The Four - Chapter Two

Please read Chapter One first.

https://www.youngwriterssociety.com/work/CherryScr...

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Annette reached the bridge in a few minutes, huffing and puffing the entire way. She slowed her pace as soon as the bridge was in sight, observing the people there. There were three people fishing from the edge, and a few older ladies grouped together on the bench, talking and watching the sea. There was also a trio of children talking on the side of the bridge. Annette didn’t see the lady in pink anywhere, so she decided to approach the children. They were a peculiar looking bunch, and the only ones by the bridge that differed from the usual crowd. Annette stepped up to them.

“Hello, I was just wondering if you three were perhaps sent here by a young woman in a pink jumpsuit?”

One of the children looked amused. He was a boy with red hair in a crew cut. Annette felt he would fit in better in a business meeting, not at the park, for he was wearing a crisp Oxford shirt topped with a blue v-neck vest, with wrinkleless dark slacks. “Are you the fourth?” he asked. “I presume we all have nearly been kidnapped?”

Now it was Annette’s turn to be surprised, though she supposed she shouldn’t be. “Why, that’s exactly what happened.”

“Anyway, let’s get on with the introductions!” a girl said. She was Hispanic and had a jet black bob. To Annette, she seemed to have endless energy; the whole time she had been bouncing in place. “I was told that I would meet four other children here, but right now there are only three. I can’t wait any longer. My name is Mona Lisa Rosales, and I am thirteen years young. What about you all?”

“Well, I’m Annette Ellis, and if you want to know my age, I’m-,” Annette said.

“Wait, let me guess. You’re 12,” Mona Lisa said.

Annette smiled and nodded.

“And you,” she gestured to the other boy, who had walnut colored skin and shaggy curls, “are 11.”

“What?” he cried. “How did you know that? And you knew Annette’s age as well!”

“Well, I only know your age, not your name. So tell me, what is your name?” she asked him.

The boy began to answer, but Annette interrupted. If Mona Lisa somehow knew both their ages, did she know their names? “Wait, Mona Lisa, guess his name.”

Mona Lisa shrugged. “Alright, fine. But you should just know that I’m no good at that sort of thing. Hmm…you look like a Gerald. Yes, Gerald James. That is my guess.”

“Gerald James?” the boy repeated with a frown. “No, my name’s Milo Thompson. But how did you know my age? Was it just a lucky guess?”

“Well, I just have a knack for knowing ages. I just look at a person, and I…know,” Mona Lisa explained. “Like I look at Carrot-Top over here and know that he’s 12.

The boy’s face turned slightly red as he got angry and he said, “I don’t know what tricks you’re trying to pull here, ‘knowing’ my age and all that, but I don’t believe it for a second. Those kinds of things simply don’t happen. Also, do not call me ‘Carrot-Top.’ My name is Calvin. Please call me that.”

“Why, that is a lovely name!” Mona Lisa cried. “I could come up with so many good nicknames! What do you think of Cal? Ooh! Or Cal-the-Pal!”

Milo tried to calm things down, but Calvin and Mona Lisa ignored him. “Calvin, Mona Lisa, it would probably be better to—”

Calvin made a sour expression. “I told you, call me by my name, Calvin Holmes.”

Mona Lisa’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Holmes, you say? I see you’re quite the detective, aren’t ya, Sherlock?”

Calvin got even angrier. “Call. Me. Calvin. Nothing else,” he managed to say.

“Fine, fine, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up,” Mona Lisa said.

“We need to figure out what we need to do now,” Annette said, trying to distract them before another argument was started, and besides, they did need to figure out what to do, anyway.

“I know, we were, before Mona Lisa here started calling me irrelevant names,” Calvin said.

“Irrelevant? I would think Sherlock is a lovely nickname, since your last name is Holmes and all.”

“Stop fighting, guys! We need to work together,” Milo insisted, an anxious look on his face.

“You’re right, Milo. Calvin and Mona Lisa, we really do need to work together,” Annette said. “Let’s each tell our stories of how we got here. Who was here first?”

“Well, Calvin and I came together,” Milo said. “We were the first ones. I saw him walk out of the Edgewater University, and-”

“The University!” cried Mona Lisa. “By golly, Calvin, don’t tell me you attend college at just twelve years old!”

