Amanda Lester and the Orange Crystal Crisis

by Paula Berinstein

  “Ouch?” He looked confused.

  “Never mind. You will help me with the content, but I will write the script.” She glared at him.

  “Well, naturally I’ll do the content. I mean, uh, that wasn’t nice of me. Sorry. How much do you know about cyberforensics?”

  She wanted to say, “Whatever Simon teaches me,” but instead she said, “Not much. That’s why Thrillkill wanted you on the project.”

  “Oh,” Holmes said. “So I’m just a consulting producer.”

  “Something like that, yes.” She laughed. Where had he picked up the jargon?

  “I don’t like that,” he said. “Why are you laughing?”

  “What’s wrong with that? Consulting producer is a good position. You get your name in the credits.”

  “It’s peripheral,” said Holmes.

  “What, you want to be a star?” said Amanda.

  Holmes giggled. “No, of course I don’t want to be a star. I’ll leave that up to you Americans.”

  “What?!” She could feel her face turning red.

  “Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” he said. “That was a compliment.”

  Amanda narrowed her eyes and looked him straight in the face. “Look. You may think you’re hot stuff just because you’re descended from the great Sherlock. You bet I’m American, and we don’t think that way. Everyone stands and falls on his or her own merit. So cut it out.”

  Holmes looked taken aback. “I didn’t mean anything. I can tell you’re really talented.” Amanda wasn’t going to let herself fall for that. She glared even harder. “I have to tell you, however, that I don’t agree with your approach. Just because I haven’t written scripts before doesn’t mean I can’t contribute. I’m a good writer. I think you’ll find me valuable.”

  Amanda snorted. “We don’t have time for you to be valuable. We have a deadline. We need an experienced scriptwriter. That’s me. You’re the subject expert. Got it?”

  “Fine,” he said more calmly than most people would have. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do it your way. However, I’m not the only one around here who has a lot to learn.”

  This insult so angered Amanda that she got up and stomped out of the room, leaving the plates on the tables rattling. Everyone turned and stared at her. As she clomped through the doorway, she could hear Holmes calling after her, “See you at our next meeting.”

  Amanda was so distressed by her encounter with Holmes that she didn’t see Thrillkill walking toward the dining room and ran smack into him.

  “Whoa, there,” he said. “Are we late for something?”

  “No, sir. Sorry, sir,” she said, rubbing her nose where she’d collided with him.

  “We have the results from the analysis of Nick Muffet’s room,” he said. “Mostly inconclusive, I’m afraid. Just two things of interest.”

  Uh oh. She really didn’t want to hear this.

  “First of all, that picture on the mattress,” he said. “We found fibers on it. We were able to match them to several of Mr. Muffet’s outer garments. No surprise there. It was probably in his pocket at some point. As to the memory card, it contains something I think you’ll find familiar.”

  Oh no! What could that be? She felt like covering her ears.

  “You made a video of the secret room and the stone stairs leading to and from it. With slime mold all around.”

  This was a surprise. Why would Nick be hiding a copy of her documentation? “Yes, sir. We made that when we were following the cook last term.”

  “That was it. Nothing else.”

  What was going on? Why would Nick have hidden those things? There was nothing particularly secret about them. Unless . . .

  “Sir, do you think Nick used steganography on those images?”

  “Now that’s an interesting idea, Miss Lester. Good thinking. Unfortunately, it isn’t possible to do that on a printed picture. We need the digital version, which we don’t have. We did look for coded messages in the video, but we didn’t find anything.”

  “Are you sure? Because there can’t be any other reason for him to hide those things. They weren’t secret.”

  “I must say I’m rather stumped,” said Thrillkill. “Unless, of course . . .”

  “Unless what?” she said, hoping he wouldn’t say it.

  “Unless he was keeping them because of you.”

  “Me? What about me?”

  Thrillkill took off his glasses and looked squarely at her. “I think Mr. Muffet may have had a soft spot for you, Miss Lester.”

