The Candy Shop War, Vol. 2: Arcade Catastrophe

by Brandon Mull

  © 2012 Brandon Mull.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Shadow Mountain®. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of Shadow Mountain.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  © 2012 Creative Concepts LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Shadow Mountain®. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of Shadow Mountain.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Visit us at ShadowMountain.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Mull, Brandon, 1974– author.

  Arcade catastrophe / Brandon Mull.

  pages cm. — (The candy shop war ; book 2)

  Summary: Nate and his friends think the new Arcadeland, where tickets can earn jets, tanks, subs, and racecars, is totally cool, until they learn that the arcade owner is hiding a secret.

  ISBN 978-1-60907-179-0 (hardbound : alk. paper)

  [1. Magic—Fiction. 2. Candy—Fiction. 3. Friendship—Fiction.

  4. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction.] I. Title. II. Series: Mull, Brandon, 1974– Candy shop war ; book 2.

  PZ7.M9112Ar 2012

  [Fic]—dc232012023506

  Printed in the United States of America

  R. R. Donnelley, Crawfordsville, IN

  10987654321

  For Tiff and Ty,

  magical candy and arcade prizes!

  Table of Contents

  Late One Night

  Dead Man’s Run

  Advice

  The Battiato Brothers

  Arcadeland

  Tickets

  Lindy

  Odd Hours

  Stamps

  Jets

  Training

  Simulcrist

  The Hermit

  Prisoners

  The Graywaters

  The Guidestone

  The Resistance

  Lighthouse

  The Chest

  Rescue

  Desperate Measures

  The Gate

  The Protector

  Uweya

  Mopping Up

  Breakfast for Dinner

  Note on Locations

  Acknowledgments

  Reading Guide

  The Candy Shop War card game

  Prologue

  Late One Night

  Roman lay still in the darkness, his covers up to his neck. The hall light had gone out five minutes ago. He heard no murmurs of conversation. Only the whir of the air conditioner interrupted the silence.

  He could probably get started, but it would be safer to wait a few more minutes. In the dark, with nothing to do, waiting was hard. Seconds passed like minutes, and minutes dragged like hours. Roman kept losing the staring contest with the digital numbers of his clock as he willed the time to advance.

  Bored or not, he chose to wait. If his parents caught him breaking curfew, he would get grounded for even longer. He had almost survived the week. He had not left the house except with family, and he had gone to bed by ten o’clock every night. Once in bed, he was not allowed to have his light on, which meant no reading comics and no drawing.

  Ten o’clock might not sound early to some people, but it was summer vacation, and even during the school year, Roman usually stayed up until at least midnight. In the summer he was often awake until well after that.

  Now that the end of his punishment was near, it would be tragic to get caught breaking the rules. So far, each night after going to bed, once the house became still, he had clicked on a flashlight under his blankets. Twice he had heard footsteps in the hall as his mother or father came to check on him, and both times he had switched off the light well before his door had inched open.

  The air conditioner stopped blowing cool air through the vent high on the wall. The house was quiet. It was probably safe. If he heard somebody coming, he would just be quick.

  Roman clicked on his flashlight. Made of shiny metal, it was long and heavy, with a strong bulb. The bright beam provided more than enough light for reading comic books. He had checked how much of that light escaped when he kept the powerful flashlight under the covers. From outside his room, a person practically had to lie down and stare under the door to see any sign of it.

  Roman retrieved his drawing pad and colored pencils from under his bed. He had no new comics, and he was feeling in a creative mood. He flipped past pictures of battleships, dinosaurs, superheroes, and burning buildings. The current image in progress involved three skaters diving out of the way as a monster truck crashed through a brick wall. It was more than halfway done.

  He was trying to decide what insignia to put on the most prominent skateboard when he heard distinct tapping at his window. Roman reflexively switched off his flashlight and laid his head down, hiding the drawing pad beneath his chest. He held his breath. The gentle tapping repeated insistently. As the fear of discovery faded, Roman began to wonder who was at his window. Since his bedroom was on the second floor, this was especially strange.

  Roman peeked out from under his covers. The glow of streetlights backlit the figure outside his window enough to confirm that it was a person. There was no way one of his parents was out there on the narrow apron of roof. It had to be one of his friends.

  None of his friends had ever visited him like this. What if it was a burglar or somebody shady? But would robbers tap persistently to announce their presence? The figure at the window waved and gently tapped again.

  Otherwise the house remained quiet. Roman crawled out of bed, crossed to the window, and clicked on his flashlight. The bright beam revealed Marisa, squinting and holding up a hand to shield her eyes.

  He switched off the light. What was Marisa doing on his roof? She knew he was grounded. This could get him busted for life!

  He unlocked the window and slid it up, grateful that he was in a T-shirt and shorts. When he was feeling hot, Roman sometimes stripped down to his underwear to sleep.

