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-- TWENTY-NINE --
The Woes of Bob and Betty
Kew nodded solemnly. “There’s another one, Your Highness, Your Majesty. And this time, they really seem to mean business. This time, it’s directed at you, Your Highness.”
The Queen pursed her lips at the Guard and frowned, but said nothing.
The Prince steepled his fingers and followed his mother’s example, pursing his lips also, before opening his mouth to speak. “What does it say this time?”
Kew hesitated, and Ryan realised that this was bad.
“It’s alright. I can take it.”
The Captain’s brows furrowed. “Well … let’s just say you won’t be able to go out of the house until we’ve found whoever it is that’s sent these.”
The Prince scowled, and in his heart of hearts knew full well that that wasn’t going to happen. They could keep searching for the bastard who was doing this, but as for him staying in one spot … well … when pigs flew. “Who else knows about this one?” he asked.
“Nobody but the Guards. I sent faxed a copy to Australia as soon as we got hold of the letter.”
Ryan’s heart lightened a smidgeon, but backtracked what Kew said. “Wait, you said that this time, they meant business. How do you know?”
Kew sighed softly. “The final line of the letter states that this one seems to be … the last one.”
“So?”
“The last one before they … they kill you.”
“Oh.” Ryan felt his face pale in a very un-Royal-like manner. But he raised an eyebrow and smiled facetiously, saying, “But it means nothing, right? It’s just a letter … right?”
“It’s one of many letters, Your Highness. One of the cardinal rules of identifying who stalkers are is that if they write many letters, they mean business,” Kew answered with an apologetic smile.
“Oh,” Ryan repeated, feeling very small.
Queen Marguerite finally spoke. “What I don’t understand, Captain, is why it has taken you so long to figure out who this … this … this foul cockroach is.”
“Your Majesty—”
“You’ve been here for almost four months … and yet you produce nothing. No results.”
Kew pursed his lips. “Your Majesty, the first letter you received after your son’s shooting stated that all your children would be dead within the week. All of them. But it seems to me that they’re still alive, with not even a hair on their head hurt. That seems like excellent results to me.”
The Queen stood and walked to a window. “Captain Kew, you have to find out who this is. And soon.”
“Your Majesty,” Kew repeated in that same insistent tone, “we’re Guards, not detectives. We know how to handle cases like these, but inevitably, it’s not our number one priority. What is number one is the safety of your children, and in that job, I feel we have excelled.”
“Yeah, sure,” Ryan whispered to himself. He felt far from safe right now. He felt the opposite of safe. He felt vulnerable, and why that was … well, Ryan knew there were a number of reasons to add to that list. But there was a standout.
“I understand that, Captain,” the Queen continued from the window, oblivious to Ryan’s slip, “but I have never felt this … uneasy. And believe you me; I’ve been in this job for a long time.” She paused and sighed. “Not once have I felt like my life was in danger. But this time … it’s not only Nicholas’ life I fear for, but for everybody else I care about. If you’re right about this person being serious, then the presence of my fears must be understandable.”
Suddenly, Ryan felt obligated to stay indoors. For the meantime, anyway.
Kew only nodded silently, which was followed by a quick beep of his wristwatch. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, Your Highness—I have some people to contact.”
The Queen nodded, and continued to stare out of the window until the Captain closed the door of the study behind him as he left. Once Kew was out, she turned to her son.
She smiled gently and sat down next to him with a maternal gaze. “Nicholas, you have to promise me one thing.” She placed a small hand over her son’s.
“What’s that?”
“After this whole thing is over … after we find out whoever this person is … promise me you’ll stop being the source of all the stories we see on the tabloids.”
Ryan snuffed a laugh.
“I’m being serious, sweetheart. I love you very much, just as I love all your siblings … but it’s you I’m most worried about.”
“Why?”
“You’re very sensitive—”
“I am not!”
The Queen laughed. “Case in point, Nicholas.” She continued to smile. “Well, what I mean by that is that you wear your emotions on your sleeve.”
