've been trying to do was to help you and you're taking advantage of that. Lyme disease or not, if you can't be grateful for the people trying to nurse you back to health, I will have to remove you from this house. Don't make me do it; I have been a good cousin to you. But I've watched you violate my sheets with soup, vomit and... rash germs, so no more!"
Veronique sat up and took her mask off. "Is that how you talk?"
"Why you take the mask off?"
"I am sick and practically dying. I think I'm allowed to act however I want." Veronique threw the covers off her body and planted her feet on the floor. "If you're not going to give me what I want, then I'll have to take it from you." She reached under the bed and pulled out a baseball bat.
Madeline jumped back. "Where did you get the baseball bat?"
Veronique stood up with the bat resting in her hands. "Oh, I had it for a while. I brought it with me for emergencies."
"What kind of emergencies? Because we have a dope security system."
Veronique swung her bat at Madeline but Madeline luckily ducked.
"Whoa, wait!" Madeline demanded. "What are you doing?"
"Is your friend out buying my latte?"
"I don't know. She was still here when I came--"
Veronique tried to swing her bat at Madeline again but Madeline jumped back, avoiding contact.
"I want my fat free latte with low fat whipped cream!" Veronique fussed.
"Why does one part got to be fat free and the other part low fat?"
Veronique made many attempts to hit Madeline with the baseball bat. However, luckily, Madeline was fast and instinctive enough to avoid every swing and blow produced by her crazy cousin. Madeline ran out of the room, screaming for help. Veronique followed her into the hallway and halted when Madeline stopped in front of the top of the stairs. Around that time, her friends made it up and commenced to surround her.
"What is going on?" asked Skye. "Whoa..." She caught a glimpse of the bat in Veronique's hand.
"Where did she get the baseball bat?" whispered Debra.
"It's for emergencies," responded Madeline.
"You guys claim that I've been a brat to you," said Veronique, "while you have been brats to me. I'm gonna be sick for a long time so you better make my time worthwhile."
"How long do you think you're gonna be sick?" asked Lizzie nervously. "Because I want to be able to live my life. I never owned a house or voted for Hillary Clinton. I want to at least live until I'm sixty-nine like David Bowie or until I'm nine-hundred like Betty White. May God rest her soul."
"How dumb are you?" questioned Veronique. "I mean you're so dumb. You got the IQ of a table."
"Hey!" Andrea ejaculated. "Don't talk to her like that!" She began to put her hands on Veronique, grabbing her by the face and pulling her towards herself.
Veronique let go of the bat when she was in Andrea's grip. Andrea let go of her after pulling her in. When she did, Veronique lost her balance and tripped on the first step of the staircase. After that, she tumbled down the stairs for a half a minute. The girls watched in panic as Veronique fell then rolled on the floor, eventually stopping and laying unconsciously on her side. The girls just stared in shock.
"Nice going, Ronda Rousey!" said Madeline. "You just killed her!"
"Oh, my God!" Lizzie placed her hands on the top of her head. "I don't want to go to jail. I haven't lived to be nine-hundred."
Veronique moaned and lifted her head up just a bit. Then she dropped it down and continued to moan.
"Oh, she's not dead," noticed Skye, not so sympathetic about it.
"Oh, thank God..." said Madeline, putting her hands on her chest. "I guess."
"What if we put her back in bed and told her it was all a dream?" suggested Andrea.
"That sounds like something someone would say after attempting murder," responded Debra.
"Whatever. Man, Lyme disease is a mother."
"It can't be," said Lizzie. "My mother never poured ice down my bra."

Veronique the Brat (Chapter 3)

