Trapped In The Rabbit Hole

Chapter 8: The Secret Numbers

During the ride home, Seth stayed quiet. He removed his cap, letting his reddish brown hair spill across his head.

Based on his silent reaction, he didn't seem overjoyed to help me out of my sticky situation again.

"What were you doing, while I was at the hospital?" I ask, hoping to cheer him up.

"I was sleeping in your crappy foster home," Seth answer rudely.

"Until, your foster parents keep asking me where the hell you were."

I turn my head to look at him.

"What did you say?" I ask.

"I told them that you were at Cole's house, having a homework makeout session." Seth shrug.

When I gave him an angry glare, Seth stifled a groan.

"What?" he baffled. "It's better than snitching."

Grumbling to myself, I turn my eyes to the road.

"I don't makeout with Cole during our study sessions," I snap.

Much to my surprise, Seth nodded.

"Yes, you do." he argued back.

"Because of your 'session', my game couch is ruined."

"Oh my gosh, Seth!" I wailed. "Cole and I apologize to you like, a hundred times!"

"My eyes are still scarred from that day!" Seth complained.

One day, Cole and I decide to study in my house. Since her mother is inviting her bookclub friends, Cole agrees to study until her mother comes back.

But just as we showed up to my bedroom, there was a black piece of furniture sitting in the middle of the room.

Video game equipment made its home on the cushion, as I notice the multicolored wires and game console sticking out of the pile.

It was Seth alright; he must have snatched my credit card from the tiny safe I bought for my college savings.

"Cool," Cole marveled, taking a closer look on the small sofa.

"Did Seth bought this?"

I set my textbooks on the bed, then nodded angrily.

"The idiot took my credit card," I grumbled. "How the hell did he even get into my safe?"

Cole giggled then places her books beside the couch.

"Maybe he knows you keep your combination in your bookshelf."

Well, that explains alot. I wondered.

In order to keep my thoughts away from strangling Seth, Cole presses her lips against mine until he came into my room, holding a gray CD.

The minute he saw us kissing, Seth drops the disc and shrieks, like a five year old girl.

We stopped for a moment then spotted him covering his eyes.

"Seth!" I screamed in embarassment.

"We didn't know you were there," Cole said politely.

But the idiot didn't believe her, after the awkward encounter, Cole finished her homework and head home.

Since that day, Seth continues to question our study sessions.

"Do you makeout with her during study time?" he ask.

"Shut up, Seth." I rasp. "I keep telling you, Bill and Jill does NOT need to know about this!"

That's when Seth stops me for a moment.

"Ben," he began. "I'm okay with you and Cole dating, but next time, could you two makeout in her bedroom or something?"

I cut my eyes at him, but nodded.

Changing the subject, Seth turns on the stereo and switches the stereo to hip hop.

I watch as he bobbed his head to some guy named Logic.

Why he likes this music so much, I have no idea.

When we were kids, Seth and I were engulfed in classic piano, Beatles, Phil Collins, and 80s pop singers.

While Mom enjoys jazz, Dad loves Rock N' Roll. He keeps old vinyls of ACDC, Europa, and Journey somewhere in his desk drawer.

After our parents died, I grew up listening to piano and jazz, whereas Seth starts listening to hip hop.

"Seth," I sigh in annoyance. "Don't you think you're a little bit young to listen to this?"

That's when he glares at me.

"Not ALL gangsters listen to hip-hop, Ben. Vanilla Ice listens to hip-hop, Eminem raps, and we have the Beastie Boys."

"I think you shouldn't be learning language from this," I suggested, gesturing to the radio.

Seth lets out a dramatic sigh.

"A) I listen to old school hip-hop, the clean version." he says slowly.

"Ninety-five percent of today's hip-hop sucks. B) you and Cole curse in front of me."

I didn't say anything after that.

As soon as we reach home, I spotted Cole sitting in the front porch.

Her gleaming brown hair flowed down her back. She wore a blue and white floral shirt, jeans, and brown sandals.

As Cole's brown eyes stare at the papers in her hands, I notice her small freckles, her beautiful pink lips, and her dainty nose.

Her chocolate brown skin reminded me of a supermodel's.

The minute she sees the car rolling on the driveway, Cole grinned as we jumped out of the car.

"Hey Sherlock," she beamed.

We gave each other a brief a hug, then told us our accomplishments.

"I got the credit card statements, also the names and numbers of Miles' old foster families."

As Cole hands me the pages, I told her what I find in the hospital.

"Miles ingested a teaspoon of rubbing alcohol?" she ask in amazement.

"What did the doctors say?"

"Well, they kept him in the hospital for a few weeks, advise the parents to get him to drink fluids, water, orange juice, something like that."

Cole nods understandingly.

"Do you think that he had alcohol, before he was killed?" she ask.

I nodded.

"According to the autopsy-" I started to say.

"Nicole!" Ms. Porter cried out of nowhere.

I glance to see her, peering down from Cole's bedroom window.

Her blond hair is tucked in some type of green bandana, yellow tank top, and black pajama pants.

Ms. Porter's blue eyes glared at Cole's, asking her what she is doing.

"I'm helping Ben solve a case!" she called.

"Honey, you have a slumber party to plan." Ms. Porter reminded.

"Even though I didn't want to," I hear Cole mumble.

"What was that?" her mother snarled, her blue eyes turn hostile and her face is twisted.

"Nothing!" Cole sang, then hugs me goodbye.

All of a sudden, she leans to my ear and tells me a something discreet.

"35123478," she says carefully.

35123478? I thought. What does that mean?