"I'm home!" Claire called, flinging the door open wide. When her sister's voice didn't greet her, she sighed and closed the door as sh made her way into the house. "Nora? If you're trying to scare me, it won't work!" The longer she went without seeing her twin, the more nervousness grew. But when she came upon her fellow redhead, seated cross-legged on the floor of their living room with her eyes glued to the TV, she let out an exasperated sigh. "Nora, what in the world are you doing?"
"Watching the news."
"The news? What, no cartoons? Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?"
Nora rolled her eyes, but leaned forward as a picture of the school appeared in the upper-right corner. "Due to a bit of flooding, Silverlight High School was closed today. But there will be school tomorrow, so make sure your kids are up bright and early in the morning!" The newscaster flashed a cheesy smile at the camera before moving on to the next story. The short-haired girl moved back from the TV as the school's picture disappeared, shoulders sagging.
"What, did you think you'd be on TV because your school was?" Claire sat next to her sister, a hand on the younger twin's shoulder. "That was silly. The probably just wanted the outside." She gave her sister a little nudge and smiled. "But hey, you could still make it as an actress. We just...need to fix your face."
"It's not my face that needs fixing," Nora laughed, nudging Claire back. She put on a happy smile, but secretly, she was terribly confused. Why had't the screaming boy been on the news? It was certainly something news-worthy, and definitely unusual. But for some reason, she had a feeling Claire wouldn't want to hear about it. For the first time in her life, she thought it would be unwise to mention this kind of thing to her sister. So she kept it to herself, allowing Claire to drag her off to the kitchen for dinner.
As the days flew by, Nora found herself becoming more and more intrigued by the missing boy. Why had the teletran not worked for him? Where had he gone? What was that reporter doing? And why had he been talking to a government employee? The redhead was so full of questions she felt like she would explode. So when she saw the same reporter three days after the incident, she practically sprinted over to him. It was a Friday afternoon and she didn't have any plans, so she had decided to walk home. Obviously, she had made the right choice.
As she approached the man with the camera, it became clear he had been interviewing another man. Lying on its side between the two was a vendor's cart, hot dogs spread out all across the ground. But the thing that had caught Nora's eye first was the umbrella. It was yellow, just like all the vendor umbrellas. But this one had a large rectangle spray-painted on it, with the word "bookie" in the middle of the quadrilateral. As the girl got closer, she could hear yet another argument between the reporter and his companion.
"Sir, I just want to know what happened," he said. But the vendor was in no mood to talk. He just kept shouting "I a'int no bookie!" over and over. After about three minutes of shouting, the reporter let out a sigh of defeat and turned away, finally noticing the redhead. Although, to be more precise, he didn't notice her so much as he did her uniform. "You go to Silverlight High, don't you?"
The girl nodded eagerly, glad she had finally found the one person who could give her information. Before she could even think about it, she blurted out the question she had been dying to ask for nearly a week. "What happened to that boy?'
For a moment, the reporter said nothing, only blinking in confusion. But his face soon lit up like a Christmas tree. "You want to know about the screamer?" His eyes flickered to the still-shouting vendor before going back to the girl in front of him. "If you want to know more, come with me. We can't talk here." Not waiting to see if she followed, the reporter turned and began walking towards the Rolanian Center, otherwise known as the Little Square.
But of course Nora followed him. She could practically feel her excitement growing with every step. Finally, her questions would be answered! But as her excitement grew, so did her confusion. Was it really safer to talk somewhere that was more populated than where they were? However, her unspoken question. True, the Little Square was bustling with activity. But there was one little shop that seemed almost deserted. It was this shop that the reported led her into. He rang the bell on the front counter, and a muffled "Coming!" issued from a door behind said counter.
Nora took the opportunity to look around the shop. It was a simple clothing store, although the fabric was some of the ugliest the girl had ever seen. In the window, a mannequin stood in the absolute worst outfit. The shoes were a dull brown, contrasting immensely with the neon yellow socks. Hanging off the knee-high abominations, were little purple pom-poms, attached to the socks by black strings. Moving up, the mannequin had on a deep blue dress, although it looked more like a sack. The bottom half clung tightly to the plastic legs, but the top half was so loose it looked like an oversize T-shirt. And right in the middle was a large orange heart, made entirely out of craft feathers. To top it all off, there was a neon pink hat tied with a green ribbon. The whole outfit screamed "look at me," and Nora couldn't help but wonder who in their right mind would ever set foot in the store. But she didn't have a whole lot of time to think about it, because the muffled voice finally revealed itself.
It belonged to an old man, probably in his late eighties. He still had a full head of hair, although it was short and pure snowy white. "Max, good to see you!" he said, completely ignoring the redhead. The two exchanged greetings before the blonde reporter nodded his head towards the back room. The older man picked up the unspoken gesture and nodded in return. The two disappeared from view, although Nora could just barely hear the muffled voices.
"...wanted to know about the screamer..."
"We can't be sure..."
"...their kid, she has to..."
"...fed lies, she could be..."
"I don't think so."
"...have to test..."
There was a moment of silence before the older man spoke one last time. And this sentence was one Nora was able to hear perfectly clear.
"We'll question her and see how it goes. If she passes, I'll let her in. But if I get the tinniest bad hunch, we'll have to lock her up...forever."
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