    The next day, the girls were back at Madeline's house, helping her take care of the sick Veronique. That day, they wore their hospital masks along with rubber gloves. Skye and Andrea wore some goggles just in case. The girls were running around in the kitchen, cooking soup as they could hear Veronique from upstairs screaming for soup and ringing a bell vigorously.
    "Man, she crazy," commented Andrea, shaking a bottle of paprika into the hot pot of soup.
    "I told you she was out of her mind," said Madeline as she chucked black pepper into the pot.
    "No, you didn't," said Skye, opening the top cabinets. "You said that she had P.M.S."
    "It's the same thing, Skye."
    "Well, you should've said she got P.P.M.M.S.S."
    "What's that?" asked Lizzie.
    Skye didn't respond. She just rolled her eyes.
    "Soup!" screamed Veronique from the bedroom. "Where's my soup?"
    "Why does she gotta be so loud?" questioned Andrea.
    "Is the soup almost done?" Madeline asked Debra.
    "Yeah, it is just about done," answered Debra, stirring the soup on the stove with a wooden spoon.
    Skye grabbed a white bowl and placed it on top of a silver tray. Debra turned off the heat of the stove. She picked up the pan by the handles and carefully poured the soup into the bowl.
    "Spoon!" shouted Madeline.
    Lizzie pulled out two drawers from the counter. One of them had eating utensils so she grabbed a spoon from that drawer.
    "Spoon," Lizzie repeated.
    She passed it to Skye and Skye stuck it in the bowl. She picked the tray up by the handles and began carrying it out of the kitchen. She walked upstairs, hearing Veronique's hollers for soup getting louder and louder. She walked as fast as she could down the hall then entered the bedroom.
    "Where's my soup?" Veronique screamed, ringing a handheld golden bell.
    "Here's your soup," said Skye, walking over to the bed. She laid it down on the space of the bed right next to Veronique.
    "I don't like that kind of soup."
    "But you were screaming, begging for soup."
    "Yeah but I don't like that kind of soup."
    Skye picked up the spoon, getting some soup in it. "Listen, just taste it and maybe you'll change your mind."
    "No, I don't want to."
    "Just eat it, Veronique." Skye stuck the spoon in Veronique's face.
    Veronique buried her face in the pillow. "No!"
    "Veronique, come on."
    The girls shouted at each other, spatting different arguments at the same time, with Skye trying to force the spoon into Veronique's face. Eventually, Veronique swatted the spoon out of Skye's hand, spilling a bit of soup on the bed. Then she pushed the tray off, spilling hot vegetable soup all over Skye's clothes. Skye stood up and gasped from the tingling, scorching pain overcoming her stomach and legs.
    "Oh!" Skye shuddered. "Oh, I'm gonna kill you, you crusty croissant."
    Andrea entered the room, holding a box of tissues, right when Veronique pushed the soup on Skye's body. So she was just in time to run up to Skye and hold her back by the arms. Skye struggled a little bit, tensing up with anger and ache.
    "Hey, hey, hey," said Andrea. "What's going on?"
    "Are you kidding?" said Skye, opening her hands. "That little gremlin spilled soup on me. I cannot feel my legs right now."
    "You barely have legs, stubby," commented Veronique.
    "Now she's calling me short. Let me at her, Andy! She's calling me short."
    "You've been short," reminded Andrea. "It's not much of a surprise. Why don't you just go downstairs and help the girls with the soup? And remember: this is all for the money."
    Skye freed herself from Andrea's grip. "Fine," she said with a strong look. She began to walk away. "My money better come with three zeros. Three!" She exited the bedroom.
    "Hey, Dora," said Veronique.
    Andrea looked at her. "It's Andrea. Yes?"
    "Did you get my tissues?"
    "Of course, I did." Andrea placed the box in Veronique's hands.
    "They're not pink."
    "I know. They were out of the pink tissues."
    "Then why did you get me white?"
    "Because they were out of the pink tissues."
    Veronique threw the box in Andrea's face. Andrea caught it but it still hit her. "You better go to another store and buy me pink tissues!" Veronique demanded. "And while you're at it, buy some pink toilet paper. I refuse to use the white toilet paper in the bathroom but I need to wipe my derriere."
    Andrea muttered to herself while walking away, "You need to wipe your face. That's where your actual derriere is."

Veronique the Brat (Chapter 2)

