The Candy Shop War, Vol. 2: Arcade Catastrophe (10 page)

“No time at all,” Lindy replied. “Long enough to hear what Pigeon just asked. How do you always know when I’m listening?”

“Every magician has his secrets,” Mr. Stott replied. “Run along while Pigeon and I finish our conversation. He has some private concerns.”

“I know exactly what concerns him,” Lindy said. “I don’t need to eavesdrop to figure that out. He met with the Battiatos today, and it’s getting messy.”

“This is none of your business, young lady,” Mr. Stott insisted.

Lindy glared at him incredulously. “But all of my friends are involved! What’s my defect? Why can’t I help?”

“Your defect is that I’m your father,” Mr. Stott answered. “It might not seem fair, but this situation is too hazardous for me to let my daughter participate.”

“Oh, right,” Lindy complained. “What a great protector. You’ll send all the kids in the neighborhood into harm’s way, just not me.”

“I’m not sending anybody anywhere,” Mr. Stott replied calmly. “I am not Pigeon’s guardian. I have no authority over him. He came to me for advice. Should I turn him away?”

“Maybe not,” Lindy said. “But do you have to give him magical candy? Isn’t that encouraging him?”

“If I feel the candy might help protect him, I’m willing to provide some.”

Lindy looked to Pigeon. “What’s going on, Pidge? I want to help.”

Pigeon locked eyes with Mr. Stott. The warning there was unmistakable. “Sorry, Lindy. Your dad is your dad.”

“Is he?” she replied harshly. “Then why don’t I remember him? Why do we hardly know each other?” She faced Mr. Stott, her expression livid. “I’m not asking to go to an edgy rock concert. I’m not asking to hang out with druggies. I’m asking for something good! I just want to help. If you won’t let me go with them, at least fill me in on what’s happening!”

“I know you too well,” Mr. Stott said. “If you had details, you wouldn’t be able to resist. This is for your own good, honey. Call me the worst parent ever, but my first priority is keeping you safe.”

“While putting everybody else in danger?” Lindy challenged.

“I have my reasons,” Mr. Stott said, getting frustrated. “This isn’t safe for anybody, but you would be in even greater danger than the others.”

“Because I’m stupider?” Lindy blurted. “Because I’m less capable?”

Mr. Stott turned to Pigeon. “I’m sorry, Pigeon. I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this discussion at another opportunity.”

Lindy backed out the door. “My mistake, Dad. Don’t let me disturb your little powwow with my friend. I don’t want to mess things up for Pigeon. I just wanted to help. It’s bad enough to be useless. I’d hate to also be problematic. I’ll find something that suits me better. Maybe I’ll go upstairs and stare at the wall.”

She closed the door briskly. After a moment of silence, Mr. Stott went and peeked to make sure she was gone.

“You understand why I can’t let her in on this,” Mr. Stott said.

“The Battiatos agreed,” Pigeon replied. “We don’t know who we’re up against. If our enemies figured out Lindy’s identity, she really could be in serious trouble.”

“Even if her memories remain truly irretrievable, once her identity leaks, she will become a target. Some magicians might want revenge. Others may aspire to enlist her. None of the consequences would be good for her—or for us.” Mr. Stott frowned. “I don’t relish keeping your activities from her. She’s already curious enough about where she came from without adding new secrets to the mix.”

“She thinks you adopted her,” Pigeon said.

Mr. Stott held up a finger. “Which is not a lie. I have adopted her. She also believes her parents are long dead, which is probably true. I told her she had an accident and lost her memory, which is generally true, although I’ve concealed some key details. I told her that John placed her with me because, as a magician, I was better suited to handle a unique case like hers than most parents would be. Also true.”

“Does she keep asking about the details?” Pigeon asked.

“I try not to lie outright,” Mr. Stott said. “I told her that even John knew little about her origin. I told her I’m not sure if she’ll ever regain her lost memories. I maintain that I know virtually nothing about her past—which is mostly accurate, by the way. I knew little about the magician Belinda White. But I do know that she became our Lindy, which information I withhold.”

Pigeon scraped the last of the chocolate sludge from his mug. “Everything is so complicated.”

Mr. Stott harrumphed. “Life gets that way.”

“You think we should go undercover and try to take these guys down?” Pigeon asked.

