Amanda Lester and the Pink Sugar Conspiracy

In the lab Amanda realized she hadn’t the faintest idea what to do with the sample.

  “What do we do now? Do you have any idea?” she said. They were sitting at the usual gray metal bench, but they hadn’t gotten further than the basics there—fingerprints, hair, footprints, that sort of thing.

  “No, but how hard can it be?” said Nick. “We’ll research how to do it. We’ve got manuals.” He walked over to a bookshelf and started scanning titles.

  “The pink stuff might be dangerous,” she said.

  “I doubt it,” he said with his back to her. “This one looks good.” He pulled out a book and carried it over to the bench.

  “Why’s that?” she said. “I mean why don’t you think it’s dangerous, not why does that book look good.”

  “Because the gluppy things are eating it,” he said, skimming through the pages.

  “But it might be dangerous to humans.” She got up and peered over his shoulder. He had wonderful hair but it was almost going up her nose. She pulled back before it made her sneeze.

  “I don’t think so. Look, you said you saw some in the pantry,” he said, looking up.

  “Yes.”

  “And now we’ve discovered some kind of organism eating it.” He flipped a few pages. There were lots of pictures and diagrams.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you really think something found in a pantry that some biological entity is eating would be poisonous?”

  “Probably not, but—”

  “You’re too used to watching movies. This is real life. Trust me. It’s fine.” He went back to the book. “This isn’t the right one. I’ll find something else.” He walked back to the shelf, stuck the book where it came from, and resumed his search.

  “At least let’s find out what those things are first,” she said.

  “All right. That seems sensible,” he said, pulling out another volume.