“Well, I was taking advanced classes there,” said Calvin. “Anyways, I came out of the University and there was a black van with a man dressed in a shiny suit and sunglasses.”

“Wait, what did the man look like?” asked Annette.

“Well, he had brown hair and a handlebar mustache. He tried to shove me in his van—said something about a doctor waiting for me—but Milo had been there.”

Milo quickly picked up the story. “I was outside, like I said, and I saw the man with the bank robber mustache-”

“Handlebar mustache,” Calvin corrected.

“Yeah, that. He was trying to kidnap Calvin! I was horrified, and I searched my backpack for something that would help.” Milo held out his backpack, a gray, worn bag that had seen a lot of miles. It almost appeared to Annette to be holding an entire thrift store; every zipper was strained to the bursting point. “So I took out a sweater and threw it over the man’s face. He was only distracted for a few seconds, but that was still enough time for Calvin to wiggle out of his grip. He threw the sweater down—I put it back in my bag, right here—and started chasing after both of us. He said that the doctor could use me, too, since I misbehaved.”

“This ‘doctor’ sure seems to be mysterious. I heard my captors mention him too—how he was always right or something along those lines,” Annette commented.

The group nodded in agreement, and Calvin finished telling his story. “We were about to run away from the man, when a boy raced up to us. He was of average height and Asian, dressed in a green hoodie and black jeans. He appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties.”

“Sounds like you’re reading off a police report, Detective,” Mona Lisa playfully interjected. “I mean, come on, are all your sentences so boring?”

“Don’t call me that. And the level of engagement in my sentences is irrelevant,” Calvin shot back, with a cold tone. “Anyways, the boy told us to come here. I was naturally skeptical, but Milo here was convinced he was trustworthy, so here we are.”

“And I was right,” Milo happily interjected. “He was trustworthy.”

“Well, we’ll find out soon enough,” Calvin corrected, a grave tone to his voice.

“Oh, I’m sure we’re fine,” Mona Lisa said. “Look, on the bright side, we already escaped being kidnapped.”

“The bright side doesn’t change the facts,” Calvin said, straightening his collar. “Therefore, looking on it is pointless.”

“But you’ll be happier doing so!” cried Mona Lisa, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Calvin gave a disapproving grunt and fell into a stony silence.

Annette decided to take charge again. “Since we’ve all heard Calvin and Milo’s story, you tell us yours, Mona Lisa.”

Mona Lisa happily obliged. “Alright. So, I was helping my Abuela with the fruit stand, and-”

“Wait,” Milo interjected. “You run a fruit stand with your grandmother? Where?”

“Well, I prefer to call her my Abuela, but yes. It’s on Market Street, along with the other small shops and stands. I always lend a hand. It’s quite fun, actually, helping the customers.”

Milo looked like he was about to say something else, but Calvin cleared his throat. “We likely only have so much time before the kidnappers find us or something else happens. Can we please get back to the point?”

“Alright, sure,” Mona Lisa said, reaching down to her black leather high tops. They had neon purple laces and looked like they had seen a lot of miles. Annette assumed she was tying her shoes, but she flicked open a secret compartment in the heel. “I was helping with the fruit stand, and a lady in a glossy suit came up. She had auburn hair tied in a low bun and gray, clever looking eyes. She was good at her job, which I guess is kidnapping kids, I could tell.” Her fingers closed around a shiny dime and she shut the compartment and stood back up.

“What were you doing with your shoes?” Annette asked, intrigued.

“Oh, I was just grabbing my lucky dime,” Mona Lisa said.

“You do realize there is no such thing as luck, don’t you?” Calvin commented.

Mona Lisa ignored him and in a swift motion, placed the dime on the back of her hand. She proceeded to roll it across her knuckles, back and forth, with hypnotic speed. Everyone watched her do this in awe.

“How do you do that?” cried Milo, his eyes open wide. “And so fast, too!”

Mona Lisa laughed. “Easy. Here, I can show you.”

Calvin clenched his fists. “Enough!” he cried. “We need to focus! Mona Lisa, put back your coin. Then, keep telling your story. I believe you were at the part where you were helping with the fruit stand.”

Mona Lisa shrugged, but obeyed Calvin, slipping the coin in the compartment. Annette was about to ask about Mona Lisa’s high tops, but after seeing Calvin’s withering glare, she decided to do so later.

