Tower Christian School Trumpeteer Never Ending Story
Episode 11 - February 2009
Continued by Jess Montgomery
It now consumed her entire face, and was probably spreading to mine. It was fear…
“You’re expecting me to believe that Mr. Collins is holding his own son hostage? Get real!”
“Not Anton!” Nick had a disgusted expression now. “Mr. Won! Since Anton won’t talk, they took Won to get it out of him. And whatever is in that memory card is clearly about him!”
I slumped into the couch. “Man, now I wish I hadn’t flicked the last card down that stupid dog’s throat…”
* * *
It was something straight out of a ninja movie: very weird. Nick made a distraction that caused me to turn; when I looked back, the middle section of the garage door spun, allowing the two of us to sneak inside the Collins’ garage safely. Again, Nick didn’t let me see how she opened the next door out of the garage and into the family room. Once we came inside, we were careful when passing open windows and the glass door that led to the backyard, just to make sure no one saw. Slipping passed, we entered the barren kitchen.
“’Kay, where’d the extra card be?” Nick asked urgently, staring about.
“Your turn to turn. I’ll ask questions to keep you patient.” That’s not something I should have said; at least not in that way. But Nick obeyed surprisingly relentlessly. “Shoot.”
“What does the pink paint mean?”
“Classified, but I’ll tell.” My eyebrows perked, but I still searched the opposite side of the room. Nick was getting strangely open.
“It was a warning to Principal Won. Different colors mean different things. Pink equals trouble – or something like that… next question?”
“That one’s fine for now; I have the card… and a note’s attached… sheesh, Anton went deep.” I read the note. It made no sense. I repeated it aloud for Nick. “The proof is in the pudding. Bedroom.”
* * *
“If I told you once, I told you a thousand times that the proof is not literally in the pudding!” Nick nearly had a fit as I tried opening a metal pudding can back at her house. I hadn’t seen pudding come in metal before. Whatever.
“You’ve only told me 42 times so far.” All she did was stare at me, real hard. “I can count you know. Do you have a chain saw I can use on this thing?”
Nick opened a drawer by the stove and pulled out a steak knife. “Use this.” Grabbing the knife, I pried it under the can’s lid. “What makes you think there’s proof in that?”
“It was the only thing left in Anton’s room.” Crack! “Sweet, I got it!”
I turned the can upside down and shook; instead of pudding spilling out all over the counter, a printed picture on plain thin paper drifted toward the floor. Nick grabbed it mid-air before I could set the can down and do it myself. She studied the picture. Her forehead tensed and her voice trembled. “What’s in the card the note came with?”