The Bigwoof Conspiracy Read online

  Milo held out a hand. “You’re supposed to shake it,” he said, after a moment.

  “Right.” She put her hand in his and he shook it matter-of-factly. Yeah. You’re not from around here.

  “Well, Lucy Sladan,” said Milo, “you look pretty good for someone who just got struck by lightning. Aside from all the mud and sticks and stuff.”

  She stared at him blankly. “Struck by what now?”

  “You’d think you’d be on fire or something. Is your hair supposed to be that purple?”

  “Did you say lightning?” Lucy dug around in her backpack for a pen and her notebook, which she opened to a relatively scribble-free page. “Start from the beginning,” she said. “What exactly did you see? Also, where did you come from and what are you doing here?”

  “Whoa. Wait a minute.” Milo raised his palms. “I don’t see a badge, officer. Why don’t you start?”

  “Me?” Lucy crumbled a clump of dirt that was caked to her eyebrows. “I live over there,” she pointed over her shoulder, “and I’m out here because I was looking for…” She paused, pondering the events of the night and how improbable it all seemed. He’ll never believe me.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Milo. “Is it a secret or something?”

  Lucy scowled. “I hate secrets. If everybody knew the truth the world would be a better place.”

  “That’s a bold statement.”

  She took a deep breath. “I was out here chasing a UFO, OK?” She paused for the inevitable laughter.

  “A UFO?” said Milo.

  “Unidentified Flying Object,” said Lucy.

  “I know what it means.”

  “I also saw a big hairy creature that might have been a Sasquatch.”

  “A sask-what?” asked Milo.

  “The famous cryptozoological creature?” said Lucy.

  “Crypto-zoo-a-huh?”

  “Bigfoot.”

  “Oh, right. Wow,” said Milo. “UFO. Bigfoot. That’s … wow.”

  “You must have seen it. It was just over there.” She ran to where the creature had stood moments ago, arms outstretched to indicate its enormous size. “And the UFO was right up there,” she pointed.

  Milo shook his head. “All I saw was a jagged flash of light and your flying body. I didn’t see any Bigfoot.” He smirked.

  There it is. “You don’t believe me.”

  “Well, I mean, come on,” he chuckled.

  How predictable. Nobody would ever believe her. Not without proof. Proof she still didn’t have.

  “Forget it,” said Lucy. “Thanks for making sure I wasn’t dead or whatever.” She shoved her broken camera into her backpack and stomped off.

  “Hey, wait a minute!” Milo chased after her.

  “Sorry,” she said, hopping over a fallen log. “I don’t bring home strangers.”

  “I’m not a stranger.” Milo jogged to catch up. “We’re practically neighbours. And, feel free to laugh at me,” he smiled, “but I was out here doing an art project.”

  Lucy hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulders. “An art project?” she asked. “In the storm?”

  “I was trying to capture the nuances of the lightning.”

  Lucy skipped around a log and on to the path that led back to her house. “Where’s your paintbrush?”

  “I’m not that kind of artist,” he said. “I was following the storm when I stumbled into your clearing. It’s a shame I didn’t get a picture of you being electrified. I could’ve won a Pulitzer.” He hopped gingerly over a bullfrog. “I was taking pictures with a slow shutter speed, but they kept coming out all blurry. Then I figured out how to use the ISO—”

  “Wait a minute.” Lucy stopped. “You have a camera?”

  “Indubitably.” He pulled an expensive-looking digital camera out of his coat pocket.

  “You have a camera.” Lucy dropped her bag and stared at the boy as if seeing him for the first time.

  “Like I said,” said Milo, slowly this time, “I. Was. Taking. Pictures.”

  Lucy awoke to a bright light and a metallic clatter.

  “Arise, young warrior, and face the day,” said her father, securing the metal blinds at the sunny attic window. He was dressed for work at the Sticky Sweet factory. His dark-green coveralls had his name, “Silas”, stitched over a juggling clown, the company mascot.

  “Five more minutes,” Lucy groaned, blocking the sunlight with her arm.

  “I thought you went to bed early last night.” Silas smoothed his black moustache in the full-length mirror.

