For the first time in Lucy’s life the world was totally primed for her to spill all the beans she had, and fast. She’d been working all day to ensure that she’d finish her article before someone tried to convince her to keep quiet. But Lucy was done with lies once and for all. Eat slugs, secret-mongers!
She rubbed the dryness out of her eyes and typed on:
As the Nu Co. factory kerplooied into the crater, Mr Fisher’s angry purple face looked like it was about to explode into a zillion pieces. He fought like a badger and lost, and Nu Co., as we know it, is no more. Once again, the mysterious Pretenders of Sticky Pines had escaped Fisher’s Nucralose of Doom. But though the lives of countless shapeshifting weirdos had been saved, the factory was dustified beyond repair.
There’s still tons left to learn about these incredible beings. Who are they? What do they want? Where did they come from? What are their powers? And do they really like candy as much as it seems? But two undeniable TRUTHS remain: one, many of our friends and neighbours (and possibly pets?) are actually extranatural transmutational beings of unknown origin; and, two, by playing with forces he doesn’t understand, Mr Fisher is putting Sticky Pines, and possibly the whole world, at risk. He must be stopped, before it’s too late.
That’s it. She smacked her hands. It’s ready. She attached the document to an email – subject line: “FRONT-PAGE BONANZA” – and sent it off to Gertie Lee.
“Why do you look so triumphant?” said Miranda Sladan, watching her daughter from behind the kitchen island. “You’re still grounded, you know.”
“I know,” Lucy sang. But not for long. She was pretty sure that making the front page of every single newspaper in the universe would counteract the trouble she was in for getting home “later than your father or I thought possible to even dream”.
Following the undeniable and irreversible destruction of the Nu Co. factory, Mr Fisher had unceremoniously dropped off Lucy, her bike and the metric ton of dust they were covered in at the end of her driveway. He’d driven off without a word. Lucy was pretty sure he’d only offered her the ride in the first place because she’d helped save his life. It seemed a fair enough trade.
Lucy’s parents had greeted her at the door with equal parts anger and relief. They’d asked her where she’d been and if she had felt the earthquake. Lucy had intended to tell them everything that had happened, but she’d started with, “I saw the Nu Co. factory fall into a giant hole in the ground,” and the conversation quickly got out of hand. Her statement seemed to confirm a rumour her parents had heard, which sent them into an increasingly upsetting series of phone calls. After that, Lucy decided it might be best for them to read about what really happened on the front page of the school paper before the onslaught of TV interviews began.
She checked her messages. There was one from Milo: “Did you finish the article?”
Lucy typed a response: “i just hit send.”
Three dots appeared in the message window as Milo wrote back. “Did you tell the Whole Truth?”
“i put in EVERYTHING. start to finish. top to bottom. creatures to catastrophes:-O”
“:-O Good.”
“wanna meet up at Buck’s tomorrow?”
“I would, but my dad and I are heading up to Vancouver for a couple days. We can grab a shake when I get back!”
“deal.”
“:-)”
“:-D”
Willow jumped to her feet. “I’ve done it,” she beamed. “This is the last piece.” She inserted it into the puzzle dramatically. “Ta-dah!”
Lucy leaned over and examined the jigsaw, a near complete print of “The Starry Night” by Vincent Van Gogh. “There’s still a piece missing, Will.”
“What?” Willow bent down to look. There was indeed, another empty space on the board. She fell back on to the couch, sinking into its deep cushions. “Oh.”
“Check under the rug,” Lucy hopped over a sleeping Errol and sauntered into the kitchen. “‘Sup, señorita,” she said to her mother. She grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl.
Miranda scrutinised her sassy daughter as she dried the soup pot. “Did you finish your article?”
“Did I ever.” Lucy plopped down on a stool, chewing loudly.
“You’ve been so secretive about it. What angle did you take?”
Errol trotted into the kitchen and stared hopefully up at Lucy. She bit off a piece of the apple and tossed it into his open mouth.
“Well,” said Lucy, “I can’t tell you what it’s about, but I can tell you the title.”
Miranda stuffed the pot into the cupboard. “I’m all ears, maestro.”
Lucy placed each word on an imaginary banner with her hand. “Monsters, Madness and Machinations: The Mysteries of Sticky Pines Revealed.”
“That sounds very exciting. But I thought you were writing about Nu Co., not the supernatural.” Miranda wiped down the counter. “You could have written about the earthquake. Isn’t that enough excitement for you?”
“Everything is connected,” Lucy winked.
Miranda tossed the towel on the counter, clearly concerned for her daughter’s psychological well-being.
Silas shuffled into the room wearing his coat and boots. “I’m heading off to the Banana Slug Saloon. Some of the guys are there, commiserating. There’s a lot to discuss.”
“Understatement of the millennium,” Miranda sighed.
“Will Alastair Chelon be there?” asked Lucy.
“I dunno.” Silas hugged Lucy and smoothed her bushy hair. “I haven’t heard from him today.” He froze halfway to the door. “Gosh, I hope he’s okay. They did say the factory was empty when it went down, didn’t