Ryan had to scoff again. “No I don’t. I know one person who doesn’t think that.”
The Queen smiled knowingly. “She’s different, yes?”
Ryan nodded.
“Well … have you ever thought that perhaps there’s a reason why it’s different for her?”
“Mother, I know I love her. And I told her that.” Ryan frowned. “But she left me anyway.”
The Queen shook her head. “All you teenagers think you know everything … but the sad truth of it all is that you don’t. You are so young!”
“What’s this got to do with it all?”
“Nicholas, listen to me. She left because she had things to deal with.”
“I could have helped her!”
“Yes, but she needed to deal with them alone. She seems a pretty independent girl, Nicholas, and she probably felt she needed to do this by herself. She owed it to herself, and her family.”
When her son didn’t reply, the Queen continued.
“There are many, many risks in her line of work, Nicholas. Wasn’t it your friend Jake that got shot? There are so many uncontrollable variables in what she does—she’s inundated with decisions to make every single day. And this decision was one she could control. When she said no, she made the decision to tie up loose ends and to close the chapter in one book before she opened another. When she said no, she took control of the way things could go.”
“She is a bit of a control freak,” Ryan conceded, remembering the instance when he was invited into her room—all the graphs, the noticeboards, the files in alphabetical order.
“She’s worked so hard to get to where she is now, and you asked her to make the hardest decision she’s probably ever made. To be with someone she cares about, or do what she owed to herself and to her job. Then there’s her family.”
“I am so confused.”
The Queen laughed. “I think what I am trying to say, and what you don’t get, is that Lee had two things pulling her back home: her family’s death, and her job. But there was only one thing pulling her away from you: that if she chose you, she’s abandoning the very thing that’s giving her purpose and the only thing that’s connecting her to her father, I believe.”
“She doesn’t talk about him much, though … I don’t even think they were that close.”
“Ah, but she became a Guard because he was a Guard—that’s what I was told. Put yourself in her position, Nicholas—would you give up something you’re doing for a good reason so quickly?
“It may have been romance for you, Nicholas, but for her, it was a whole conflict of emotions, and a war of choices that could affect everything in her entire life.
“So before you keep on resenting her, and picking up where you left off in your promiscuous ways, keep in mind that, underneath it all, she probably feels the same way about you, as you feel about her. But she’s pulling away from that because … she just can’t afford to show it.”
Queen Marguerite took her son’s head in both her hands and pulled it down softly. She kissed his forehead before standing and heading for the door.
Once at the doorway, the Queen paused, and turned around.
Ryan, sensing she wanted something, raised his eyebrows in a query. “What’s wrong, mother?”
“I wonder,” she said lightly, “have you ever thought about taking a vacation to Australia? I hear the weather is lovely this time of year.”
“Mother,” Ryan replied dryly, “it’s winter over there. I hear the weather’s questionable.”
The Queen shrugged. “I am merely suggesting an idea. When all this is over, perhaps we can all take a trip down there.”
Ryan took his turn to shrug. “Maybe.”
His mother smiled softly and walked off, the ivory Hermès scarf in her hair flying behind her.
Lee nodded, and momentarily glanced at the window to the weather outside. The storm was positively raging. All outdoor lessons were cancelled, angering the officers who taught, as the weather forecast indicated that the storm would last for the whole day, if not for the next couple of days. The trees bent in crazy angles—the ones with less sturdier trunks were almost at ninety degrees—and the driveways would have been flooded if it weren’t for the excellent irrigation and drainage system of the Academy.
“It all makes sense,” Lee said with a nonchalant shrug. In truth, the thought of capturing the criminal who was putting the Royal Family in danger—and if she was right, who was also responsible for what had happened to her own family—was making her blood boil.
General Barton leant back in her chair, her wise bespectacled eyes lost in contemplation. “Show me.”