  “Hey, Rome,” Marisa whispered, carefully crouching through the window.

  “Hi, Risa,” Roman whispered back, glancing nervously at his door. He heard no hint of his parents stirring. “How’d you get on my roof?”

  “I have my ways,” she said with a mysterious smile. “You’re almost done being grounded, right?”

  “Unless my parents catch you here,” Roman said.

  “I won’t stay long,” she promised. “I just wanted to show you something.” She held out her hand. The back was stamped with a blue fighter jet.

  “You got it,” Roman said, impressed.

  “Chris helped me,” Marisa replied. “Rome, he was right. It’s better than you could guess. Way better. It’s like a passport into the coolest club ever.”

  “I know that much,” Roman said. “What kind of club? He would never tell us.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. I promised. You’ll understand when you get yours.”

  Roman huffed darkly. “Right. Risa, I’m done. That’s how I got busted in the first place. My parents would destroy me if I went back to that arcade. Besides, I already blew all my money. It wasn’t enough.”

  “You have to go back,” Risa insisted. “Chris and I will put up the money.”


  “What?”

  “The jet stamp comes with perks. I’ve got some spare money now. You’re part of the way there, Rome. Only two jets are left. You have to finish what you started.”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “Other people are catching on. Those two jets won’t stay available forever. You need to win one.”

  Roman shook his head. “Whether or not I use my own money, I’m not supposed to go to Arcadeland again.”

  “That’s why I came,” Marisa said. “I knew you’d think twice before coming back. I get that you’re not supposed to, but you have to do it. Trust me. It’s worth the risk.”

  Roman heard the floor creak out in the hall. Chills raced through him. Marisa shot him a worried look. “Go,” he whispered urgently.

  “Come to the arcade Saturday morning,” she whispered back, lunging toward the window. “Use any excuse. Just come.”

  Marisa dove out the window as the handle of his bedroom door turned softly. Facing the door, Roman winced. There was no time to get back in bed. Not that it would matter. The crash of Marisa slamming onto the roof would give them away.

  Except he heard no crash. Not even a creak. Switching off his flashlight, Roman rolled it across the carpeted floor toward his dresser. The door eased open. His dad peeked in. Roman didn’t move, like a wild animal trying to blend with its surroundings. The dark offered some cover, but light from the hall spilled across his empty bed. After a brief pause, the door opened wider.

  “Roman?” Dad asked.

  “I’m here,” Roman said weakly.

  His dad stepped into the room, admitting more light as the door opened all the way. “Why’s your window open?”

  “I was hot,” Roman invented desperately, trying to act calm. Although it seemed physically impossible, somehow Marisa had still made no noise. “I was bored.”

  His dad crossed to the window and looked out. Roman’s stomach clenched with worry. How would his dad react when he saw Marisa out there?

  But his dad turned away from the window as if he had seen nothing. “You weren’t thinking of climbing out there?”

  “What? No way! I’m grounded. Besides, there’s no way down.” There really wasn’t. Not without a ladder. Had Marisa brought a ladder?

  “Climbing onto roofs in the dark is a good way to break your neck.”

  “I know. I was just stir-crazy. I wanted some air.”

  His dad nodded. “All right. I guess I can understand that. You’re supposed to be in bed, you know, but at least your light was off.”

  “I wasn’t reading or anything,” Roman said. “Just restless.”

  “I get why you’re restless. I’m sure this has felt like a long week. Still, a punishment is no good unless it gets enforced. Hang in there.”

  “I will,” Roman said. He walked over to shut the window. Glancing out as casually as possible, he caught no glimpse of Marisa. After closing the window, Roman returned to his bed.

  Roman’s dad walked to the door. “Get some sleep.”

  “I will. Good night.”

  “Night.”

  The door closed, leaving the room dark aside from the soft light coming from the face of Roman’s digital clock and the diffused light seeping through the window. Roman waited quietly, letting the minutes pass.

  How had Marisa escaped? How had she done it so quietly? He could only imagine that she had dived off the roof. Which meant that Marisa might currently be sprawled on his driveway with a broken neck.

  If she had been willing to climb to his window in the middle of the night, the jet club must really be cool. Chris had insisted that earning the stamp was worth it, and apparently Risa agreed. Roman gripped his covers tightly. Risa had even offered to give him money so he could keep earning tickets.

  So far Roman had spent all of his personal savings earning prize tickets—more than four hundred dollars. The money had come from the little safe on his dresser, the one with the words PRIVATE FUND printed across the back. The money belonged to him, but, except for minor purchases, he was only supposed to spend it with permission. For more than a week before he was grounded, Roman had turned twenties into tokens until he had nothing left. When his parents had caught him, Arcadeland had been forbidden, and his week as an inmate had begun.

  Could he really go back there? Chris had promised that the jet stamp would change his life, and Risa was backing him up.