“Alright, so I was helping with the stand, when that lady came up,” Mona Lisa continued. “She was mad because an apple that I had served her supposedly had a bruise. But I could have sworn it didn’t! I know it didn’t!”

“Wait, she was mad about an apple? I thought this had something to do with kidnapping,” Milo said, looking confused.

“It did. I was thinking that maybe the apple was a trick or a diversion or something. Next thing I knew, she had taken my Abuela into the back of her car, a black SUV Range Rover…I tried to memorize the license plate, but I only remember the first two digits."

“Wait,” Calvin said, his voice toned down. “Are you saying they succeeded in kidnapping your grandmother?”

She shot him a look. “Abuela. Considering how much you hate me using nicknames for yourself, I’d think you’d show some respect. And yes,” she said, looking down. “They took her. But not for long. I’m going to get her back.”

“But, Mona Lisa, that’s dangerous,” cried Milo.

Mona Lisa shrugged. “So? Abuela’s certainly in danger, and I have to get her out of it. And I’ll make sure that auburn-haired lady never even sets foot on Market Street again.”

“I’m really sorry, Mona Lisa, and I’ll do all I can to help get your Abuela back,” Annette said. “But what about you? Were you being targeted too, or just your Abuela?”

“The woman tried to get me at first, but I was way too quick for her. She stood no chance with my handy tools in here,” she said, patting her high tops. “But my Abuela wasn’t. I should have known that that awful woman would have gone after Abuela.”

“How did you get here?” Calvin asked.

“What?” Mona Lisa asked. “Oh, right. I was chasing after the SUV, when a lady around 20 with two black dutch braids and bronze skin ran up beside me. She told me it wasn’t safe for me out there, and I had to meet at least four other kids at this bridge. I told her that I had to protect my Abuela, and I wouldn’t do it, but a few seconds later, I lost the SUV in the traffic, so I agreed to, as long as she would help me find Abuela later. She agreed and stayed there to see if she could find the SUV again. I arrived at the bridge a few minutes before you, Annette.”

“Wow,” said Annette. “That was… a lot.”

“Yeah,” Milo agreed.

“Well, now it would be time for you to tell how you got here, Annette,” Calvin said, glancing at his watch, a classic analog wristwatch with a leather strap.

Annette agreed, and filled the group in on what happened to her before she got to the bridge.

“We had three different ‘saviors,’ around the age of twenty…” mused Calvin. “They all led us to the bridge, therefore they must be connected somehow…”

As he continued to ponder, Mona Lisa was getting bored. “Whacha calculating now, Detective Dorito?”

“...the logical outcome of that theory would be—wait, what? Detective Dorito, what’s that even supposed to mean…hey!” Calvin cried, his face turning almost as red as his hair. “Don’t call me that!”

“Good grief, no need to get so worked up,” Mona Lisa said. “Besides, it was funny. Really funny.”

Calvin said nothing as he stewed. Then, he surprised everyone by pulling a phone out of his pocket. It had a black, heavy duty protector that looked like it could survive an earthquake. His thumbs flew rapidly across the screen with cynical precision. Finally, he held it out for the group to see, especially Mona Lisa. The crackless screen displayed a complicated calculating app with lots of numbers running through it. “Look,” Calvin said. “Statistically, the probability of us remaining safe here decreases by about fifteen percent every ten minutes. If you would stop fooling around and actually focus on the data and help, you’d realize how precarious our situation really is.” Mona Lisa looked hurt, but didn’t say anything. Calvin turned the phone back towards himself and typed in more digits. “To be quite frank, you’re a distraction, Mona Lisa. While we are trying to figure out the most logical next steps after narrowly escaping a kidnapping—”

“I wouldn’t call it narrow at all, I escaped easily,” Mona Lisa drily commented.

“That doesn’t remove the danger,” Calvin countered. “While we are trying to figure out the next steps, you’re standing there distracting everyone. My phone is currently running an encrypted scan of local frequencies; that is helpful. Your ‘lucky’ dimes are not.”

Mona Lisa’s eyes narrowed, and a mischievous grin spread across her face. “Your fancy phone? Would you call it ‘un-hackable?’

“Are you seriously going to attempt to hack my phone? Don’t waste your time. It’s encrypted. Far beyond the capabilities of an amateur fruit stand apprentice,” Calvin scoffed.