Lee moved forward, and spread out all her evidence in front of her superior officer. Not a single word escaped her mouth as she let Barton explore every shred of information Lee had highlighted, circled, asterisked, and connected with numerous arrows. Smiling lightly, she was reminded of her orientation day program way back when she was just beginning at the Academy. She had circled, put asterisks near, and highlighted the one extra-curricular activity she’d had her eye on—Advanced Combat—back then, too.
“Do you see?” she asked, keeping mind to stop her voice from trembling.
“I see,” the General said ominously. “But I can’t believe it.”
“But—but I—” Lee stuttered, incredulous. “It’s right there! How can you not—”
The General shook her head. “No, you mistake me, I said, I can’t believe it, not that I won’t.”
Lee frowned. “Oh … okay.”
Her hands behind her back, Lee bit her lip and waited for further response. When General Barton said nothing, she spoke.
“General? What … what do you want to do now? Maybe we should contact Captain Kew …?”
Barton rubbed her temples. She leant forward a little to reach her intercom to her assistant. “Beatrice, could you please fax something over to Kew?” Beatrice, on the other line, gave a curt, “Yes ma’am,” before entering the General’s office to receive the papers. Barton sighed. “Alright. Now … thank you, Lieutenant. You may go.” General Barton looked down to the other folders on her desk, trying valiantly to focus on something else. The information that had just been disclosed to her was disconcerting, to say the least.
Lee frowned again, feeling uneasy.
Barton looked up, expecting to see the empty space of her office, but was surprised by the sight of Jacobs, who, for the first time the General could remember, disobeyed a direct order, albeit a small one, but an order from a superior officer nonetheless.
“Lieutenant Jacobs—is there anything the matter?”
“Uh … ma’am … is there anything else I could do?”
“Well …” Barton’s brows furrowed. “There’s nothing else we can do right now, Jacobs. We’ve done what we can.”
“But General Barton—we can’t just leave it there—”
“Captain Kew is going to handle it now, Lieutenant Jacobs. Your job right now is to keep quiet under the circumstances and let the Captain do his job.”
“But ma’am, it doesn’t feel right to just sit here, being useless—”
“I understand, Jacobs, but you can’t do anything now. You can’t do anything when what we’re to deal with is on another continent.”
Lee pursed her lips, her pulse quickening, her heart thumping against her ribcages. She had to be there. She had to know. “Then … permission to”—she knew part of her was going to regret this—“permission to fly back. Ma’am.”
General Barton shook her head.
Outside, Hattie approached Beatrice’s desk with a languid gait.
“Hey, Bea. Seen Lee—er, Lieutenant Jacobs—around anywhere?” she enquired of the assistant.
Beatrice tilted her head in the direction of the General’s closed door. “In there.”
“Oh yeah? What’re they talking about?”
Beatrice smiled. “I’m surprised you don’t know.”
Hattie shrugged. “I just heard that she came here right after her stint as detention mistress. Charlie Collins said she just stood up and left the room with her Manilla folders. Looks like he was right.”
Beatrice nodded, her smile conspiratorial and her eyes glinting with excitement. “Looks like she’s figured it out, too!”
Hattie’s nonchalant demeanour switched off, and as her eyebrows rose into her hair, her subsequent squeak of “No way!” sounded like it should have only been heard by dogs. So Lee had figured out who was behind her reason for moving to the other side of the world.
“Yes way!” Beatrice replied. “And now she’s still in there.”
“What’re they saying?!” Hattie ran as quietly as she could to the door, leaning her ear against it.
Through the door, Hattie heard the General chastise Lee in that demanding tone.
“And do what, Lieutenant? What can you do that eight Armed Guards can’t?”
The thunder clapped loudly outside.
There was a pregnant pause, then—
“With all do respect”—that was Lee, Hattie picked up, and she sounded angry—“General, h—”
Hattie jumped as her next word was drowned out by the echoing thunder.
“—killed my family! My only family! My brother, my sister—my mother—all gone, because of this … this person, and you expect me to just stay in one spot, when the … the … the creep I want answers from is on another continent? No! No, I will not!”