“That would be the noble and brave thing to do,” Mr. Stott said. “It might even be the wisest thing to do, considering all the trouble that might come unless this magician is stopped. But don’t forget that being noble and brave is one of the most proven ways to die young.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Pigeon replied.

*****

Pigeon lay in bed trying to remember how to fall asleep. Sometimes it was so easy—you just closed your eyes and relaxed, and the rest took care of itself. That was not the case tonight. No position seemed comfortable. No trick could stop his mind from worrying about what new dangers the morning would bring.

Nate had called earlier. Apparently they had caused quite a stir by using Peak Performance to dominate the arcade games. Nate and the others had stopped by the candy shop after Pigeon had left, and Mr. Stott had essentially given his blessing for them to keep trying to infiltrate the arcade by winning tickets.

Pigeon rolled to his other side, curling his knees and bundling his covers, hoping to find a perfect position that would finally let him slip off to sleep and leave his stresses behind. He was supposed to go to Arcadeland tomorrow with the others and keep winning tickets. Nate had basically been thrown out today for that very thing! How did he expect tomorrow to be any different?

The door to his bedroom nudged open. Was Aunt Rhonda checking on him? No, it was Diego.

“Hey, boy,” Pigeon said softly. “What are you doing in here?” The Labrador normally slept in his own house out back. Maybe Aunt Rhonda had left a door ajar.

“Lindy opened a window,” the dog replied.

“You’re talking,” Pigeon said.

“Lindy brought Brain Feed. She’s waiting on the back patio.”

“She wants to talk?” Pigeon asked.

“She seems a little upset,” Diego replied.

Suddenly Pigeon wished he had played possum when Diego entered. The uncomfortable exchange between Lindy and Mr. Stott had been bad enough. He didn’t want to try to manage her curiosity on his own.

“Can you tell her I’m sleeping?” Pigeon asked halfheartedly.

“She ordered me to wake you,” Diego said.

“All right,” Pigeon relented. He got out of bed and put on some slippers. His plaid pajamas looked sort of goofy, so he grabbed a robe from his closet and slid his arms into the loose sleeves. “Do I look okay?”

“I’m a bad judge,” Diego said. “Dogs don’t require artificial coverings.”

“That didn’t stop Mom from dressing you as a cowboy for Halloween.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Pigeon led Diego to the back door.

“Stupid hat,” Diego muttered.

“Sorry I brought it up,” Pigeon said.

“And that bandanna! Cruel and unusual.”

They crept out to the patio.

Lindy stepped out of the shadows. “Hi, Pidge.”

“You’re out late,” Pigeon said.

“I snuck away,” Lindy replied. “I needed to talk to somebody.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Where did I come from, Pigeon?” Lindy asked. “Who am I really?”

“How should I know?”

Lindy wrung her hands. “Somebody must know something! Everyone acts like my origin is some big mystery. I have a feeling there’s more to it than people are telling me.”

Pigeon tried to collect his thoughts. She was wasting no time in taking the conversation exactly to the subject he most wanted to avoid. “We didn’t meet you until after we defeated Mrs. White.” At least that was true in a sense. She looked like she expected him to elaborate. “None of us knew much about your past. One of the guys who worked for Mrs. White made it clear that you had no family. John picked Mr. Stott to watch over you because he thought he would take good care of you and could accept your mysterious background. We all care about you, Lindy.”

“I know you care,” Lindy said. “I don’t doubt that. Dad is just so protective lately. He has let me do some crazy things with you guys, but he seems extra worried about me trying to help John. Maybe he’s just being cautious, but it started me thinking. It makes me wonder if he knows more than he’s telling me.”

Pigeon licked his lips. His fingers felt fidgety. “I don’t know anything.”

“I’m sure you’re not supposed to spill any secrets,” Lindy said. “But we’re friends, right?”

“Of course.”

Her voice became more sincere. It sounded like she might cry. “I’m having a hard time, Pidge. A really hard time. Can you imagine having no memories of yourself? Of the person you call Dad? Of any friends or family? I can’t shake the suspicion that you all know more than you’re saying. It’s there in certain looks you give each other. I know you guys think you’re protecting me from something, but it’s making me crazy. I need somebody to be straight with me.”

Pigeon felt unsure how to respond. He had no right to give her the information she wanted. Knowledge of her past could end up harming her. It could harm everyone.

