Chapter 13
A Ticking Clock
It was obvious now that the explosion was indeed the class project, or they would have been warned away. Amanda wondered at the faculty’s judgment. It seemed that blowing up a building with a bunch of cars in it was a pretty dangerous stunt. What if someone had been inside or nearby? In addition, how could they be sure the debris was safe to explore? In their haste, she, Simon, Ivy, and Nick hadn’t even considered the possibility that what was left of the roof might fall in or some beam dislodge and knock them on their heads. Nor had they followed crime scene investigation procedure. The evidence might be completely worthless by now.
To make matters worse, some of the other students had lodged a complaint against them. The Wiffle boy seemed to be the ringleader. Since that first day he’d harassed Amanda he hadn’t let up, but had seized every opportunity to give her grief, always staying on the right side of the rules so she couldn’t report him. Now he and his nasty little friends were claiming that Amanda and her friends had tainted the evidence and had convinced Thrillkill well enough that he’d sent them to detention.
Of course what they’d done had been beyond foolish. But now that it was over and they were okay, Amanda thought it was well worth the price because she’d discovered something no one else had seen. She hadn’t said anything to the others yet. She was turning her find around in her mind. But on their way out the door to the garage she had seen some pink powder, and on the way back it was gone.
She wondered if she should tell anyone. She wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea to mention anything just yet. It might be something so trivial that they’d laugh at her, although no one had done that so far. But her primary reason for keeping the information to herself was that she wanted to be certain. If she was going to be a great detective, she’d better investigate more and sort things out properly before bringing them to others. No need to waste everyone’s time, and besides, that would be part of her job.
Of course the problem was that she didn’t know what she was looking for. The kids wouldn’t take the explosions and fires class until next term, so they had no background from which to work. Did Thrillkill really expect them to figure out where the explosion had come from cold like that? The man was infuriating. Unless . . . of course! The Internet. No, wait. Everyone would be looking there. She needed something better. An expert! She’d interview the firemen who’d come to the school. Or not. If anyone else thought of that, it wouldn’t be special and besides, were the firemen going to talk to all the kids individually?
And then it came to her. At first she was horrified when she realized she’d neglected to write back to Darius Plover and thank him for his help. Then she decided he was so nice he might understand how busy she’d been and not be mad at her. It was worth a shot. She’d do it right away, although she did feel a pang of guilt. If the teachers wouldn’t answer substantive questions about the project, was it fair to ask someone else? Of course it was! She was supposed to be resourceful. That’s what Thrillkill wanted. If she were a real detective she’d find stuff out any way she could. And she just happened to know an expert.
Dear Mr. Plover,
Thank you so much for your extremely helpful message. I am so sorry for the delay.
I have another question for you. I hope I’m not taking too much of your time, but your advice has been invaluable, and you are the world’s most respected action film director.
I am trying to find out about explosions. Don’t worry, I don’t want to create one. I would just like to know how to investigate one. Theoretically, of course. Just one teensy hint would be wonderful.
I don’t want to pry, but I would love to hear about what you’re working on if you want someone to talk to.
No, cross that out. What a dumb thing to say. Why would he want to talk to her about his work? Mmmm, how about this?
I would like to reciprocate for your kindness, so if you ever need—
Need what? What could she possibly give him that he didn’t have or couldn’t get from someone better?
Drumming her fingers on the desk, Amanda thought that maybe she should just close the letter and not try to be fancy. Then she got an idea.
I would like to reciprocate for your kindness, so if you ever need a tween’s perspective on your films, please do not hesitate to ask.
Thank you very much.
Sincerely,
Amanda Lester, Filmmaker.
It wasn’t Shakespeare but it would do. She hoped he’d answer quickly. On the other hand, what was she thinking? She had no reason to expect him to answer at all. She’d better look on the Internet. Everything was so unreliable there, but at least it would be a start. She’d do that as soon as she got out of detention.
When she got to class she looked over at Nick. What was he thinking about the explosion? He’d gotten the worst of it, getting caught in that smoky garage while the roof was falling down. He was lucky to be thinking at all. She was so glad nothing had happened to him.
Maybe she could help him. He looked like he needed it. Should she tell him about Darius Plover? Despite the fact that Ivy was almost her best friend at this point, she didn’t want to tell her. It was too personal. But Nick would appreciate it. He was a filmmaker just like her, and an actor to boot. Not that she was trying to impress him. That would be stupid. But a helping hand, that would be okay. He’d been so nice to her. Now she could reciprocate.
Suddenly she remembered what Ivy had said, that she could hear the difference between one part of the garage and another. What did she mean? Maybe they could get together and go over their findings, except that Amanda had no findings. Well, she’d better get some. It wasn’t fair to take advantage of Ivy like that. She’d contribute, and it would be something big.
Could there be a connection between the pink powder and the explosion? She didn’t see how, unless the pink powder was the explosive. Maybe there would be more pink powder in the garage. That was certainly something she could look for. Good. She had a plan.
When she saw Nick again later, he pulled her aside. “You look like you’re onto something,” he said.
“I believe I might be. Do you have some time to talk?”
“I’m all yours,” he said, making her blush. “Let’s go to the common room.”
Amanda Lester and the Pink Sugar Conspiracy Page 35