Amanda Lester and the Pink Sugar Conspiracy

Before Amanda returned to her room she stashed her parka, scarf, and galoshes in a supply cupboard and pretended she’d been in the dorm the whole time. No one but her roommates and Editta were the wiser, but they did press her for news. She told them everything she knew except the part about seeing Nick and what he’d said about Professor Pickle being missing. She didn’t want anyone to find out that Nick had been AWOL, and she didn’t think such a silly rumor as Pickle having disappeared bore repeating. At least that was what she told herself.

  Ivy and Amphora were anxious to get out there and see for themselves. Editta wasn’t so sure.

  “I still think it’s bad luck,” she said. “The farther we stay away from it the better off we’ll be.”

  Amanda decided to put together a little investigation kit before going back to bed for the two hours left before their alarms would go off. She found a zippered bag she’d made in sewing class. In it she put plastic evidence bags, tweezers, cotton balls and swabs, string, rubber gloves, a nail scissors, a couple of ballpoint pens, a felt-tip marker, and a small notebook, as well as her charger. She could use her phone as a magnifier and light. Seeing what a smart idea this was, her roommates copied her, and after they had taken turns calming Nigel down they all went back to sleep.

  By the time she awoke at 6:30 the dorm was bustling. Most of the girls hadn’t been able to get back to sleep and apparently had been speculating about what was going on. Owla Snizzle down the hall was saying she was sure half the school had been blown up and they were trying to figure out what to tell the parents. Her roommate, Positiva Flickover, said it was probably negligence and that there would be lots of lawsuits. Across the hall, Prudence Starshine was explaining why it absolutely had to be the work of anti-capitalist anarchists, and her roommate said that it was definitely the IRA.

  Amanda didn’t know what to think. She knew that half the school had not been blown up, although she wasn’t sure if there had been damage to anything other than the garage. She had no idea if the explosion was an accident, although considering Professor Pickle’s disappearance, she didn’t see how it could be. If it wasn’t an accident, what was it? Foul play? By whom and for what purpose? The class project? It couldn’t be. What if someone had been killed? The teachers would never cook up a project that would kill people.

  When she got to breakfast she learned the Professor Thrillkill had called a special assembly. There, after a hurried meal of a soft-boiled egg and a slurp of tea, she found that all the students, all the teachers, and some of the staff were present, and everyone was jabbering at once. Once again the headmaster cleared his throat and again everyone fell silent.

  “You obviously know by now that there has been an explosion at Legatum,” he said. “First of all, let me reassure you that as far as we know there have been no casualties. I repeat: no one has been injured or killed.”

  There was an audible sigh of relief. It was as if the whole room had relaxed.

  “The explosion occurred in the school’s garage, which has been heavily damaged, along with just about everything in it. This is a terrible loss but we will recover. Yes, quite a few vehicles and their contents have been destroyed, but again, there has been no loss of life. For this we are very thankful.”

  Amanda had been right. Professor Pickle’s treasured Roadster had probably been totaled. Did that have anything to do with his disappearance?

  “We are most grateful to the Windermere Fire and Rescue Service for extinguishing the blaze in a speedy fashion. The school will be sending the department a generous gift and we encourage you to write notes of thanks. Please address them to Chief Fire Officer Iain Ducat.

  “Your parents will be officially notified and reassured that everything is under control. There is no need to contact them. That is all.”

  A hundred hands flew up. “Professor, is this the work of terrorists?” “Professor, is it true that one of the teachers is missing?” “Professor, are we still in danger?” “Professor, is this the class project?” Thrillkill peered over his glasses and simply said, “You are dismissed.”

  Amphora turned to Amanda and said, “He’s hiding something. I’ll bet it was criminals.”

  Ivy said, “No, it’s the class project. Look at how much he left out. He wants us to investigate.” She had a point. Unfortunately so did Amphora. It very well could have been criminals.

  “I told you,” said Editta. “Bad things come in threes.”

  “I don’t know,” said Amanda. “I’m going to have to reserve judgment until we investigate, which we should do as soon as possible. Hey, want to cut class?” Did she actually say that? After she’d already gotten in trouble for being late? The explosion must have affected her brain.

