Alex in Wonderland

by Simon James Green

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Morning!” I said to Kendra as I headed out of the front door the following morning. It was relaunch day, the sun was shining, and despite my Bella-based guilt (which I was definitely going to deal with), things were looking up. “How are you?”

  “Shattered,” Kendra said. “I was just drifting off to sleep last night when you slammed through the door at god knows what time.”

  Eleven p.m. to be precise. I mean, really?!

  “I’m very sorry.”

  Kendra looked me up and down. “Relaunch day, isn’t it?”

  “Uh-huh!”

  “I admire how you’ve thrown yourself into this project, Alex.”

  I smiled. Finally! A compliment! “Thank you!”

  “I mean, it’s futile, but I still admire it.”

  Oh.

  “Not everything is worth saving, Alex,” she told me. “Wonderland, that greasy spoon café—”

  “My parents’ marriage.”

  I wasn’t sure why the things I normally only ever thought were now things I was actually saying out loud, but there we were. And besides, she was pissing me off.

  Kendra took a deep breath and stared at me. “Hope it goes well.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.” And made a swift exit.

  “Oh my actual god, are you smiling?!” Efia said as she walked up to our bench on the promenade.

  “For you,” I said, handing her a takeaway cappuccino. “And I have muffins too.”

  Efia’s eyes widened. “Did you get laid or something? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Perhaps Ben is taking me swimming …”

  “Yes?”

  “… to some secret spot he knows…”

  “Oh my god!”

  I shrugged. “I mean, it’s probably nothing. Plus, he’s still seeing Bella, so it definitely isn’t a date or anything. Still, it has made me very—”

  “Horny.”

  “Happy,” I corrected her.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “OK, and what you said too, I guess,” I added. “I went for pizza with Caleb, and Ben and Bella were there as well.”

  “Ben got jealous,” Efia said. “I knew it!”

  “I dunno, maybe a bit. Caleb laid it on pretty thick.” I chuckled. “He’s hilarious.”

  “Caleb seems like a nice guy,” Efia said.

  My ears pricked up. I had offered to do some digging for Caleb, and here was my chance. “Yeah, he is. Really nice. Top bloke!”

  “Why are you being weirdly enthusiastic? That’s very unlike you.”

  “Huh? No. I’m just saying. So you think he’s nice?”

  Efia stopped in her tracks. “What’s going on?”

  I blew my cheeks out. “Nothing.”

  “Alex. What is going on?”

  It took three seconds of her staring to break me. MI5 material, I am not. “I think he likes you.”

  Efia rolled her eyes. “Oh my days.”

  “He’s a nice guy, Efia. Really nice. He’s really sweet and romantic and quite caring.”

  Efia shook her head. “I don’t need the distraction. I want to focus on my studies for the next two years.”

  “Everybody needs somebody,” I said.

  “No, they don’t, Alex. Some people are quite happy by themselves. And me, I don’t really mind either way. I’m not against it, per se, but I’m not actively pursuing.”

  “OK,” I said. “What shall I tell him?”

  “Has he asked you to ask me out?”

  “Hmmmm – not exactly. More to test the water. Dip my toe in, and report back.”

  Efia’s eyes narrowed. “You keep your toes to yourself, mister. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Oh no, don’t say I said anything!”

  “I won’t!” Efia chirped. She ushered me off the bench. “Come on, we’ve got a relaunch to make happen.”

  Walking past the Bellevue Café reminded me. “Caleb told me something else last night.”

  “This’ll be good.”

  “No, Efia, seriously. The people that own the Bellevue are selling up and apparently it’s not even going to be a café any more. Caleb doesn’t know who too, but what’s the betting it’s going to be super fashionable and high end?”

  Efia grinned. “Maybe it’ll be another fancy restaurant you can wine and dine Ben in.”

  “What about the café though?”

  Efia shrugged. “Alex, it’s not that great. They can’t even make good coffee. And if Caleb needs a new job, maybe he can come and work at Wonderland next year, with us. Assuming we get this relaunch right.”

