“Son, I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”
Milo’s ears perked up.
“Sticky Pines has become more than a simple business venture. There are resources here you couldn’t begin to imagine, and if I’m successful, Nu Co. will be the only company in the world with access to them.” He caught Milo’s gaze. “I’m building us an empire, kid, mark my words. And once all the kinks are worked out of the operation, which will be soon –” he said it as a solemn vow – “you and I will take a nice vacation. Someplace warm, where it never rains.” He tapped Milo under the chin with his knuckle.
“Thanks, Dad,” said Milo. It all sounded great, but he had more pressing things to discuss. “Speaking of Nu Co.…” He set down the family photo. “You know how, that day at the factory, your Nucralose formula caused some people to … to –” Come on, just spit it out – “transform into big hairy monsters? Basically?”
Mr Fisher froze, his fork laden with quinoa. “Allegedly,” he said. “What about it?”
“Well,” said Milo. “That proves that it’s possible for a biological being to physically transform into something else, right?” He was pleased that he was sounding relatively coherent. “And if it can happen in one instance, it could happen in another. And maybe it could even happen without Nucralose.” Milo noticed that his father had turned ashen. “Dad? Are you all right?”
“Have you been talking to the Sladan girl?”
“Huh? Lucy?” Milo scratched his head. Why is he so obsessed with her? “What do you mean?” This conversation is not going the way I planned…
“Stay away from her,” Fisher demanded.
Milo was taken aback. His dad only used that tone when Milo was in trouble, which was rare, and he certainly hadn’t done anything to deserve it now. My dad seems physically incapable of listening to me tonight. I guess the Truth will have to wait.
“Sure,” said Milo, deflated. “No Lucy. No problem.”
“Good.” Fisher relaxed. His mind seemed to be very far away. “I have everything under control, don’t you worry. Nu Co. is close to solving this Sticky Pines problem once and for all.” He took a bite of steak and chewed.
Milo frowned. He had no idea what his father was talking about, but he didn’t like the sound of it.
“Was there something else you wanted to discuss?” asked Fisher.
Milo feigned a yawn. “I think I’ll head up to bed. It’s been a long day.” He gave his father a squeeze.
“‘Night, kiddo,” said Fisher, patting Milo’s hand.
Heading into the hallway, Milo glanced back to see his dad staring wistfully at the old photograph before returning it to his briefcase.
Milo made his way across the spacious living room, nowhere nearer to feeling sleepy than he had been an hour ago, and ascended a wooden staircase that looked like it was floating in space.
Serious Business
“Hello?” Lucy croaked into the cordless phone her sister had shoved in her face.
Willow yanked open the blinds and Lucy flinched as bright sunshine streamed into her small A-frame bedroom.
“Where’s my article, Sladan?” Gertie Lee was on the other line, gratingly business-like for a Saturday morning.
Wh–huh? Lucy blearily read the time on the alarm clock, which she had not set. “It’s eight a.m.” she groused.
Willow jumped on to the bed and started bouncing around her big sister, her pink hooded poncho mushrooming around her.
Lucy waved her away. Bleary-eyed, she propped herself up on an elbow and retrieved her glasses from the nightstand.
“You don’t come to club meetings and you don’t have a mobile,” said Gertie. “How am I supposed to yell at you for missing your deadline?”
Lucy caught her sister by the foot mid-bounce. The smaller Sladan landed on the mattress in a fit of giggles.
Somebody upped the sugar dosage at breakfast this morning. Lucy sniffed the air. Cinnamon rolls. Hallelujah!
“I’m still investigating.” Lucy rummaged through her laundry basket and pulled out a pair of jeans. “This story is hot as pop tarts. I’m gonna need some time.”
“You’ve had a whole week already,” Gertie sniped.
“This ain’t about spoiled milk in the cafeteria.” Lucy tugged a green jumper over her head. “There’s some seriously mega shenanigans going on at Nu Co.”
“What kind of shenanigans?”
Lucy tripped over Willow, who was crawling on the floor like a cat. “Knock it off, Will!” she barked. “Look, Gertie, when people read about what I saw last night, it will BLOW THEIR MINDS. We’re talking secret labs. Sabotage. Pink smoke.” Shapeshifting. “This piece is gonna be stratospheric, I guarantee it.”
“Pink smoke?” said Gertie.
Lucy caught her reflection in the full-length mirror, grimaced and patted down her bedhead.
“I need this juice ASAP,” Gertie insisted. “Nothing happens in November, outside of parent-teacher conferences and the inevitable controversy over Native American representation in the Thanksgiving pageant.”
Lucy grabbed her backpack and jumped over Willow on her way out to the landing. “At least give me till Monday.”
“Fine, but this better be front-page material, Sladan,” said Gertie. “I’m using this year’s Sentinel for my Stanford application, and I need AT LEAST six years of extreme extracurriculars.”
“You won’t be disappointed, Gertie. This one’s for the ages!” Lucy hung up without saying goodbye, like she’d seen reporters do in movies. She sidled into the kitchen, inhaling the sweet smell of cinnamon and butter.
Her mother looked up from her newspaper. “You’re up early.”
Silas checked the ceramic sun-shaped clock over the sink where he was doing dishes. “Whoa, it’s not even ten yet.”
Lucy grabbed a cinnamon roll from the baking tray, poured herself a pulpy glass of fresh orange juice and downed it in one gulp.
“Going somewhere?” Miranda eyed Lucy’s backpack.
“I’m on assignment for the Sentinel.” Lucy scarfed down her roll.
“How is the paper going?” asked Silas, drying his hands. “Did your editor like our interview with Alastair?”
“I’m still writing it up, but I know everyone’s gonna go mad for it,” Lucy winked. She