  “Definitely not,” said Editta. “Enough bad things have happened. That’s just tempting fate.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Ivy.

  “Me too,” said Simon as he walked up to the little conclave.

  “Amphora?” said Amanda.

  “I can’t decide.”

  “Come on. We have to know.”

  “I don’t think so. I think I should cover for you.”

  “Yes, good idea,” said Simon. “We need a beard.”

  “I’ll say,” said Amphora. “Look at that peach fuzz.”

  “Ha ha,” said Simon. “You wish. Look at this,” he said, pointing to the spot between his nose and mouth, which was absolutely smooth.

  “Come on. We have no time to lose,” said Amanda. “Amphora, if you would cover for us we’d be very grateful. Editta, please don’t worry. It will be all right. Simon, there’s no hair there. Now let’s go.”

  As they headed toward the garage, Amanda wondered if she should contact her parents. Maybe if they found out about the explosion they’d take her out of the school. If that happened, she could find out more from Ivy or Amphora, unless their parents took them out of the school too.

  With everyone in class there was little chance of being seen, unless some of the staff were about. There were two things to worry about, though: being missed from her observation class—if no one noticed, they really weren’t observant, were they?—and the possibility that Thrillkill and/or the fire department was investigating the explosion at that very moment. She knew that the headmaster would not be happy to see three of his first-years cutting class, and she doubted the fire inspectors would welcome the intrusion.

  But the group was in luck. When they got to the south door they could see that no one was hanging around. So much for Editta and her worrying. This was going to be easier than Amanda had expected.

  Simon opened the door and followed the others out to the garage. Debris was everywhere: wood, plaster, pieces of metal from the cars, glass, various bits of plastic, and paper, not to mention a huge amount of dun-colored dust. The roof was half gone and the doors had been burned such that the idea of a lock was laughable. The smells of charred wood and gasoline mixed with the dust and assaulted the kids’ nostrils, irritating their sinuses so badly that they had to cover the bottoms of their faces with their scarves. Nigel seemed particularly agitated, but there was no way to protect his nose.

  “Do you think it’s safe?” said Amanda.

  “Absolutely,” said Simon, charging ahead. He stepped on a piece of wood and it made a clattering sound. “Ouch!” He lifted his foot and rubbed it.

  “Really? Based on what?”

  “Based on the fact that there’s no yellow tape around the garage and no keep out signs.”

  “Ha ha,” said Ivy. “That’s quite an interesting conclusion. Good thing there weren’t any nails in that wood.”

  “Oh, right,” said Simon. “You can tell without looking. Good show, Ivy.”

  “Actually,” said Amanda, “he’s right. If this were a terrorist attack, they’d put tape around the outside. Thrillkill wants us to investigate. This is the class project!”

  “You know, you might be right,” said Ivy. “Let’s think about it.” She started patting her leg, possibly in time
to the wheels turning inside her head or the different drum she seemed to hear. In any case the motion seemed to help her think.

  “Think about what?” said Nick, coming from nowhere.

  “Ha ha,” laughed Amanda. “You too.”

  “Me too what?”

  “You’re cutting class too.”

  “Of course. You didn’t think I was just going to sit there and listen to old Sidebotham ramble, did you?” He looked pleased with himself.

  “No, of course not. The more the merrier,” said Amanda, motioning for him to join them. Simon gave her a dirty look. “Come on,” she said, ignoring him. “Let’s go inside.”

  This was easier said than done. Nigel did not want to go any closer to the garage despite his guide dog training, and it wouldn’t have been a good idea anyway, given that there were sharp pieces of this and that all over the floor. The smell was overpowering and it was obvious that he was uncomfortable. No one knew quite what to do, so they stood there doing nothing for a couple of minutes.

  Finally Ivy said, “You go. I’ll stay here with Nigel and listen.”

  “Are you sure?” said Amanda reluctantly. “I can stay with him.” And miss all the fun, but she did like Ivy and was crazy about Nigel.

  “I’m sure,” said Ivy.

  Relieved but feeling slightly guilty, Amanda made for the largest opening. Smoke was still rising from the wood and she covered her face again. Simon and Nick followed, but once inside each went a different way.