  “Oh, that’d be nice,” I said.

  “There you go. Not all change is bad.”

  “Caleb looks good in Speedos, by the way,” I muttered, trying to subtly plant good things about him in Efia’s mind.

  “Oh wow…”

  “Exactly. That’s kind of what I wanted to say, but it would have made things weird.”

  Efia gave me serious side-eye. “Alex, can you just please not?” She nodded towards the entrance of Wonderland, where a number of people were already waiting to come in. “That’s what I was ‘wow-ing’ about. An actual queue of people waiting to come in! I think this scheme of ours might just pay off!”

  We knocked on one of the locked glass doors at the entrance and Ben emerged through the unlit gloom the other side to let us in.

  “Hey,” he said, holding the door open for us, then locking it back up.

  “A queue of people!” Efia beamed.

  “Right?!” But something in Ben’s face didn’t look so excited or pleased.

  “What’s up?” I asked him.

  Ben glanced at me, then handed Efia an envelope. “This.”

  Efia pulled a scrappy piece of A4 paper out of the envelope and unfolded it. It was blank, except for one typed sentence right in the middle:

  Sounds like there’s a BAD EGG at Wonderland

  My throat tightened. The business with the golden egg wasn’t actually public knowledge. In the end, the mother had been placated through Maggie giving the child armfuls of free stuff and Bella stepping in to calm everyone down with her gentle, measured voice. The only people who knew what happened were the staff and any customers who were around at the time.

  “Oh my god,” Efia muttered. “It’s the same person, isn’t it? Whoever sent this note planted the egg?”

  “Looks that way,” Ben said. “I’m taking this to Maggie. I know she wasn’t interested before, but I think this changes things.”

  “Mm, fascinating,” Maggie said, after we’d finished relaying the evidence to her. She shut her eyes and was perfectly still, a look of serenity of her face.

  “Um … Maggie?” Ben said, after a long-enough awkward pause.

  She opened her eyes. “Hm? Oh, sorry, I was just imagining myself on a Spanish island, away from all this crap.” She smiled at us.

  “Maggie, you do see that this almost certainly means the culprit is someone who works here?” Ben said. “It’s someone who knew the booby-trapped egg had already been, well…”

  “Laid?” I offered.

  She took a long drag of her e-cigarette.

  Ben held his hands out, palm upwards in a gesture of Well?!

  Maggie blew out a plume of menthol steam. “Is everything ready for the relaunch?”

  I think we all nearly screamed in frustration and Efia definitely did.

  “Listen,” she said. “I hear what you’re saying, but right now, the relaunch is what matters. Let’s bring the punters back and see the money start rolling in. That’s what we need. Whichever little joker is behind these … pranks, I’ll find them, and then I’ll deal with them. Let’s all get on. Now!”

  We all turned and started filing out, it being perfectly obvious that Maggie wasn’t up for discussing any of this.

  “Oh!” Maggie suddenly shouted. “One last thing for you all – a little something by way of a thank-you – I’ve taken the liberty of buy
ing you all tickets to the pool party at Splash Down! tomorrow night.”

  Everyone turned back. “Really?!” Efia said.

  “The least I can do for all your extra work. I do appreciate it. So, this is me, saying thank you. I hope you all have a great night – relax, let your hair down. Don’t drink or do drugs. Actually … do what you like, what do I care?”

  We all moved forward to hug her at the same time, which she tolerated for about four seconds, before pushing us all away. “All right, get on with it!”

  We all headed back out again, buzzing with excitement that we’d be going to the party.

  “Alex?” Maggie said. “A word.”

  I sighed and closed the door behind the others.

  “Well?” she said.

  I assumed she was asking about Ben. “He’s taking me swimming.”

  Maggie nodded. “Progress.”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged. “But it took such an extraordinary effort to get to this point, I’m really not sure things can go much further. And like everyone says, I shouldn’t push it by appearing too keen, so I don’t know what to do.”

