Authors: Gabrielle Lord
February (16 page)
How would I get information now? My picture was probably in every internet café in the city and the state! I didn’t even get a chance to check my page.
boges. my pic is all over internet café! NEW pic. must have taken it from security camera. just got out in time. didn’t get any info. u?
dude! that sucks. in library now. nothing 2 exciting on blog. let u know if anything changes. found the riddle the sphinx used on her victims … what goes on 4 legs, then 2 legs, then 3 legs?
i give up.
… a human being. first as a baby we crawl on 4 legs, then as adults we walk on 2. finally as old people we walk with a walking stick. 3 legs!’
u reckon those numbers 4, 2 & 3 are clues to dad’s puzzle?
could be. don’t forget the number 5 in the drawing of the old cupboard or door or whatever it is. that gives us 2, 3, 4 & 5. meaning?
once I caught a fish alive.
cal, ur hilarious. (i’m being sarcastic, in case u can’t detect my tone by sms.)
I’d been slowly making my way back towards St Johns Street, hoping that the place was empty. I’d have to wait until it was dark before actually trying to get in there. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but was so happy to be heading away from the drain and the railway yards.
I kept my head down but occasionally I’d scan the people around me, wondering if I’d ever see that kid again—the one who looked exactly like me. Then I’d start to wonder whether I’d imagined the whole thing—seeing double, or something.
I listened again on the verandah. All was still and quiet. Whoever had moved in had moved out again.
I crawled up through the hole in the floor and collapsed. It was strange to feel such relief from being in this dump. Almost anything’d have been better than the drain.
I had more room, a soft glow of candlelight,
my little radio playing softly and I’d found a tin of beans I’d forgotten I’d hidden away.
boges. i’m back at the mansion. b round any time soon?
i’ll see what i can do in the next couple of nights. hang tight.
‘Sorry, dude, but I’ve only got a few minutes,’ said Boges. ‘I think Mum’s getting suspicious. I don’t
think
she would say anything to the police, but … she could slip up without meaning to. I don’t want my charm to fade with the teachers at school, either. My grades are still up so they’re pretty cool when I rock up to class late, or … not at all, but they could start seeing it as arrogance if I do it too much.’
He unloaded his backpack, tossed me a black cap, a charged phone battery, and then my new supplies: a bunch of bananas, a bag of bread rolls and more canned beans. He started laughing as he made a tower with the cans.
‘What is it?’ I asked, pulling the hat on.
‘This diet of yours. It’s primitive. Much more
of this,’ he said as he added the last can to his tower, ‘and you’ll be swinging through the trees, jet propelled by natural gas!’
It was so good to laugh.
‘You heard from that Sligo chick?’ Boges asked.
‘Winter. No.’
‘Probably a good thing. Anyway I gotta go, but I’ll keep you updated on your blog and let you know if I have any DMO strokes of genius—it’s bound to happen, let’s face it. And here,’ he said, handing me two twenty-dollar notes, ‘I fixed Mr Addicot’s laptop for him. He gave me sixty bucks!’
‘Thanks heaps.’ If it wasn’t for Boges I’d have been forced into handing myself in long ago.
‘I know you’d do the same for me,’ said Boges. ‘Forget about it.’