  This was definitely something Amanda did not want to hear. Of course it wasn’t true. Thrillkill hadn’t been there when Nick had taunted her, bragged about how he’d used her and made a fool of her, tried to get her to kill her own father. Her supposed best friend had laughed in her face, telling her that she’d been gullible and naïve. That wasn’t a soft spot. The boy was cruel. The only person he had a soft spot for was Nick Muffet.

  She tried to put Thrillkill’s words out of her mind. The best way to do that, she figured, would be to turn her attention to the missing item. She wondered how Simon was coming along with the listening devices, but Sketching, the last class of the day, was about to start and there wasn’t time.

  The sketching teacher, Professor Browning, was a beautiful, vibrant American woman who painted striking pictures of caves. Whether they were sea grottoes, mammoth caverns filled with glittering stalactites and stalagmites, or twisty underground tunnels, she seemed as much an expert in speleology as she was in art. Amanda was looking forward to the class. She was good at drawing and wanted to spend more time at it.

  When she saw Simon she whispered, “How are you coming along with the listening devices?” He raised his hand and gave her a thumb-finger circle. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least something was going well. She couldn’t wait to hear more.

  When everyone had taken their seats, the teacher stood in front of the class and seemed to be counting. She frowned. Of course Editta was missing, so the number of students wasn’t right. Amanda wondered where her friend was. Her failure to show up was becoming worrisome.

  Professor Browning was wearing a black suit with a pencil skirt and very high heels. Her hair was styled in an old-fashioned French roll. She looked very 1960s.

  “Good afternoon, class,” she said in a way that exclaimed, “I don’t fool around, so don’t try anything.”

  “Good afternoon,” said the class in ragged but enthusiastic fashion. Somehow she had already won them over. Amanda could feel herself getting excited.

  “Let’s begin our adventure in sketching. I want you to find one person you don’t know well and sit next to them. Go on now—scoot.”

  Everyone looked around trying to identify the one student they knew the least. Then, in a way that was scarily smooth, they all got up and made a beeline for their choice. No one was left out—except Gordon Bramble. It was as if each person had one and only one “I-don’t-know-you” partner they recognized immediately.

  Amanda’s partner was Clive Ng, a kid known for his interest in rocks. He could always be seen around the school looking at the ground and picking up samples, even when there was snow on the ground. He was rumored to possess an astonishing geode collection and was well liked for his pleasant manner and upbeat attitude. Ivy found herself paired with Amanda’s lab partner, Dreidel Pomfritter. Amanda thought that would be interesting. Ivy would be drawing by feel rather than sight. She couldn’t wait to see how her sketches turned out.

  Simon’s opposite number was Owla Snizzle and Amphora’s was a tall, skinny girl named Binnie Belasco, who was new this term. Because there was an odd number of kids, Gordon Bramble ended up with Professor Browning.

  “Now, class,” said the teacher, “I want you to take your charcoal,” she held up a piece of charcoal, “and draw your partner’s face. You have five minutes. Go.”

  Amanda stared at Clive and Clive stared at Amanda. He said, “I don’t know how to draw.” Sh
e said, “It’s easy. Don’t worry,” and drew an oval on her pad, a rough outline of the boy’s head. Then she blocked out where his features would go. Watching what she was doing, the boy mimicked her until he had a similar oval and lines for where her eyes, nose, and mouth should be.

  “I don’t know how to do hair,” he said, eyeing her long, bushy mane. “It looks hard.”

  “Don’t worry about the hair right now,” she said. “Just get the shapes right.”

  “Okay.”

  As Amanda filled in Clive’s features, he copied her. He seemed to have a talent for drawing after all, because when she looked at his picture she could recognize herself.

  “Hey, that’s really good,” she said.

  “Thanks,” he beamed. “Yours looks like me too.”

  “Time!” said Professor Browning after what seemed like thirty seconds. “Put your charcoal down.”

  All kinds of protests, sighs, and moans permeated the room. Obviously most of the kids hadn’t finished. In fact a couple of them hadn’t even started.

