Amanda Lester and the Pink Sugar Conspiracy

When she came to, she found herself onboard a police boat, wrapped in a blanket. She was so cold that the shivering practically made her bite her tongue. She tried to look around but everything was blurry.

  “Mmbmbf,” she said.

  “You’re fine,” said a policeman, who was leaning over her. “Luckily we got here at just the right moment.”

  “Ftr,” she said.

  “What’s that?” He cupped his ear.

  “My father. Did you get him?”

  “Is he the purple and yellow chap?”

  “Yes. Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. Or he will be, anyway. We got the dog too. And the blind girl.”

  Ivy and Nigel! Thank goodness they were okay. Was it Nigel who had nudged her?

  As she lay there, the last few hours flashed before her. The truck ride, the child she’d almost killed, the carjacking, the factory, the weapons, the school, Nick. Nick! He had to be dead now. He’d been too far underground to get out in time. Whatever kind of person he’d turned out to be, she couldn’t bear the thought. She started to sob uncontrollably. Stupid, stupid boy. In the end he hadn’t shown anyone anything. All he’d done was destroy himself. What a waste.

  She looked up. The sky was filled with smoke. Maybe he hadn’t accomplished nothing after all. Nick had put an end to the criminals’ sugar conspiracy and the terrible weapons they’d been building. Perhaps that was what he’d meant to do all along. Probably not, but why not give him the benefit of the doubt? Whatever or whoever he was, she’d never forget him.