  “Indubitably,” mumbled Lucy. She sat up and immediately flopped back down again. “I feel super rested.”

  Silas switched on the clock radio at the head of Lucy’s bed. She flinched.

  “The weather station?” he asked. “Seriously?” He tuned it to classic rock, turned the volume up high and bobbed his head to the harmonica solo in “Run Through the Jungle”. “Eggs and toast are on the table, and you’re leaving for school in thirty minutes.” He left the room playing air guitar.

  Lucy stared up at a poster of an astronaut floating in space and replayed the previous night in her head. What were those lights in the sky? Was I really struck by lightning? What was that strange creature? And most baffling of all: What is the deal with Milo Fisher?

  He had walked her home, using his phone as a compass and talking all the while. His family had moved to Sticky Pines about two months ago. He was in eighth grade, one year above her, and he was somehow aware that they had the same lunch period. He’d taken a lot of convincing to agree to let her see his photos.

  “They’re not ready to share,” he had insisted. “I need to edit them first, crop them, bring out the colour.”

  “Don’t do that,” Lucy pleaded. “I’m sure they’re perfect. You seem like a genius. You practically saved my life, right?”

  “I guess you could say that,” he said with a winning smile.

  She pulled the sleeve of his rain slicker. “Promise me you won’t edit them. The pictures have to show nothing but the absolute truth.”

  “Well…” He bit his lip. “OK. I’ll show them to you, unedited, if you agree to come over for dinner first. I only show my work to friends. Do we have a deal?”

  Milo held out his hand. Lucy shook it.

  An overwhelmingly enthusiastic Errol greeted them when they reached the Sladan family’s cabin on Foxglove Lane.

  The dog gave Milo a cursory sniff, then tackled Lucy and licked most of the mud off her face. She was annoyed that he had deserted her, but she couldn’t really blame him. Not everyone had the stomach to confront the very boundaries of this plane of existence.

  “Well,” said Milo, scratching the dog behind the ears, “I’d better get back before they notice I’m not on the premises.” He waved goodbye and disappeared back into the forest, the light from his phone leading the way.

  It occurred to Lucy that it was probably she who ought to have been walking him home through the woods that night. When she finally peeled off her muddy clothes and flopped into bed, it was well past midnight.

  The school day dragged on. Each class seemed longer than the last. Lucy pinched herself to stay awake in English. As usual, she had been one of the only students to actually do the summer reading, and poor Mrs Stricks had to spend the whole class summarising.

  While the tie-dye-clad teacher was busy drawing a giant squid on the blackboard, Lucy passed an intricately folded note to her best friend, Tex, who was doodling at his desk three rows over.

  “X-ed the frontier once again,” Lucy had written, “and I’ve got PROOF. Deets @ lunch.”

  Tex gave Lucy a thumbs-up.

  “Mr Arkhipov.” Mrs Stricks pointedly cleared her throat. “Miss Sladan.”

  Tex quickly went back to drawing a dragon on his binder and Lucy returned to pinching herself to stay awake.

  At last, the lunch bell rang. Lucy stuffed her books into her still-damp backpack as quickly as she could.

  “Luci
ta?” said Mrs Stricks. “A moment, please?”

  “Uh-oh,” Tex whispered as he passed Lucy’s desk. “You are in trouble with the brain police.” He clapped her on the back. “Be strong.”

  Lucy pounded her chest with a fist.

  Tex paused in the doorway. “I will catch you in the cafeteria,” he said. “I cannot wait to hear your latest story.”

  “It’s gonna change your life!” she called after him.

  Mrs Stricks cleared a space between the stacks of paper on her desk and laid out her lunch. This included pesto pasta, an apple, three chocolate chip cookies and a can of Nu Co. Cola.

  “It’s the second week of school and you’re already passing notes in class,” she said, going for a cookie first. “Would you like one?” she offered as she took a bite. “The missus baked them from scratch.”

  Something Lucy appreciated about living in a small town was that everyone knew everything about everybody else. Mrs Stricks’s wife was known as “the Other Mrs Stricks” and she was a bit of an odd duck. Some folks said she was crazy, some even said she was a witch, but everybody agreed she was far and away the best baker in town.