  “Now, before we examine the results of this little exercise,” said the teacher, “I want to tell you why we did this. When you are a witness to a crime, or you’re investigating one, you will see faces you won’t be able to capture with your camera. When that happens you will need to draw them from memory. That’s why you need sketching skills. I asked you to select the person you know least well so as to simulate this kind of situation.

  “When you know someone, you see them differently from the way you see a stranger. With a stranger you’re more objective, and the likeness you make tends to be truer. So, I expect your picture of Mr. Ng, Miss Lester, to be a better one than if you were to draw, say, Miss Kapoor.”

  Amanda and Amphora looked at each other as if they’d never met.

  “We are starting with faces because that is what you will be drawing most often. You will also draw places and things, of course, but those will be easier. Faces are the most difficult and require the most practice.

  “Now, let’s see how you did. Miss Lester, Mr. Ng, since I’ve already mentioned you, will you please come to the front with your drawings.”

  For once Amanda wasn’t embarrassed to be called on. Clive seemed a mellow sort and didn’t look bothered either. The two of them grabbed their pads and took their places at the front of the room. When Amanda looked out, she could see David Wiffle making faces at her. She felt like making faces back but she wasn’t exactly in a position to do so.

  “Please hold up your drawings,” said Professor Browning.

  The pair did as instructed. Oohs and aahs filled the room as the class murmured approval.

  “Very nice,” said the teacher. “I see you both started by blocking out the shapes and locations of the features, then filled in the detail. Excellent. You may return to your seats.”

  As she made her way back to her chair, Amanda caught sight of the Wiffle kid making a deprecating gesture. She turned her head away and ignored him.

  “Mr. Wiffle,” said the teacher. “Will you and Miss Starshine please bring your drawings to the front?”

  David Wiffle got up and clomped loudly to the front of the room, followed by a much daintier Prudence Starshine.

  “Now let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Prudence had done pretty well. She wasn’t a natural artist, but she’d blocked out the shapes, which gave her drawing a solid foundation. David Wiffle, on the other hand, had drawn only Prudence’s eyes and eyebrows in a tight hand that made her look like she was in pain.

  “Good start,” said Professor Browning. “However, Mr. Wiffle, I think you’ll have better luck if you start with the big picture. Block out the shapes and relationships among them before attacking the detail. Nice work, Miss Starshine. I can see the resemblance.”

  Amanda couldn’t, but that was okay. Prudence would do fine. David, on the other hand, would probably continue to think he knew best and produce mediocre work. But what business was it of hers? As long as he stayed out of her way she didn’t care what he did.

  At the end of class, Professor Browning assigned homework. The students were to practice drawing from memory. She didn’t expect them to be completely successful, but the exercise should help them hone their powers of observation (Professor Sidebotham would have approved of that) and get comfortable with their materials, which were to be charcoal and pencil.

  As the class was breaking up, Amanda turned to talk to Ivy. When she turned back, there was a mustache on her picture of Clive and she could see David Wiffle laughing. She picked up her pad, caught up with him, and clobbered him over the head. Now she was in for it but she didn’t care. It was time that kid learned a lesson, and she was willing to take whatever punishment resulted just to see that happen.

  Amanda knew David had provoked her on purpose. It was obvious that he had been waiting for an opportunity to get her expelled, and he may have found it.

  “Professor, Professor,” he yelled. “Amanda hit me!” He was holding his head and groaning in a way that seemed fake.

  Professor Browning came toddling out of her classroom. It was a wonder she hadn’t broken her ankle by now the way those heels were so skinny and tall. They click, click, clicked on the hard floor in an angry-sounding manner.

  “What’s happened?” she said. “Mr. Wiffle, are you injured?” She took hold of the boy’s hand and moved it out of the way so she could see his head.

  “Yes, Professor. I need to go to the nurse,” said Wiffle. “Amanda hit me.”

  “Are you bleeding? Let me see.” She felt his head, then turned it this way and that. “No blood. All right. Mr. Bramble,” she turned to Gordon, who was looking on with a smirk on his face, “will you please see Mr. Wiffle to the nurse. Now.”

  Gordon stepped up and winked at David, and the two turned to leave.