  Amanda was most interested in determining the explosion’s point of origin. She wasn’t sure how to do that but she thought she might be able to tell anyway. Maybe she’d find the remains of some device. She was just about to step farther inside when she heard Ivy call out. “Get out of there. Hurry!”

  “Why?” yelled Simon, his voice echoing.

  “Just do it!”

  Amanda and Simon scrambled out of the garage, practically tripping over the rubble. There was a lot of crunching and clanging and the dust rose in a ghostly cloud around them.

  “What’s up?” said Simon as they joined Ivy. He was covered with gray particles from head to toe, his glasses included. It was a wonder he could see out of them.

  “It isn’t safe. Come on, Nick,” yelled Ivy frantically.

  “What do you mean it isn’t safe?” said Amanda, who was as dusty as Simon and sneezing to prove it.

  “The roof is going to fall in,” said Ivy. “Nick!”

  “It seemed okay to me,” said Simon, who for some unknown reason wasn’t sneezing.

  “No, I can hear it,” said Ivy. “It’s going to fall any second.”

  “Eeeeeek!” yelled Amanda running back toward the opening. “Nick, get out of there!”

  Suddenly there came a loud cracking sound, then a series of even louder cracks in slow motion, and Amanda could see the roof start to collapse on the east side of the garage.

  “Niiiiiiiiiick!” she screamed, running inside.

  “Amanda, no!” yelled Ivy.

  As the roof fell in it kicked up so much dust that Amanda’s throat seized up and she could no longer call Nick’s name. She draped her scarf over her face and pressed on, keeping as far away from the east side as she could.

  Suddenly Nigel raced past her like a shot. “Nigel, NO!” she tried to scream, but he had already disappeared into the depths of the garage where junk was still falling in.

  Amanda didn’t know what to do. She could barely breathe, but she was so worried about Nick that she didn’t care. And now Nigel was probably dead too. Too. The word devastated her. She had already written Nick off as dead. What kind of a friend was she?

  What kind of a detective was she? How could she jump to conclusions like that? Where was the proof? Nick would not be dead until there was no more doubt, and there was plenty of that. Nigel too. She brightened.

  But she still couldn’t breathe, so she decided the best thing she could do was get out of the garage and wait. Waiting was the hardest thing. She’d never been good at it and she wasn’t sure she ever would be. No stakeouts for her, thank you very much. But now she had no choice. She’d just have to find a way to bear it.

  Ivy was in hysterics. Simon was doing his best to comfort her, but he seemed to be having little effect. He was holding her, towering over her by a foot, and patting her hair. Amanda could hear him say, “It’s okay, it’s okay” over and over. She didn’t know what to do so she joined the group hug, holding on as tightly as she knew how.

  It was her fault. She’d insisted on investigating, even though she knew she was breaking the rules. Not that she’d ever cared for rules of course, but maybe she should. If Nick and Nigel were dead . . .

  Suddenly she saw Ivy stiffen. “They’re alive!” she screamed. “I can hear them in there!”

  “Thank goodness,” said Amanda, letting go of her two friends and running toward the garage again. Then she heard it too—two voices hacking and coughing, one human, one canine, getting louder as they approached her. Suddenly Nigel appeared. He was so dark with soot that he looked like a black lab rather than a golden one, and his feet were bleeding. Following him was a bedraggled, equally sooty Nick, bending over as if in tremendous pain.

  “Nick!” Amanda screamed, catching him just in time to stop him from crashing to the ground.

  “Hello, luv,” he said. He sounded out of his mind.

  “Don’t talk. Just lie still and breathe.”

  “Look!” yelled Ivy. “Nigel’s okay. But his feet! He isn’t walking right. His steps don’t sound normal. Help, someone!”

  The dog was running around shaking himself and rolling on his back. His natural color was starting to shine through, but he was limping. Simon pulled off his jacket and started tearing it into pieces, holding it under his foot and yanking with his hands.

  “Nigel, sit still,” said Ivy. “Simon is going to help you.”

  “You hear all that?” said Simon.

  “Mais naturalment,” said Ivy. “Thank you, Simon.”

  Nigel was very obedient and stood as still as he could considering that his feet were all torn up. Simon carefully lifted each one and wrapped it in a piece of his jacket, causing Nigel to lose his balance repeatedly. Then he stepped back to admire his handiwork.

