Zenon's Game Chapter 157

~Third person POV~

A convertible sped round the corner and skidded to a momentary halt by the sidewalk.

The window rolled down and Bryce yelled from the driver seat, "GET IN! GET IN!"

His new car had no handles but the butterfly doors opened quickly.

Axel came sprinting down his front lawn, holding his shirt in his hand. He jumped over his fence and into the car.

"Go! Go!" Axel exclaimed, one arm through the t-shirt.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Bryce muttered and hit his foot on the gas, "Let's see what this baby can do."

The needle on the speedometer rapidly moved clockwise as the car sped through the streets, breaking most traffic codes.

Axel was trying to ring Zenon from the car, "We need to get hold of Zenon!"

No answer.

"Try calling Candace!"

I walked with the box in my hands. I had dug it out of my back garden and sprayed it with some perfume. The stench was intolerable.

What was I doing?

This was madness. I was a one-person funeral procession.

I texted Zenon: I'm giving Roger back

Zenon was with Layton Hayes, so I didn't expect much of a response. A life chat with his rival is something I wish I could've seen. Before that street fight, they could barely be in the same room together. Now they were... friends?

I'll never fully understand boys.

I found the house. Number 34 is what Nicole had told me. The curtains in the windows were flowery and there was a pale pink doormat at the entrance. The garden was overgrown and in bad shape. Flowers had wilted by the house.

I rang the doorbell and waited.

I waited for a minute that turned into two. I rang the doorbell again. I didn't want to leave the box at her doorstep. It didn't feel right.

A lock unbolted, followed by a second and a third. Finally, the door opened.

A frail old lady in a colorful dress opened the door. She was very old, and her gray hair was part wispy, part curly.

Blackmailer, is that you?

The kind old lady said, "What do you want?"

"I'm very sorry to disturb you," I apologized, "And to be the bearer of bad news."

"What's in the box? I told the girl scouts not to come," she said, grappling hold of an umbrella that was beside her door. Did she think I was threatening her?

"I'm not a girl scout. Scout's honor," I joked and regretted it instantly. "I really don't want to be the bearer of bad news ma'am, but I was told that you had a cat-"

"Winnifred! Have you found her?" she opened the door wide and looked around, hoping to see her cat playing in the grass in her front lawn.

I slowly presented the box to her, "Please don't open this. We found Winnifred in my backyard. Someone had... killed her."

"What are you talking about?!" she screeched at me, "Winnifred is alive! She's not inside that thing."

That's partly true. To be fair, we thought Roger was in there.

The old lady was staring at the box like I was carrying poison.

"I'm so sorry," I lowered my head in shame, "I don't know what happened. We found her like this and-"

"What have you done to her?!" the woman shrieked, "Tell me this is a prank! Where is Winnie?"

"I'm so sorry-"

She grabbed the box out of my hands but didn't open it. I don't think we both could've stood through that.

She stared down and read the name that I had carved onto the side. "Who's Roger?!"

"Winnie had many lives," I explained, "But we want to find who did this to her. Do you remember anyone near you on the day-"

"You young kids don't care about lives anymore! You watch your TV and play your video games and you think that violence is a game. What did a cat ever do to you?!"

"Nothing. I'm sorr-"

"Your generation has never lived through any hardships! You never had responsibilities like fighting for your country. All you do is try to act tough."

"I'm really sorry for-"

"I won't forget this! I'm calling the cops and ASPCA on you!" she was shaking, "What's your name?"

"Candace Turner. It's Candace with 'ie' at the end. I live on number four," I said sadly.

"Get off my property! You're trespassing!"

She waved the umbrella in my face and I dodged it to avoid getting an eye poked out. I ran down the front of the steps, hearing her curses get more and more colorful. As colorful as her dress.

I was almost at the end of the street, when I looked down at my phone. Three missed calls from Axel. And one text:

Where iz he

No punctuation. No explanation. That wasn't like Axel. Something must be wrong.

I had to find Zenon.

I thought I'd seen the last of this tricycle. The one with the pink ribbons on the handlebars. Turns out, it's the one mode of transportation that's always there for me.

I left my car in the school parking lot on Saturday, so I needed to bike there to get it.

"Hey Axel," I exhaled into my phone, pedaling like crazy on the little tricycle, "I've been trying to call you back. I'm on my way to get Zenon."

One tricycle at a time.

I rang my little bell at kids trying to cross the street in front of me. They laughed back at me. My face was as pink as the ribbons on the handlebars.