Mona Lisa smirked and pulled out a laptop from her pink backpack, sat down criss-cross applesauce on the ground, and got to work, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “We’ll see about that.”

Calvin shook his head and looked at the others. “She’ll never learn.”

Milo looked concerned. He glanced at Mona Lisa and saw that she was distracted. Leaning in, he whispered, “Don’t you think you might have been a bit harsh to her?”

Annette nodded, "Maybe just a little?”

Calvin shook his head. “Someone’s got to teach her.”

“No offense, but it doesn’t really look like she learned much,” Annette cautiously said, nodding towards Mona Lisa. “If anything, you just encouraged her.”

Calvin shrugged. “Maybe so, but don’t you think we should be planning rather than debating this?”

Milo nodded. “You’re right. Now, where were we? It’s at least been an hour since we got here.”

“More than that,” Calvin said. “They ought to be coming back soon.”

“Do you mean the kidnappers, or our rescuers?” asked Annette.

“Well, I meant our rescuers, but both are definitely possible, unfortunately,” Calvin said.

Milo looked worried. “Do you think we should go somewhere else? We’re sitting ducks standing in plain sight.”

“Maybe,” answered Annette. “Let’s wait a little longer, then if our ‘recruiters’ don’t come in, say, thirty minutes, we leave to somewhere safer.”

“But where would we go?” Calvin asked. “Sure, we could head to another park or bridge or something, but we’re still in much danger. The kidnappers were able to find us somehow before, and they likely can do that again.”

“We could go home,” Milo suggested, trying to be helpful.

Annette nodded. “We definitely have to find some place to stay the night, if it comes to that. And we absolutely must stick together, it’s less risky that way.”

“It’s still risky,” Calvin said. “Both sides of the same coin. If the kidnappers come across all of us, they kill four birds with one stone. I think—”

“Hah!” cried Mona Lisa. “You call this unhackable? Easy as pie!” She glanced at her laptop screen and snickered. “Your notes app is hilarious. You all have got to get a load of this.”

Calvin looked concerned, but also angry. “You didn’t,” he said coldly.

“Oh, I did,” Mona Lisa gleefully replied. “Hey, what’s this? A note titled ‘Potential Comebacks for Bullies?”

“Hey, stop that now,” Calvin said, his face heating up with fury.

“Mona, maybe we shouldn’t—” started Annette.

“Response 1,” Mona Lisa read in a mock serious voice. “Your intellectual capacity is that of a sponge.” She snorted with laughter.

“I mean it. Stop,” Calvin said.

Mona Lisa ignored him. “Ooh, this is even better. It’s another note called ‘Daily Efficiency Protocol.’ Goodness, very precise. ‘7:00: Practice approachable faces in the mirror. (Note: avoid scowling, all tests have received negative results)’ Avoid scowling?! What are you, a robot?” She said it lightheartedly, but Annette could tell it cut deep.

Calvin’s face was now arguably redder than his hair. “Mona Lisa Rosales, you are the most—the most—immature person I have ever met!”

“You’ve mentioned,” Mona Lisa said with a grin. She cleared her throat and went back into her fake serious voice. “‘7:06: Tie right shoe. 7:07: Tie left shoe. 7:08: Remind self that fun is a biological necessity. Allow no more than 5.8 minutes for fun. (Current activity: Categorizing my rock collection by mineral density).’” She roared with laughter.

“Mona Lisa, can you please stop?” Milo meekly asked. “It doesn’t look like Calvin likes it.”

“Shut the laptop!” Calvin said. “My phone contains sensitive research!”

“Oh, sensitive is right,” Mona Lisa said with a giggle. “You wrote a 5,000 word essay on the logical stability of the characters in Bluey!”

Calvin looked like he was seriously about to harm Mona Lisa. “I told you to stop,” he said in a cold tone. “But you didn’t.”

“Calvin,” a strong voice interrupted. “Please refrain from lunging at Mona Lisa. And Mona Lisa, close the laptop.” The group all turned their heads to see a man standing at the base of the bridge. He had pale skin and salt and pepper hair that was swept back, but not stiffly gelled, kind green eyes, and was wearing a tweed jacket. He appeared to be in his early forties.

Stunned, Mona Lisa shut her laptop and slipped it into her backpack. “Who are you?” she asked.