Later that day, the girls made their way over to Madeline's house so they could meet her cousin, Veronique, from Quebec. Debra got into Madeline's car after school so they could get there together. Skye hitched a ride from Andrea so Lizzie drove with nobody else in her car. Madeline let everybody into the empty mansion and made them wear hospital masks which were resting in a box on the living room table. They all walked upstairs and made it to Madeline's room. She opened the door and the girls caught a glimpse of a girl resting in Madeline's huge royal-like bed. The girl had long, red hair with an orange sheen and grassy green eyes. She was pasty-faced and wearing a hospital mask along with pink, elephant-printed pajamas. She was trying to sleep, pushing the pink, glittery covers up to her neck. She opened her eyes and groaned when she heard the door open.
"How is it going, Veronique?" asked Madeline, muffling through the mask.
"I'm in pain, you floozy," Veronique almost mumbled.
"Nice to see you, too."
"Madeline, I don't want to see people."
"Relax. These are my friends. They hardly see you."
"Mmm..."
"We're here to help," said Lizzie, perky as always.
"Good 'cause I need it."
"Is there anything you want, Ronnie?" asked Madeline.
"I want to go to sleep. But since you guys are here, can I get some medicine?"
"Sure, anything you want," responded Skye. "As long as you have money." She walked out of the room to go to the bathroom.
"Can someone take her temperature?" requested Madeline, pulling out a thermometer from her back pocket.
"I'll do it," volunteered Debra, taking the thermometer.
She sprinted towards the bed and kneeled before Veronique.
"Say 'ah'," she kindly demanded.
Veronique took off her mask and opened her mouth wide.
"Ahhh...." she uttered.
"Don't breathe on me now," demanded Debra.
Veronique stopped making a sound but kept her mouth open. Debra stuck the thermometer under Veronique's tongue. Veronique sucked on the thermometer as the bohemian stood up.
Skye came back with a little orange container of white pills. "I believe this is Veronique's since it got her name on the label."
"Give it to her," Madeline quietly commanded.
Skye walked over to the bed and stood next to Debra. She handed Veronique the pills which she held for a while. Debra took the thermometer out of her mouth and checked the temperature on the tiny screen.
"Dang!" she exclaimed. "This says one-hundred-fifty-six degrees!"
Madeline groaned.
"How did you get Lyme disease by the way?" asked Skye.
Veronique twisted the cap off of the container. "I was vacationing in France and got attacked by a deer tick. When I came home, I was cold and hot at the same time." She shook the container over her hand until two pills fell in her palm. She stuck the medicine in her mouth and swallowed it dry. "And what's crazy is that I was talking to a guy when I got bit. That's what I get for messing with French candy, you know what I'm saying?"
Skye laughed. "So how much money did it take for you to go to France?"
"Skye!" called Madeline.
"What? I want to know."
"You're very pretty, Veronique," remarked Lizzie.
"Thanks," Veronique responded.
"Maybe one day, when you're not diseased of Lyme, I can do your makeup."
"I would like that."
"This 'taking care of Veronique' isn't so bad, Maddie," said Andrea.
"You didn't even do anything yet," said Madeline.
"That's why it's not so bad."
"I think I might like you guys," admitted Veronique. "Madeline has been a pain. The whole time I've been here, she kept saying, 'Don't throw up in my bed. Don't throw up in my bed. Don't throw up in my bed.'"
"Sorry I don't want vomit all over my Michael Amini sheets," said Madeline, crossing her arms.
"You need to stop being a she-devil."
"Just don't throw up in my bed."

Veronique the Brat (Chapter 1)

Madeline plopped down at the lunch table at her usual spot. She groaned and dropped her face on the table. The girls looked at her for a while before one of them said something to her.
"Is something wrong, Maddie?" asked Lizzie.
"Something is obviously wrong," said Andrea. "Madeline has super huge bags under her eyes."
Madeline shot up. "I don't have any bags!"
"What's up, Madeline?" asked Debra.
"Do I have bags?"
"I'll tell you later. What's up?"
"It's my cousin Veronique."
"From Quebec?" inquired Skye.
"Yeah. She's here."
"What is she doing in California?" questioned Debra.
"Torturing me."
"Why?" asked Lizzie.
"Veronique has Lyme disease."
"Ooh," uttered Skye softly.
"Oh no," said Lizzie. "Did she eat a lime and get sick?"
"No, Lizzie," Madeline replied. "Lyme disease is something you get from a tick."
"Oh, I guess that makes sense."
"Right. So because of it, Veronique's house is quarantined. Until it becomes sanitary, her parents sent her off to my house to stay for a while."
"Wait, your cousin's parents sent their diseased daughter to your house?" questioned Skye.
"She's wearing a mask and uses hand sanitizer every fifteen minutes."
"Well, that makes it so much better."
"My parents take care of her when I'm at school and they go to work right before I come back. So every time I go home, I have to check up on her."
"What if we help?" suggested Lizzie.
"Uh-uh," Skye uttered before sipping her can of soda.
"I don't know if I want you guys helping me," said Madeline. "I mean she has Lyme disease and P.M.S."
"I love you, Madeline, and every person a part of you," admitted Skye, putting her drink down, "but I ain't getting sick over nothing. I want to be able to live until I'm at least sixty-nine."
"That's specific," said Debra.
"Well, David Bowie made it to that age so..."
"I can't believe I have to take care of Veronique for God knows when," complained Madeline. "I have to take care of myself, too, you know. Plus, Veronique or her parents could have practically hired some nurses or something. She did bring, like, thirty-thousand dollars with her."
"Thirty-thousand dollars?" repeated Andrea.
"Yeah. Thirty or forty."
"She's rich?" asked Skye.
"Practically, yes."
"Oh, then we're helping. No question about it."
"Yeah, I'm in," said Andrea.
Debra and Lizzie nodded and smiled.
"You guys are pigs," scoffed Madeline.
"Well, this piggy needs to go to the market," said Skye, "so she can buy some bling. Don't you blow my house down. It won't even go down. It'll be made of pure marble. Or whatever Heidi Montag put in her boobs."