  The house remained quiet. After retrieving his flashlight, Roman crept to the window and opened it. He stepped out onto the roof, the shingles creaking noisily. Again he wondered how Marisa had stayed so silent.

  Clicking on the flashlight, he scanned the empty driveway, finding no paralyzed bodies. “Marisa?” he whispered loudly. “Risa? You out there?”

  There came no reply.

  Roman climbed back into his room, stashed the flashlight, put his drawing pad and pencils away, and then returned to bed. With his mind so full of worries and questions, there was no longer any need to draw.

  He had blown his savings at an arcade. No huge deal, right? He was only a kid. There would be plenty of time to earn more.

  Still, it was all the money he had saved for his entire life, and he had made his parents angry by sneakily spending it. All to earn a cheesy stamp. The jet stamp had to include amazing perks, or else why would it be worth so many tickets?

  Chris was a smart kid, and he had remained adamant. He had insisted that the rewards of the stamp were way cooler than a free lifetime supply of Arcadeland tokens, tons better than free lifetime Arcadeland food and drinks. Chris had promised that Roman would thank him forever. Now Risa too.

  Roman pressed his cheek into his pillow. He had no savings left. He had gotten grounded for a week of his precious summer vacation. But if Marisa and Chris would put up the money for him to keep earning tickets, Roman knew he had to go back to Arcadeland.

  Chapter One

  Dead Man’s Run

  Straddling his bike, Nate stared down the long slope. He had heard older kids call it Dead Man’s Run. The name seemed appropriate. Rutted by tires and rainfall, the dirt track wound down a steep hillside, skirting sheer edges much of the way. From his current vantage point, some stretches of the path seemed to drop almost vertically. The idea of walking down Dead Man’s Run made him uncomfortable, let alone riding a bike.

  “Look at her go,” Pigeon murmured. Hair buzzed to a uniform bristle, he stood beside Nate, clutching the handlebars of a shabby bike.

  Protected by a helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, and gloves, Summer raced fearlessly down the trail on a rusty mountain bike. She reached a long, straight, steep portion of the trail that swooped directly into a banked turn. They had scouted the path beforehand, and Nate knew that a fairly high cliff was hidden just beyond the bend.

  Crouching forward, Summer pedaled hard down the slope, gaining way too much speed. There was no chance of making the turn. Instead, Summer used the angled bank as a ramp, hitting it straight on at full speed and then launching into the air.

  Once airborne, she kicked away from her bike, sailing higher and farther than the laws of physics should have allowed as the bike tumbled out of view. Her gliding trajectory was possible only thanks to the Moon Rock in her mouth. The candy reduced the effect of gravity on her, although it did not entirely erase the pull, as was proved when Summer gradually curved out of view.

  “Think she’ll be okay?” Lindy asked.

  “We’ll know in a minute,” Pigeon said, holding up his walkie-talkie. He pressed the talk button. “How does she look?”

  “She won’t make it all the way to me,” Trevor replied. “She’ll clear most of the slope. What a jump! She’s waiting to bite, cutting it close. Okay, she froze just in time. She did it perfectly, just before hitting the ground. Still frozen. Still frozen. Now she’s down. She’s fine. Over.”

  “Let us know when she reaches you.”

  “Will do.”

  Nate was glad to hear that Summer had timed her bite right. Earli
er in the summer, through accidental experimentation, they had discovered that biting a Moon Rock temporarily froze you in space, no matter how fast or slow you were moving at the time. The knowledge came in handy. Even with reduced gravity, if you fell a long way, you could eventually build up enough speed to really hurt yourself.

  The experience of biting a Moon Rock was not comfortable—it felt like a jolt of electricity, made your ears ring, and left you temporarily dizzy. But your body suffered no lasting damage from the sudden stop, and the results were very reliable. The knowledge that biting a Moon Rock served as instant brakes had allowed them to attempt some risky stunts with the candy. You had to make sure to bite only when close to the ground, because after you unfroze, all the antigravity effects of the Moon Rock would be gone and you would fall like normal.

  “She’ll probably win,” Lindy said.

  Nate stared at the redhead. Less than a year ago, Lindy had been an aging magician named Belinda White. She had originated the formula for Moon Rocks and several other magical treats. Mr. Stott had raided her notes and learned to replicate many of her creations, adding them to his growing menu of supernatural candy.

  But Lindy retained no memory of her previous life. At the same time as she had sipped water from the Fountain of Youth, she had also unknowingly consumed a Clean Slate—a potent confection of her own design that had completely erased her identity. She currently lived with Mr. Stott, who had adopted her after John Dart had provided the necessary paperwork. She had joined Nate and his friends for most of their fifth-grade year and now routinely spent time with them during the summer. They called themselves the Blue Falcons, and they regularly experimented with magical candy.