  “Ooh, yes, please,” said Lucy. She accepted a cookie and took an eager bite.

  “Now, my dear,” said Mrs Stricks, flicking a stray crumb off her desk, “which medieval torture method do you think your mother would employ if she caught you passing notes in her class?”

  Lucy’s mother was the school science teacher, a fact that meant it was nearly impossible for Lucy to get away with anything other than scholastic perfection. “I’m super sorry, Mrs Stricks. I swear I won’t pass notes again. Please don’t tell my mom.”

  Mrs Stricks contemplated her cookie. “I’m concerned you’re letting yourself get distracted again, my dear. We don’t want a repeat of last year, do we? Falling asleep in class, forgetting to turn in assignments…”

  “No, ma’am,” Lucy nodded solemnly.

  “Try to stay focused on what’s really important this year, hmm?”

  “I will. I promise.” Lucy waved politely and hurried out the door.

  What’s more important, she thought as she ran down the hallway, lectures on books, or discovering things for people to write books about? She was pretty sure she had her priorities in order.

  She hustled over to the cafeteria, which perpetually smelled like every kind of food at once.

  Sliding her lunch tray along the railing, Lucy stood on tiptoe to see if she could spot Milo Fisher in the crowd. No luck. Hopefully he had made it home OK, what with monsters lurking in the woods and all. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed him before, seeing how … noticeable he was.

  The cafeteria lady handed her a plate of fried food and a carton of chocolate milk, and Lucy made her way to the back tables to sit with Tex.

  Alexei “Tex” Arkhipov had been her best friend since first grade, when his family moved to Sticky Pines from “the mothership”, which is what Lucy called Russia. They had eaten lunch at the same table since they hit the upper grades.

  Tex greeted her with a nod. “So what happened? Did you finally get abducted?”

  “I wish,” she sighed.

  “Did you get a boyfriend or something?”

  “What? No.” Her cheeks reddened. “This is way bigger than that.”

  “Big like the chupacabra living under your porch?”

  “That thing was way too nasty to be a badger.”

  “Big like the poltergeist haunting Hank’s Super Saver?”

  “It’s unusually cold in the frozen food section.”

  “Big like the sea monster in Black Hole Lake?” Tex splurted the contents of a fifth ketchup packet on his plate.

  Lucy scowled. She’d never live that one down. Tex’s mother still wouldn’t let them go out on the lake without supervision. But seriously, that log strongly resembled an abyssal sea serpent. Anyone with the tiniest bit of knowledge on the subject would have made the same mistake.

  “You really need to learn how to swim,” she grumbled.

  “Not in Black Hole Lake I do not.” He crunched a ketchup-coated fish stick.

  “Anyway,” Lucy grinned smugly, “it doesn’t matter.” She had spotted Milo across the room, cleaner and wearing far less plaid than anyone in a ten-mile radius. “My proof is here.”

  Milo waved as he pardoned his way past a table of curious athletes and cheerleaders. “You clean up nicely,” he said when he arrived.

  “Thanks,” said Lucy. “I showered.”

  Tex dropped his fish stick, splattering ketchup on to the faux-granite tabletop. Milo tapped his foot and looked around absently. After nobody said anything for a moment, Lucy realised she was supposed to introduce them.

  “Oh. Milo, this is Tex Arkhipov,” she gestured. “Tex, this is Milo Fisher.”

  Milo reached out a hand for him to shake. Tex slapped it.

  “Fisher…” Tex snapped his fingers. “Your father just bought the Sticky Sweet Company, did he not?”

  “Indeed he did,” said Milo.

  Lucy slapped her forehead. “That’s why I know the name. My dad works at Sticky Sweet.”

  “Small world,” said Milo. He sat next to Lucy and unfolded a slick black lunchbox that was clearly from the future. He opened a small glass container of bright-green beans and started eating them with a metal spork.

  “Is that edamame?” asked Tex.

  “You want some?” asked Milo.

  “Arigato.” Tex bowed.

  Amused, Milo passed Tex the container. “How’s your headache?” he asked Lucy. “Have you recovered from last night?”

  “You were there too?” Tex looked at Lucy incredulously. “What the plop have you been up to, Lucille? And on a Tuesday, no less.” He pounded the table. “Details, please.”

