07. The mysterious solution

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I took the paper home with me. Hey, I wasn't after the money, all right? I just... well, to be honest, I didn't quite know myself why I took it. I just did. And it wasn't like I just took off with it. Of course I thought Giacomo had just forgotten his paper, and any moment he would come dashing back and would start thanking me profusely for having saved him from the biggest blunder of his life. I mean, a homeless guy doesn't win $ 5000 every day, right?

But he never came. In the end, Miss Ellis called for us to go, and I had to abandon my post. So I took the paper with me. What else should I have done? I couldn't just let it lie there for anyone to find.

I hardly heard anything of my friends' talk about the trip on the way back to school. Nor was I particularly chatty in the cable cart. Enrique probably had the best, most quiet drive of his life. At home, I grabbed my father's huge encyclopedia – you know, one of those you'd think you'd need a crane to lift – carried it up to my room and locked the door behind me. I stared at the huge volume in my arms. That was one kind of book I never thought to be reading of my own free will. Okay, just like my usual reading, it did have a hot guy on the cover – a musclebound dude who was lifting up a globe – but nowhere was there a beautiful girl in sight. And the guy looked kind of silly. The hands of the guys on the covers of my books usually had better things to grip than a globe. Oh well, I suppose the monster-book would serve its purpose.

I flopped down on my bed and started checking answers without delay.

After only five minutes, I began to curse my parents for not having agreed to get me that laptop I had begged for last Christmas. But no. Give their little girl a computer? No, they couldn't do that in good conscience. Who knew what an impressionable teenager might stumble across in the world wide web: online gaming, porn, or worst of all: atheism! So no computer for me, no cellphone, no nothing. No, that wasn't true. I had an encyclopedia, and still a little patience left. Not much though, and it was running out quickly. Nevertheless I continued checking, answer after answer. Because if there was one thing that was equal to my impatience, it was my curiosity And the farther I got, the more curious, incredulous and fascinated I became.

As far as I could tell, every single answer to every single question in the Chronicle crossword was correct. And they weren't any old questions like 'What film bears the name of a famous sunken ship?' but stuff like 'The number of electrons in a 33As molecule' and 'The Latin name for butterflies' and 'Birthplace of Anaximander', which, apparently, was Miletus. Great. And who the hell is Anaximander?

That was not the most important question that occupied me, however. The most important question was: did Giacomo do this all by himself? Granted, a crossword wasn't exactly the best way to judge a person's intellect. But some of the stuff that was in there was pretty heavy. I knew I certainly couldn't have answered any of it. Granted, that wasn't saying much, but still...

With a resounding thud, I slammed shut the encyclopedia and let my eyes wander over the crossword once more. For the first time, I noticed several stains of tomato sauce on the paper – Pasta. O yes, Gicacomo had studied this page.

But had he completed the crossword himself or just wondered if he could turn someone else's work into ready cash? In either case, why didn't he return for the paper? I might not be very experienced in money matters, but a guy who got his dinner from the St. Christopher Shelter for the Home- and Hearthless shouldn't be able to turn down $ 5000 with impunity.

Apparently though that was exactly what Giacomo had done.

So what should I do next? Send in the solution myself and retire to the Caymans? Yea, the thought occurred to me, I admit. I'm only human, after all. But there were several weighty counterarguments. Firstly, I was a minor, so I couldn't send in the solution myself. Secondly, if I asked my parents to do it for me, they'd ask me how I got my hands on a crossword solution that wasn't in my handwriting, ground me for refusing to answer, and I'd never see one cent of the money. Thirdly, and lastly, it would mean cheating Giacomo out of more money than he had probably ever had in his entire life. And I just couldn't do that. I couldn't.

If there really is a God, someone ought to tell him he should have left out the conscience when he created humans. It sucks!

“Ange?” My mother knocked on my door and walked in without waiting for my answer. She places her parental responsibilities far over my right to privacy. “What are you doing?”

Hurriedly, I hid the paper behind my back and held up the huge encyclopedia. “Homework. I'm doing a history paper. Did you know that Anaximander was born at Miletus?”

“Who's Anaximander?”

“Haven't quite figured out that, mom.”