  “You have to feel it, Alex.”

  I looked at her like, WTF?

  “You’ll know, when the moment comes,” she said.

  Since I’d never even kissed anyone, I really wasn’t sure I would. As it turned out, like so many of the things Maggie said, she was bang on the money.

  When I walked out on to the main floor, it had all come alive. The lights, the music, and considering it was only ten a.m., the place was buzzing. It looked like the relaunch plans had worked. My phone vibrated with a message from Tyler Phillips:

  Hi Alex, Breeze FM have confirmed they’ll attend, plus assorted bloggers, and the local paper guys who are bringing a photographer too. Will try to drop by myself at some point. Best of luck for today! Tyler.

  “We’ve got plenty of press coming, thanks to Tyler,” I said as the others came up to me.

  “Ah, brilliant,” Ben beamed. “Nice one, Alex.” He gestured for everyone to come round. “So, guys, this is it…”

  Oh good, Ben was going to do one of those team pep talk things. I’d never been part of a team before, so this was pretty exciting for me.

  Ben huddled us all closer together. “Charm the pants off the journalists, make the punters happy.” He lowered his voice. “We know there’s an enemy in our midst, so keep your eyes peeled. Anything looks off, anything at all, we make sure we tell each other. I’m assuming there’s more of us than there is of them, we can manage this.”

  “GO, TEAM!” I said, because I thought that was the appropriate time to say that. Sadly, it wasn’t.

  “This is for Wonderland. For Maggie,” Ben said. “She’s a tricky old thing, but we love her, and I think, in her own peculiar way, she kind of loves us. So let’s make this work.”

  “GO, TEAM!”

  “We can show everyone that Wonderland does have a place in Newsands,” Ben continued, ignoring me. “And Maggie deserves that, after all the years of work she’s ploughed in.”

  I nodded, solemnly.

  “GO, TEAM!” Ben shouted.

  “YAY!” I replied, giving everyone a high five. I liked this team business very much.

  Efia and Bella scooted off to intercept the journalist and photographer from the local paper, and Ben went to man the Roswell Experience. Kem emerged from Eve’s tarot booth as I passed by. “Reckon this tarot shiz is true?” he said to me.

  I shrugged. “I mean, I kind of hope not, because if it is, I’m doomed.”

  Kem laughed, even though I wasn’t joking. “Apparently ‘my fortunes do not lie in the place I’ve been looking’ so I’m ditching the fruits today and I’m off to play Storm Racer instead.” He glanced around at all the customers. “Whilst I can still actually get on it. Never seen so many people in the place, man!”

  I smiled, because it was true: the place had never been so busy. Happy people, spending money, enjoying themselves. It made my heart full. And then it sank a bit. Over by the main door, Efia was gathering the invited journalists and bloggers for a tour, just as resident troublemaker and machine-licker Billy, and his obnoxious mates, walked in – one of them with a Super Soaker strapped across his back. One thing we didn’t need on relaunch day, with so much riding on remedying our bad reputation, was some kid squirting water all over everyone and all the electronics.

  I took a breath and walked up to them. “Gentlemen,” I said.

  That stopped them in their tracks.

  I gave an incredibly courteous smile. “A fine morning for a contest, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yeah, whatever, mate,” Billy snarled.

  “You and me, Billy, on the game of your choice.”

  “Got no money,” Billy sniffed.

  “I’m paying.”

  “What do I get when I win?”

  “The satisfaction of knowing, once and for all, that I’m a total loser.” I grinned at him. “Unless, of course, you’re worried I’m not?”

  What looked like an evil grin played on his lips. “Dance Fusion X-treme,” he said.

  OK, I knew why he’d go for that. Dance Fusion is a two-player game where you compete to hit the correct pads on the base of the machine, in time with the beats of a music track. Billy had me down for a total dork with no eye-foot coordination and was making the assumption that because I was awkward and pretty quiet, it meant I couldn’t bust a move or two.

  Billy was wrong.