  “Well, firstly,” said Milo, “Lucy got struck by lightning.”

  “Struck by what now?” Tex asked.

  “That’s his interpretation of events,” said Lucy.

  “Awesome,” said Tex. “Did you get any superpowers?”

  “X-ray vision,” Lucy joked. “Nice Minion undies.”

  Tex sneered.

  “Secondly,” said Milo, pouring thick brown sauce over grilled chicken and white rice, “she says she saw mysterious blue lights in the sky.”

  “Pshhh,” Tex scoffed. “I’ve heard that before.”

  “These were different,” Lucy insisted.

  “Did you get a picture?” asked Tex.

  Lucy crossed her arms unhappily.

  Tex chortled.

  “And thirdly,” said Milo, as if he were setting up the punchline to a joke, “she saw Bigfoot.”

  “Bigfoot?” Tex asked loudly. “Bigfoot, Lucille? This is your big news?”

  Lucy’s cheeks flushed as she heard laughter coming from the table behind her. “It’s Lucita, beet eater,” she huffed.

  Tex pointed at her with a fish stick. “You have crossed a sacred line. You swore you would never stoop to squatcher level.”

  “Squatcher?” asked Milo.

  “People obsessed with Sasquatch,” Lucy muttered.

  Milo chuckled while he chewed.

  “I’m not even sure it was Bigfoot,” said Lucy. “It looked … weirder. It had the face of a bulldog.”

  “Like an ugly werewolf?” asked Milo, covering his mouth with his hand.

  “So you saw ‘Bigwoof’?” Tex laughed so hard he almost fell out of his chair.

  Lucy threw a fry at Tex’s head as Milo cracked up.

  “None of you will be laughing after tonight,” Lucy snipped.

  Tex wiped a tear from his eye. “Why? What is happening tonight?”

  “Lucy is joining me for dinner,” Milo answered.

  “Is she?” said Tex, looking far too interested.

  “After which we’ll look through my photos for Evidence of the Unknown.” Milo waved his fingers spookily.

  Tex clucked his tongue as Lucy scraped up the last remains of ketchup with a soggy
fry. “Where did you manage to find someone as loony as you on such short notice?” he asked.

  “The woods.” She shoved the fry in her mouth.

  “Hey, Tex,” a voice shouted from across the room. It was Toli, Tex’s younger brother. “They are letting us play Zork in the library today. Show me how to beat the vampire bat?”

  “Ooh. Classic game,” said Tex. “Give me one minute!” He pushed out his chair and stood. “All right, you tinfoil hats, I am off. Anybody want to join me?”

  “No thanks.” Lucy waved. “Try not to get eaten by a grue.”

  “Solid advice,” said Tex.

  He saluted and marched off with his tray.

  “He seems fun,” said Milo. He took a sip of something green and healthy-looking from a plastic thermos.

  “That’s one way of putting it,” said Lucy. She scooted her chair a bit closer. “So,” she said, her voice low, “did you look through the pictures yet?”

  Milo shook his head. “I was too tired last night. Anyway, I thought it’d be more exciting to wait.”

  “Exciting is an understatement,” Lucy assured him. “Trust me, Milo Fisher. This is gonna blow your mind.”

  “That’s a big claim, Lucy Sladan.” He raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

  “Never,” she said. “Think you can handle it?”

  He grinned. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  Following Milo’s detailed instructions, Lucy turned off Douglas Road and cruised through an open gateway on to a long private driveway. The sparkly quartz gravel made a satisfying crunch under the tyres of her mountain bike. The Fishers’ vast property was surrounded by a tall fence, making it one of the few places in Sticky Pines Lucy had never explored before.

  The trees parted, revealing a tall modern lodge with glass walls all along the ground floor, quite distinct from the small pine cabins that customarily dotted the local landscape. Jeez, do the Fishers live in a hotel?

  Lucy slid to a stop by the porch and set her bike on its kickstand. Catching her reflection in the window of a black SUV parked out front, she ran her fingers through her wind-mussed hair, then tromped up the steps and rang the bell. Milo appeared before the chimes stopped, his brown hair damp and freshly combed.