“Oh, Ange...”

“I'm working on it, mom! Promise.”

She came over and tousled my wild blond curls. “I'm glad to hear that you're finally trying to focus on school. You know, lately I've been a bit worried. You've made friends with a few rather... odd children and your marks haven't been that good.”

My mom, the optimist. I would call an F what it's supposed to stand for: f****** failed. But no, my mom thinks of it as 'not that good'. Well, everybody needed a dream to live in.

“You're going to do fine, I know it.” She leaned down and despite my defensive measures, managed to kiss me on the forehead. “I love you, my angel.”

“Mom, I told you not to call me that.”

“Of course, my Angel. I'll be downstairs if you need anything.”

She left, closing the door behind me. Disgusted, and against my will also slightly touched, I wiped my forehead with my sleeve and only wished I had a bottle of disinfectant. Slowly, my thoughts drifted away from my mother and back to the solution to the mystery before me. Or rather, I thought wryly, looking at the crossword solution, the mystery of the solution before me.

A plan began to form in my mind. A plan that, to my slight surprise, suited me admirably. Apart from maybe providing an interesting hobby, it would give me a chance to speak to Giacomo again. And if everything went right, it would even improve my marks. So nobody could object to me going back to the homeless shelter, surely? After all, I was only curious about the crossword. My interest in Giacomo was totally harmless. Yea, totally.

I went down, said my Grace and ate my dinner, noticing only afterwards that I hadn't noticed what it tasted like. That should have tipped me off that I wasn't my usual self. I was so absent-minded that I didn't even catch one of Cathy's especially nice remarks about me. I was thinking of something else. Only when I had undressed and gone to bed and I lay on the mattress, staring up at the white ceiling, did I realize what it was: I was thinking of a face. Against the white ceiling, I could clearly see it in front of me. The face of an incredibly good-looking guy. Do you want to know whose face it was? Well, I'll give you a tip: it wasn't Anaximander's.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Mixing my cereal next morning was a totally new experience: looking around the kitchen, I realized with delight that now, having helped in the shelter's kitchen, I actually knew what some of the stuff lying around here was for. Absentmindedly, I chewed my cereal and thought about how best to approach Miss Ellis. But I really didn't need to worry about that, did I? She would be pleased that her excursion had had such an effect on me.

My mom went past me, busy riffling through a catalog.

“I've put a peanut butter sandwich with pickles in your backpack, honey, if that's all right.”

“Hmm... what?”

I didn't hear what my mother said, still thinking about Miss Ellis. She probably would even think I was an especially dedicated student and conscientious citizen. That would be a good joke.

“A peanut butter sandwich, dear. With pickles.”

“O yea. Sounds delicious. Thanks, mom.”

My mother stopped riffling through her catalog and looked at me. Cathy on the other side of the table stopped applying lipstick and looked at me.

“Are you ill?” my sister asked. There was no concern in her voice, but that would have been too much to hope for. At least she had asked. Maybe she wasn't the totally self-absorbed bitch I'd always taken her to be. Oh yeah, and maybe I had eleven toes on my left foot.

I flashed her a radiant smile. “Nope. I'm fine. In fact, I feel great. It's a wonderful morning, isn't it?”

“Em... I guess so.” I could tell she totally hated to agree with me on anything.

“Well then, bubye. I've got places to be.” Shoving the last bit of cereal into my mouth, I picked up my backpack and danced out the door. Behind me I heard Cathy say: “Since when is the imp eager to get to school?”

“I think she's starting to do really well,” my mother replied in her sweetest tone of voice. “I've noticed an enormous improvement since yesterday.”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

“Hello?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you been at rude camp recently?”

Startled, I looked up at Enrique. “What do you mean?”

“Just that you've seemed to have reached new heights of impoliteness. Normally, when you don't pay the fare, you apologize afterwards.”

“O, Enrique, I'm so sorry. I've got a lot on my mind right now. I'm really, really sorry.”

“So you are going to pay.”

“No, I meant I was sorry for not saying that I was sorry for not paying.”

“That's nice of you. So I'm supposed to let you ride for free again.”

“Just this once, please?”