  I was much worse than that. I could barely coordinate my hand and mouth whilst eating.

  “Deal,” I said. “Best of three. No rematches.”

  Billy shrugged. “Won’t need a rematch, Bambi.”

  I grimaced, because I was pretty sure that was a direct reference to when I fell flat on my face every single time I tried to stand up on the ice rink last Christmas, and annoyingly, that’s something he clearly saw and remembered.

  His mates crowded round as we both stepped on to the machine and I let him scroll through the song options on the screen. I froze as he hovered over Paranoia Survivor Max, which is pretty much the toughest song in existence, coming in at around 290 bpm and over six hundred arrows. Luckily, the kid wasn’t that much of an idiot, and he scrolled past it, selecting “Move Your Feet” by Junior Senior instead. I inserted two pound coins in the slot, and I gripped the back bar with my hands, before noticing he wasn’t and taking them off again. OK, he was a pro with great balance, I was probably screwed, but I was just gonna go through with this. We were off.

  We both mucked up the first few moves, but within a few seconds he’d found his rhythm and his feet were darting over the platform in pretty much perfect synchronicity with the arrows. Every time I glanced across, his life bar was topped up and the screen was ablaze with “PERFECT!” and “GREAT!” messages. Meanwhile, I was literally clomping around like Frankenstein’s monster. Zero grace. Nothing nimble or swift about me. I was a mess. But I dug in, and by halfway through I was marginally better, although that might just have been a hallucination based on lack of oxygen reaching my brain. Point was, I was still in the game, and I was actually now getting a few “PERFECT” and “GREAT!” messages myself. Billy’s mates were really into it – like, it’s a full-on competition, and they were cheering and shouting his name, and a couple of them actually took my side and were cheering me, and in the midst of all this, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Efia pass by with her little group of journalists and bloggers, and all they saw was a group of kids having the best time on the Dance Fusion machine. No one was swearing, no one was causing trouble, we were all just laughing and cheering and enjoying it. And I’d done it, I’d actually resolved a situation by myself, and it didn’t go wrong. I didn’t care that I was blatantly going to lose this match, and the next two – I had sorted this. Me. For Wonderland.

  He won the first one, by some margin. “Need a piss,” he said, heading off towards the customer toilets.

  “Be back soon!” I called aft
er him. “Best of three!”

  “Sure, sure.” He shrugged.

  I had a quick flick through the song choices whilst he was gone – if I picked something I was at least vaguely familiar with, and with fewer steps, maybe I could win the next one.

  Moments later, this piercing, crazy-loud bell started ringing, and beating Billy became the least of my worries.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  All the customers we’d worked so hard to get into the place were streaming back out again, as the fire alarm continued to ring. On the plus side, there appeared to be no obvious signs of smoke or flames. But on the bad side, the invited journalists were observing all this. Still, these things happen and hopefully—

  “HELP! HELP US!”

  The strangled, plaintive cries were coming from the Mirror Maze.

  “WE CAN’T GET OUT!”

  I locked eyes with Ben and we both darted over to the maze entrance. We’d only entered the first section when the problem became clear. Ben was pushing one of the doors that was meant to open, only it was stuck. “What the hell?” he muttered.

  Ben gave the door another couple of firm shoves, then rammed it with his shoulder, the door splintering open into the next section. “WE’RE GONNA GET YOU OUT!” Ben shouted to the trapped customers.

  But then Ben tried the next door that was meant to open, and that too wouldn’t budge. When he glanced back at me, he was pale. “Alex? This isn’t right,” he said.

  A cold shiver ran through me. I knew it wasn’t. One door was not entirely unlikely, given how ramshackle Wonderland was. Two was looking like it was deliberate.

  Ben shoulder-barged the second door, which also splintered open into the third section. The doors weren’t hard to open if you knew which sections were doors, but no way would a customer know that. Ben turned to me. “Those two sections are the ones that lead out of the maze – if you can’t get through them, you’re basically stuck in here,” he said.