  “I say,” he said. “Maybe I should go into medical detecting. I seem to make a pretty good doctor. I’ll take him inside and wash his feet.”

  “Why not?” said Ivy. “You seem to have a knack for it. Thank you, thank you. You really made a sacrifice for him, tearing up your jacket like that.”

  She grabbed hold of Simon and planted a big kiss on the top of his dusty head, pulling him down so she could reach. Nigel just stood there with his tongue hanging out. He looked like he was smiling.

  Nick must have been made of stern stuff too, because in the time it took Simon to dress Nigel’s feet he had caught his breath and was standing up brushing off his clothes.

  “We thought we’d lost you,” said Amanda, tearing up.

  “Me? You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to get rid of me,” Nick said smiling through the dust on his face.

  “What happened in there?” said Ivy.

  Then they heard a familiar voice. “What’s going on here? What are you children doing out of class?”

  Thrillkill! This wasn’t good. All four of the scofflaws looked up. The man was carrying that hair dryer again. Amanda made a mental note to ask someone about that. It was downright weird.

  “All of you, go to my office and wait for me there. NOW!”

  Much the worse for wear, they toddled off to Thrillkill’s office. Suddenly Amanda realized what a risk Simon had taken. He was on probation, and now he might be expelled. What had she been thinking letting him cut class with her?

  As they walked down the corridors to Thrillkill’s office, Amanda apologized about twelve times. Simon kept telling her that this wasn’t her fault, he’d wanted to go, but she couldn’t stop. Editta was right. There was bad l
uck all around this place. How could she spend the next six years of her life here?

  When the headmaster entered his office, he ignored them and rummaged around in his file cabinet for a few minutes. At last he turned to glare at them, a thin file in his hand.

  “Miss Lester, Miss Halpin, and Mr. Muffet, you are to do two weeks’ detention. If I catch you cutting class again you will be put on probation. Mr. Binkle, you are suspended for two weeks. You may stay here at the school but you will not attend classes. Or, if you prefer, you may go home for those two weeks and return at the end. You’re lucky I’m giving you a choice. You don’t deserve it.”

  Although she knew Simon had crossed a line, Amanda thought this punishment was way beyond the seriousness of the crime, and she resented Thrillkill for his cruelty. He could do whatever he needed to without being so mean. This must have been the kind of thing he’d meant when he said there would be no coddling at Legatum.

  Well, if he wanted it that way, he’d get it that way. If it was so hard and dangerous being a detective, she’d take on anything that came her way, no matter how difficult or threatening it might be. She’d be the best detective the school had ever seen, way better than Thrillkill. What was so great about him anyway? She’d heard he was a specialist in locked room mysteries, but who cared about those? They were as antiquated as the plots in her mother’s books, not that she’d actually read any of them. She’d be a modern detective, going head to head with criminals who were more clever, savvy, and lethal than any that had come before.

  “Miss Lester, are you listening?” Her excursion into her own thoughts had blocked out Thrillkill’s voice. “I’ll thank you to pay attention. I was telling you and your friends that you never, EVER, just barge into a crime scene. You follow procedure so as not to taint the evidence. If this hasn’t been made clear to you in Professor Scribbish’s class, I want to know now. Has it?”

  Of course it had, and Amanda had completely forgotten. She should have known even without the class. She had certainly seen enough procedurals on film. In all the excitement her brain had gone floppy. Apparently so had everyone else’s.

  “No, sir,” she said. “It’s completely my fault. I forgot.” She looked down at her dusty feet.

  “And the rest of you?”

  “I take full responsibility,” said Nick. “I’m very sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t, Mr. Muffet,” said Thrillkill. It struck Amanda that his glasses were way cleaner than Simon’s at the best of times.

  Amanda glanced at Nick and Ivy. They were both dutifully serious, but she thought she could see a hint of amusement in Nick’s eyes, and Ivy’s mouth showed just a wisp of a grin. Amanda was grateful to Nick for taking the blame, but how could they be so amused when Simon might be thrown out of school?

  Then, after she had left Thrillkill’s office, it hit her. The man had never once taken them to task for investigating the explosion. All he seemed to care about was that they’d cut class to do it.