“Just this once.”

“Yes.”

“You mean just this once like yesterday.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“And the morning before that, and the morning before the morning before that, and, oh, let me think, the morning before the morning before the morning before that.”

“Are you quite finished?”

“I suppose.” The old driver grunted noncommittally and turned away from me. “You're going to get yourself into trouble one of these days, you know that?”

“What do you mean, 'going to'?”

I think that made him smile a tiny little bit. Although it was hard to tell under the enormous mustache.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

“The school trip we undertook yesterday was very interesting, wasn't it?” Anastasia asked, dreamily.

We were sitting underneath the shadow of a tall pine in Washington Square, each with a cup of coffee. School policy dictated that we were too young to drink coffee, so of course Bert had added it to his repertoire just after the hot dogs, and was making a killing.

“You can say that again!” Grinning, Jen pulled a few sachets with white powder from her pocket and dangled them in front of us. “I got those from one the people I met there. Want some?”

“Jen,” Sandra admonished, “If those are what I think they are...” She stopped and gasped as Jen ripped one of the sachets open and tipped the contents into her cup. She looked at our startled faces.

“What?” she asked. “I like mine better with sugar. And Bert charges extra for that. 50 Cents, can you imagine? At St Christopher's, its for free.”

She gave me a not so gentle nudge. “Ange was busy flirting with a hotty in a dark corner.”

I blushed furiously, but was spared an answer because at that precise moment, a pigeon swooped down and tried to pick at what was left of Jen's hot dog. Only a minute or two later the bell rang, and for a change, I was eager to return to class. In about three hours, social studies would be over and I could ask Miss Ellis. Then I would know if I would get the opportunity to get to the bottom of the one and only mystery that was all of a sudden making my life exciting.

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

“Become a volunteer at St Christopher's?” Miss Ellis looked surprised, to say the least. I must admit I was a little hurt that she would think it so strange that I would like to do good works, but I suppose I couldn't blame her. Social studies was just over. We had been called upon to tell of our experiences at the homeless shelter. Thank God Miss Ellis hadn't picked me to tell of my experiences. The thought alone made me wish to be able to disappear into thin air. Now, after class, I was standing in front of Miss Ellis's desk with a hopeful puppy-dog expression on my face.

“Well,” Miss Ellis began slowly, “I suppose I can't think of any reasons why you couldn't, if you really wanted too; although I must admit I didn't expect my trip to have such an immediate effect on any of my students.”

“I've always been very impressed by what you have taught and shown us,” I said, earnestly. That much was absolutely true. A small smile appeared on Miss Ellis's normally stern face.

“Thank you, Angela. Yes, you certainly can become a volunteer at St Christopher's if you want to. I shall call father Elliot and tell him to expect you.”

“And...” I hesitated, then forged on. “And what about my parents? Perhaps you remember their attitude.”

“Ah, yes.” Her nostrils flared. “That too you can leave to me. I shall speak to your father and make sure that you can go.”

“Thank you!” To my surprise and hers, too, I think, I threw my arms around Miss Ellis and hugged her tightly. “Thank you so much, Miss Ellis.”

“Th-that's all right, Angela. Now hurry, or you'll be late for biology.”

“What was all that about?” Jen asked suspiciously when I joined her and the other two at the classroom door.

“O, nothing really. I just told her how much I liked the trip.”

For some reason I didn't feel like talking about this, not even to my best friend. In my gut I knew that I had to get to the bottom of Giacomo's secret – and that I had to do it alone. Was he just stupid like Debby said? I seriously doubted it. Was he in fact as smart as he was hot, as I suspected? Well, I would know soon enough. I had a plan.

But even if my plan would work, it wouldn't answer the real question: If he wasn't stupid, why was he playing stupid? Why was he hiding? Who was he? And most important of all: why the devil did I care, anyway?

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Now I have a big question for you - do any of you know who Anaximander is?? ;)

No looking up in Wikipedia!

The first smart wattpadder who knows it gets a chapter dedication!

And as always, if anybody wants to follow / vote, please do! I love it! I devour votes for breakfast! (though not the followers, they are much too nice people to eat)

Cheers

Robert 

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