Barton began cautiously. “Lee, I understand—”
Less angry this time and more reasoned, Lee replied, “I don’t think you do, General. The reason I can’t sleep at night is over there, and I want to be there when the police take a criminal. I want to know why. I … I need to know. I need … I need this, General Barton. Please.”
As Hattie mentally commended her friend for such a great speech, the lights around her abruptly turned off as if somebody had turned off the switch to every light source. She could barely see her fingers, the outlines only being made visible by the light from the moon through a nearby window.
“Blast!” cursed Beatrice. Hattie could hear her opening a several drawers, feeling around, until she took out a—“Torch!”
Beatrice opened the door to the General’s officer. She looked eerie as the torchlight accentuated the lines on her face.
Lee turned around in Barton’s office. One minute, she was pleading to go back to Montagé, the next, a total blackout had plagued what she surmised was the entire Academy.
“It’s the whole Academy, General. Power’s out, phone lines are dead.”
Behind her, someone hummed the opening bars of the Doctor Who theme. “Spooky, isn’t it?”
“Hattie? Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Lee—er, Lieutenant Jacobs. I went to check up on you. Charlie said you just ran off, so I wanted to know if you were okay, because he said you just left the detention room or whatever, and—”
“Beatrice!” the General interrupted. “Do you have any more torches within the vicinity?”
Beatrice smiled. She disappeared for a few seconds, leaving Lee and the General back in the darkness. She returned shortly with two other torches in her free hand. “Can anybody say life saver?” she sang.
Hattie frowned. “So what do you mean, Lee?”
“It means, that nobody knows I know who it is. Which is a bad thing, because—”
Hattie’s eyes widened. “Oh, because of him being—oh. Crap.”
Lee’s knee jiggled uncontrollably, and her thumbnail was slowly being eaten away by nerves.
“Well, what about mobile phone? I don’t know about credit, but I’ll bet Emily has heaps.”
Lee shook her head. “First thing we tried. I guess there’s still too much static.”
“Oh, great, powerlines are down. No phones. This is just … I hate the dark.”
“You’re not in the dark. The generator’s on.”
“I meant symbolically speaking. I hate being in the dark of what’s happening, you know? I need to know stuff.”
“Yeah, well, so do I,” sighed Lee. “I feel useless just sitting here.”
Hattie sat down next to her. “You’re not. You’re just strapped for options right now. You can’t go out; you can’t get on a plane. You can’t call. You just … can’t do anything, and it’s not you being useless. You just …” Hattie shrugged, “can’t.”
Lee sighed again, and let the silence permeate while her thoughts roamed in her head.
Finally, with urgency in her voice, she managed to verbalise, “God, I hope he’s okay.”
Ryan, how did she get my email address anyway?!
—J
Her mother’s one of your firm’s clients. She just stole the domain and guessed the recipient’s address because they follow the same format.
– Ryan
PS – You’re in the other room, yet you still email me to talk to me. Talk about brotherly love.
I’m busy.
… Well, I was.
—J
Hey Ryan. Look, I’m sorry for just running off like that. But, you know … I was just shocked. I mean, you’ve never spoken to me like that before. But thanks for the honesty, you know? I don’t get that much, either.
I told Dave about it, and he says he knew. But he’s always loved me, and he knew it was just something I was going through that you were helping me deal with. So now he wants to meet up and chat, he says. Just to talk to you.
I’m fine if you say no, because you might think he’s, I don’t know, going to mark his territory or whatevs … but if you do want to meet up, I’ll be there with him. He’s probably going to make sure it’s REALLY over.
Reply by sms, okay? I was going to sms this to you, but I ran out of credit. I haven’t had the chance to buy some today. Okay, I’m blabbering.
TTYL.
—G.
Boo to a goose has just signed in.
Sans toi has just signed in.
Sans toi says:
Hey Ryan. Something wrong?
Boo to a goose says:
No, no, it’s just I have a scenario for you.