“Everybody clams up when I talk like this,” Lindy said. “I don’t push the issue too often. At first I felt too off balance to really worry about it. I just wanted to fit in. But lately it has been gnawing at me. When Dad banned me from helping you guys, he forced me to really confront the issue. Let me tell you my guess. I’m worried . . .” She put her hands up to her face, as if hesitant to utter the next words. She finally whispered them: “I’m worried that my parents were bad guys. Evil magicians, maybe, working with Mrs. White. And John Dart had to lock them away. Or maybe they got killed? I was devastated, so somebody erased my memory. Then John felt guilty and brought me to live with Mr. Stott.”

Pigeon felt tense. She expected a response. He felt like the truth must be written all over his face. Her guess wasn’t too far off—except her parents weren’t the evil magicians. She was. What had Mr. Stott said about handling these inquiries? He tried to respond without blatantly lying.

“I don’t know anything about your parents,” Pigeon said. “As far as I know, they might have been really good people. Maybe they were hexed by bad magicians or something. Maybe Mrs. White kept them prisoner. Maybe they weren’t magical at all.”

“Maybe some big spell killed my parents and wiped my memory at the same time,” Lindy said. “Somebody threw a magic bagel of power at us and I lost my family.”

“Not all magic is edible,” Pigeon pointed out.

“Do you get why I’m freaked?” Lindy asked. “If my real parents were good people, why all the secrecy? They must have been bad. It must be a dirty secret. Maybe I hated them. Maybe I loved them. I might never know. Am I supposed to believe that I lost my memory and nobody knows how it happened or where I came from? Seriously? What happened before I turned up in that candy shop with you, Nate, Summer, and John? My life didn’t start at that moment. What happened before?”

“What did John tell you?”

“Dad and John both told me that I lost my memory by accident. They told me no magic can restore it. They claimed not to understand the spell. They said they never knew my parents, but they’re certain that I have no living relatives. My first memories from the candy shop are hazy. Everything was so new and unfamiliar. I felt deeply confused. I hardly heard what anyone was saying. It was as if in that instant, fully conscious, I had just been born.”

“If Mr. Stott can’t explain what happened,” Pigeon said, “I don’t have a prayer.”

“Does it have to do with Mrs. White?” Lindy asked. “The lady who owned the candy shop before Dad? Was I her prisoner? Her helper? I know she was a big villain.”

“John and Mr. Stott defeated her,” Pigeon said. “We helped. Nate especially. She went away. She won’t be back.”

“Did Mrs. White do something to my parents?” Lindy asked. “I mean, my first memories are at her candy shop.”

“I don’t know, Lindy,” Pigeon said, terrified by how close her questions came to revealing the truth. “I’d never met you before that day. I don’t know much about what Mrs. White was doing, except that she was trying to take over the town with her magic. I was a captive there myself. Have you considered that there might not be any big conspiracy to hide your past? Maybe nobody can answer your questions because nobody knows?”

After staring at Pigeon searchingly, Lindy sighed. “It stinks getting left out. I want to help John. I want to help you guys.”

“We don’t even understand what’s going on yet,” Pigeon said.

“What do you know?”

Pigeon paused. How much should he say? Anything?

“Have you ever felt left out, Pigeon?” Lindy asked.

“All the time,” he confessed. “I mean, I used to feel like that all the time. Before I became friends with Summer, Trevor, and Nate.”

“That’s how I’m feeling,” Lindy said. “I’m wondering if I have any real friends.”

She
was
his friend. He couldn’t tell her where she came from. Shouldn’t he tell her something? Making her feel friendless and desperate might be worse than telling her that she used to be a psychotic, murderous magician.

“You can win tickets at Arcadeland,” Pigeon finally said. “That new arcade in Walnut Hills.”

“You just blew my mind,” Lindy said dryly. “Why haven’t I heard about this on the news? How have they covered this up?”

“There’s more,” Pigeon said uncomfortably. “You use the tickets to buy prizes. The most expensive prizes are four hand stamps that grant membership into four different clubs. We think the kids in the clubs can get magic candy like Mr. Stott makes. We’re not positive about anything. We have no idea who runs Arcadeland. We’re not even sure about the clubs. But we’re investigating.”

“You’re trying to earn tickets to join the clubs?” Lindy asked. “So you can find out what’s really going on?”