Partners In Crime

9 The Plot Thickens

It was silent...too silent.

The place, and the one next door, was massive. There were only two FT blocks, located behind the other side of the school.

It had the standard materials and essential equipment, all individually labelled and illustrated condescendingly and patronizingly like it was actively treating the students like belittled toddlers, which is ironic since the kids are tasked to buy the ingredients themselves and do the weighing and measuring before showing up for practical.

A strong scent filled the air.

"Is that apple crumble they made?" Derick asked, mouth drooling. His eyes were fixed over at the counters.

"Focus!" Chelsea snapped. "We didn't come here to crash a lesson. We came for official detective business."
"Might wanna rain check that. He's not here, in case you haven't noticed."
"Typical."
"Not really," Derick responded despite her saying that in a cynical tone.
"This is quite unlike him."
"He probably went to the toilet. Had lunch?"
"He always used it after school. That's our dedicated he is."
"Went to the staff room, perhaps," Chelsea asked, realising in retrospect they should have gone there instead.
"At his old age? It's too far!" Derick said hyperbolically.
"No, something doesn't feel right. The doors unlocked during break and lunch is already such a rookie mistake. And Wit all of sudden being absent makes no sense either."
"What are you saying?" Chelsea looked uneasy.
"I'm saying we've been set up. We gotta go before it's too-"

But it was already too late.

Right before Derick made his verdict, a large, muscular and intimidating boy entered the kitchen. It was someone that wasn't in their year. He was fair-haired, wore an overgrown uniform, a scrunched-up face and dark eyes. His face was pale and was the size of a mountain gorilla. He had blonde hair and delicate teeth. He looked like a thug. But, in reality, he was a student, as hard as that to believe.

His name was Brent Lewis. And he was the type of bully that even this school couldn't efficiently correct.

The two stood in magnificent fear. They didn't say a word. For what felt like hours, the three stared at each other in painstaking silence, with only the sound of children laughing and playing going on outside in the background.

They always knew something like this would happen. They knew the risk when signing up for this gig. The head knew the risk, that's why recruiting them was his last result.

Derick and Chelsea heard tales of how barbaric Brent was. He had become a household name; an unceremonious celebrity. Now the time had come for the two to officially meet. And, deep down, the two always knew it would happen. They couldn't escape it. So long they stayed here, sooner rather than later it'll become the endgame for them to cross paths. It'll be naive to think otherwise.

It didn't take a genius to deduce that Brent, whether it made logical sense or not, was behind this. And the two couldn't tell if it was a prank or what.
As far as they're concerned, he was the culprit behind the Charlotte Casualty.

"So you're the two sleuths I heard so much about." he boomed. "It's about time. Though, frankly, I was told I was going to deal with people who are genuine threats."

So Brent was working for someone. Derrick kept that in mind, as the tales of Brent never thought about him being a certified workman. Then again, being a bully isn't cheap.

"What do you want from us?" Chelsea demanded, trying not to show apprehension.
"Sorry, girly. Can't answer that. Been given strict orders not to do so." Brent replied.

Derick smirked. He almost wanted to laugh. "How ironic."
"Not as ironic as what I'm about to put you through!" Brent roared. He clenched his fist, then charged like a maddened bull.
He punched Derrick and he collapsed on the floor, his woolly hat skidding across the marble floor.