Sans toi says:
Er … okay. Shoot. I’m all ears.
Boo to a goose says:
Okay, so I know this guy … named … Bob … and Bob met this girl a few months ago, and at first, Bob hated … Betty. But then Bob realised that Betty might be good for him, because he was kind of spiralling out of control, and here comes a semi-control freak who may have been just the right person to tame Bob.
Sans toi says:
Sounds like Bob has a good thing going for him.
Boo to a goose says:
Okay, yes. But Bob was an idiot, and kind of pushed her. Even though Bob knows he loves Betty, and sometimes gets the feeling that Betty loves Bob too. I mean, Betty fought for Bob when his ex … Jill … wanted Bob back. Betty said there would be no such thing. Even though Bob is supposed to be the one defending Betty, Betty did a nice job of it.
Sans toi says:
What did Bob push Betty into? Why?
Boo to a goose says:
Bob may have pushed Betty into doing something, which may have jeopardised something else that was equally as important to her as food.
Sans toi says:
Are we still talking about you and Lee? What did she jeopardise?
Boo to a goose says:
WE’RE NOT TALKING ABOUT LEE OR ME.
Sans toi says:
Okay, okay. So … Bob and Betty. Bob pushed Betty into something. Continue.
Boo to a goose says:
Anyway, Bob, in his idiocy and momentary lapse of judgement, sends Betty off to another continent without even telling her the truth – in fact, quite the opposite. Bob didn’t even say anything to her when she left to bury her family, who had died.
Sans toi says:
Well, he’s—er, was—an idiot.
Boo to a goose says:
Ha … yes. Well, while Betty is off … on another continent, Bob sort of … goes back into that old habit of his and …
Sans toi says:
And?
Boo to a goose says:
Well, you know what I mean.
Sans toi says:
No, I don’t. I don’t know this Bob, or this Betty.
Boo to a goose says:
:-( Bob goes crazy around members of the opposite sex again, and in doing so, kind of … permanently ruins the small-ish chances he had of getting back with Betty by … er … going back to Jill.
Sans toi says:
How did Bob even know there was a small-ish chance of Betty wanting to get back with him, anyway?
Boo to a goose says:
He just has this feeling.
Sans toi says:
Must be a pretty strong feeling.
Boo to a goose says:
Anyway, back to the scenario.
Sans toi says:
That was part of the scenario!
Boo to a goose says:
No, it wasn’t!
Sans toi says:
Yes, it was!
Boo to a goose says:
Jules!
Sans toi says:
OK, OK, fine. Continue. Betty, Bob and Jill. Gotcha.
Boo to a goose says:
Okay. So, Bob, by accident, goes back to Jill for just ONE time.
Sans toi says:
ONE time? ACCIDENT? Pccht.
Boo to a goose says:
OKAY! OKAY! Bob was only TALKING to Jill. I swear!
Sans toi says:
Don’t you mean HE swears?
Boo to a goose says:
Yes—well, okay, Bob was only talking to Jill, and some stupid photographer manages to snap the picture, and posts it all over the world for everybody, including Betty, most likely, to see. And now, the small-ish chance is completely nonexistent, Bob surmises. But that was before Bob going BACK back to Jill.
Sans toi says:
BACK back as in, Bob slept with Jill again?
Boo to a goose says:
Is there a net equivalent for a sigh? Because if there was, I would put it in there.
Boo to a goose says:
And yes. Bob slept with Jill. Again.
Sans toi says:
Bob’s a bastard.
Boo to a goose says:
But he was drunk!
Sans toi says:
Bob’s a drunk bastard, then.
Boo to a goose says:
Fair enough. Bob’s a damned idiot.
Sans toi says:
Glad he knows.
Boo to a goose says:
But Bob comes to his senses!
Sans toi says:
How?
Boo to a goose says:
Okay, so, Bob comes to his senses and tells Jill to go back to her own boyfriend, who, it turns out, she was cheating on with Bob.