  “And Mr. Wiffle,” Professor Browning called after him, “come see me as soon as you’ve finished. I’ll be in my office.”

  The two boys left. Amanda could hear them whispering and giggling. Simon, who was standing nearby, shook his head. Amphora and Ivy were trying to pretend they weren’t interested and moved a discreet distance away.

  “Now, Miss Lester,” said the teacher, somehow managing to keep her balance, “tell me what happened.”

  “I hit him,” said Amanda. She could hear a gasp from Ivy and Amphora’s direction. “He deserved it and I finally cracked. I’m ready for my punishment.” She held out her wrists as if waiting for the handcuffs.

  The teacher cracked up. “Good one, Miss Lester. You have a flair for the dramatic. I like that.”

  Amanda looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “I saw what he did to you,” said Professor Browning. “He’ll be punished. Now I don’t condone what you did, but I can understand why you did it. If this happens again, try to be calm. Now off you go. You’ve got work to do.”

  Amanda couldn’t believe her ears. She could hear more gasps from Ivy and Amphora, whose backs were facing her. Simon was grinning. “I, uh, thank you, Professor,” Amanda said.

  The teacher smiled and returned to her classroom in a slightly less noisy fashion than the way she’d left it. The four friends and Nigel practically ran to the common room.

  “Did you see that?” said Amphora on the way. “Wow.”

  “I know,” said Amanda. “I never expected that to happen.”

  “You Americans stick together, don’t you?” said Simon.

  “Si-monnnnn,” said the three girls in unison. Nigel jumped up on his hind legs and did a little dance.

  “Just having you on,” he said. “Way to go, Amanda.”

  Amanda beamed. At least one thing was going her way. Although when David found out, he’d be even more ruthless. He hated their little clique with a passion. If only he would use that energy for something productive, he’d probably make a crackerjack detective.

  “You do know he’s going to be even more dangerous now,” said Amphora.
>
  “Yes,” sighed Amanda. “But I think Thrillkill is on my side so I’m not too worried.”

  She never would have been confident of Thrillkill’s support until recently. The man was normally pretty intimidating. Lately, though, he’d been so nice it almost seemed that he’d had a personality transplant.

  “Speaking of Thrillkill,” Simon said when they’d arrived at the common room, which was decorated like an orchestra pit, “I’ve worked out how I’m going to make the listening devices. It shouldn’t be too long now. I’m going to use the 3D printer to create the parts. I got some open source plans online.”

  “Oh, wow, that’s good,” said Amanda. She leaned against the Steinway piano the gremlins had installed, hitting a few keys in the process. They tinkled, ting ting. “Oops. Sorry.”

  “You,” came a voice. Everyone looked at the door, even Ivy, who inclined her head. David Wiffle and Gordon Bramble were standing there. “You’d better watch out,” said David looking straight at Amanda.

  “What are you doing here?” said Amanda. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the nurse’s?”

  “Forget that,” said Wiffle. “You hit me and didn’t get in trouble. I’m lodging a formal complaint. You’re going to be out of here at last.” He let out a guffaw.

  “I’m glad you think that’s funny,” said Amanda, “because you’re going to need something to keep you going when you find out that you’re the one in trouble, not me.” She pulled a finger across her neck as if to say, “It’s the guillotine for you.”

  “No way,” said Wiffle. “You assaulted me. You’re dead, Lester. What a great place this will be without you. I can’t wait.”

  “Shut up, David,” said Amphora. “You’re nothing but a loser. No one likes you.”

  “And you,” Wiffle said to Amphora. “You’re going to get in a lot of trouble if you don’t stop hanging around that new cook.”

  “What?” said Ivy, Amanda, and Simon together. They looked at Amphora, who was blushing.

  “That’s right,” said Wiffle. “You didn’t know? She’s in love with the new cook. I’ve seen them together.”

  “Get out of here, David,” said Ivy. “Why are you so mean? And you, Gordon. Why do you waste your time with him?” This definitely did not sound like Ivy, who never said a nasty word to anyone. She really must have heard too much of something. She was downright prickly.