Sans toi says:
GISELLE HAD A BOYFRIEND ALL ALONG?! THAT BITCH!
Boo to a goose says:
WE’RE NOT TALKING ABOUT GISELLE!
Sans toi says:
FINE! JILL then!
Boo to a goose says:
ANYWAY, at first, Jill gets mad at Bob. But then Bob gets a message from Jill saying she told her boyfriend … Steve … about her and Bob, and Steve knew all along. He now wants to meet up with Bob to make sure it’s completely over between Bob and Jill.
Sans toi says:
My God, Ryan. I never realised … your life should be turned into a soap-opera.
Boo to a goose says:
NOT MY LIFE!
Sans toi says:
OK!! Jeez.
Boo to a goose says:
The point is, should Bob go and meet up with Jill and Steve?
Sans toi says:
Difficult scenario. I would say … do it.
Boo to a goose says:
Yeah? I mean, Bob sort of wants to do it – only for selfish purposes, though. Steve and Jill are concrete evidence that Bob’s really growing up. And I think Bob likes it.
Sans toi says:
Regardless, Bob should meet up with Jill and Steve. They only want to talk, right? What’s the harm with talking?
Boo to a goose says:
But what’s Bob going to say to Steve? ‘Sorry, pal, your girlfriend was okay. A bit clingy, though.’
Sans toi says:
Well, I wouldn’t say exactly like that … I would go more along the lines of: ‘Steve, I didn’t know in the beginning that Jill had a boyfriend. And I’m truly, truly sorry for repeating my actions, even when I did know. Thanks for agreeing to talk to me.’
Boo to a goose says:
And for not hitting me.
Boo to a goose says:
I mean Bob.
Sans toi says:
‘And for not hitting me. I mean Bob.’
Boo to a goose says:
OK. Makes sense. Hey, thanks Jules. You really helped.
Sans toi says:
Are you going to forward this to Bob?
Boo to a goose says:
Yes. I will. Every single word.
Sans toi says:
Okay, good, forward this, too:
Boo to a goose says:
Forward what?
Sans toi says:
Bob, you are such a DORK for letting Betty go like that. You were PERFECT for each other, and you LET HER GO? I don’t know anything about Betty jeopardising whatever, but from what I know, it sounds like an excellent reason to go home – family dying. But he didn’t HAVE to let Betty go like that! All he had to say was ‘I’ll wait for you’ or whatever! He didn’t have
Boo to a goose says:
… I'd hate to hear the rest. Poor Bob.
Sans toi says:
Too many characters for one IM. Stupid Messenger. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah – he didn’t HAVE to send her off without saying anything. He could have SAID what he felt for her, instead of regretting it weeks later and moping around the bloody house even when his friends wanted him to get out into the fresh air!
Boo to a goose says:
BOB DID SAY WHAT HE FELT! AND SHE LEFT ANYWAY!
Sans toi says:
HAS BOB GIVEN BETTY TIME? If not, Bob is an IDIOT!
Boo to a goose says:
But Bob knows he was being an idiot. His mother told him so.
Sans toi says:
Good woman.
Sans toi says:
Nevertheless, has Bob said anything to Betty now?
Boo to a goose says:
Well, no—
Sans toi says:
Get in there! Say something to her! I suggest Bob uses the phone, not the internet. Pouring one’s feelings to another is not something that should be done electronically.
Boo to a goose says:
But what should Bob say?
Sans toi says:
The truth! And apologise for pushing Betty into something that could jeopardise something else. Bob’s a romantic at heart, I know it – why else would he be asking you to ask me?
Boo to a goose says:
Hah … yes.
Sans toi says:
So how DO you feel, Ryan?
Boo to a goose says:
We’re talking about Bob, remember?
Sans toi says:
Whatever. Avoid the subject. I’ll wheedle it out of you sooner or later.
Sans toi says:
I need to get going, okay? Message me how Bob’s meeting with Jill and Steve goes.
Boo to a goose says:
OK.
Sans toi says:
TTYL.
Boo to a goose says:
And thanks, Jules.
Sans toi says:
Yeah, yeah. You owe me.
Boo to a goose says:
Bob owes you.
Sans toi appears to be OFFLINE and may not reply to your message. You can send them messages but these will be read once they sign into Messenger.
Boo to a goose appears to be OFFLINE and may not reply to your message. You can send them messages but these will be read once they sign into Messenger.
G—Ok. Can’t get out of house right now. Want to meet at my house? Tonight’s fine. That OK?
Message from: Private Number
Tonight’s fine. Will be there. Thankyou, Ryan.
“Your Highness? Who’s that?”
“Just a couple of people I wanted to talk to, Kew.”
“Your Highness, I thought we had an agreement that you—”
“We agreed that I wouldn’t go out of the house, Kew. And I’m not.” When he was met with Kew’s sardonic brow, Ryan sighed. “Kew, I just really needed to talk to these two, okay? It’s important.” Kew was unmoving, and Ryan tried another approach. “Look, we’ll even stay in the kitchen just so you can keep an eye on us.” His eyes darted to the door, and Kew grumbled.
“Who are these two, anyway?”
“Giselle—you know Giselle—and her … friend, David.”
With another pleading look from Ryan, Kew capitulated.
“Fine. But stay in the kitchen, okay? I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Ryan nodded, and reached the door just in time for Giselle’s second ring of the bell.
“Ryan, thanks so much for this,” Giselle breathed through eyes wider than usual. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair looked like it hadn’t been combed. The colour from her lip had faded, and was slightly smudged on one corner of her mouth.
Wondering what they were doing outside, and quashing his curiosity for good reason, he smiled.
Behind her, Dave Ferris cleared his throat. “Prince Nicholas Ryan Fredrik the Third of Montagé. Nice to meet you.”
Ryan laughed. “Call me Ryan.” He shook Dave’s hand and stepped aside. “Please, come in.”
With another smile, Ryan closed the door and headed for the kitchen, his two guests in tow. “Don’t mind the mess in the kitchen – my sister Sophia was playing Scrabble this morning.”
Dave smiled. “I don’t much like Scrabble, myself. I’m not very good at it.”
Ryan forced yet another smile. He changed the subject as he entered the kitchen. He spied his mobile phone on the counter, and unthinkingly pocketed it. “Does anybody want a drink?”
Thanks for the nice sentiments about my finishing Year 12. All I can say is, thank the Lord I no longer have to memorise integrals and quotes for essays. Although, I must say, the inner nerd inside of me says, ‘Mmmm … calculus.’
Also, my apologies for being a little tardy on this – I had Uni offers to accept, reject, applications to fill out, I had to start work … well, now all I can say is, watch out, big wide world!
I’m sorry too about the abruptness of the thankyou’s! I’ll work on that, I promise.
Special, special thanks to:
Randomisation, Lalaith7, rosieroo, EnChAnTeD-KoReAn, violet-eyez, bitterSw33t, chic rebel, Ye, Ambiguous Me, theyStoleMyPenName, photogirl16, personwithaccount, Raging Libra, Aragorn is mine, Kristen, GhettoBread, britty-tt (goodness, I nearly typed ‘bratty’ again; I do apologise for the earlier mistake :)), Saphimire Karishnikova (lovely name, by the way), The Happy Carrot, gulistanlik, Alenor, thinkTwice Nfall, philosophyonacid, mimi, Twinkle Star Bell
NOW … about the ‘person’ – it’s so obvious as to who it is (the question is, why? How?), and to everyone who thinks their guess is right, props to you. I promise, I shall place your names at the beginning of the epilogue.
AS FOR future updates … I’m not going to make any promises. I know my updating ways isn’t my best point (and, let’s face it, I think it may have lost me some reviewers, but that’s a-okay), but I really will try. That, I can promise.
Thanks for sticking with this, guys. I can never say how much it means to me.
- Small Marshmallow