𝗕𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗼 Shorts

♔ RtD x OC - 3

At Beanotown high there was little room to breathe, there were so many teens. My year was already full to capacity, so it was no wonder that I usually managed to stay under the radar. Naturally, Roger was the talk of the town now, and while everyone else was soaked to the skin - me included - he was wearing a long waterproof coat. I was the first to spot him as he walked through the doors to the school, but he was mobbed before I even took one step towards him.

Peering over the heads of my fellow students, I could just about see him. He pushed a hand back through his dark hair and laughed at what someone just said, shaking his head, then pushed forwards through the crowd without answering any questions.

I knew I had to get him alone some way if I had any chance of getting him to spill the plans for Dodge 894. But how to go about it?

As it turned out, it was relatively easy. He complained about feeling sick in chemistry, and without a pause the teacher selected me to escort him to the medical room.

I jumped up, knowing it was my chance, and as soon as we were out of the classroom I rounded on him.

He was no longer holding his head dramatically. Instead, he was sporting a wicked grin that made me all the more inquisitive.

He leaned in towards me, and I fought the need to lean closer. "I can see you're desperate to know," he whispered darkly, his eyes searching my face.

I bit my cheek. "Then why don't you tell me what you're up to?"

He smirked, still uncomfortably close to me. "Where would be the fun in that, Squirt?"

"I'm serious, Roger. Whatever you're doing to the weather is dangerous, I know it!"

He finally stood back, but his smirk didn't fade. "I'm glad you're so concerned, but don't you worry. I've always got a dodge up my sleeve."

I scowled. "And I always have polos up mine. Really, it's not-"

He glanced at my jumper curiously. "Polos?"

"Yes, polos. But look-"

"Is that why you always smell like mint in class?"

I flushed scarlet. "Yes! Now will you listen to me?"

"Nah, Squirt. I rather like frustrating you."

I poked a finger in his chest. "I'm warning you, if this does go wrong, don't say I didn't warn you!"

He shrugged. "Alright. I've got to go - but one thing: don't leave school until later than the others."

"Why?"

He winked. "A plague of mosquitoes is due in exactly half an hour... When the bell rings. See you around."

"I hate you!" I whisper-yelled at him as he jogged down the corridor.

"I'm counting on it!" He shouted back.

I went back into the classroom with my cheeks flaming red. I got several looks and a few sniggers as I walked back to my seat and sat down.

When the bell rang I bolted out of my seat and took the stairs two at a time into the library, which had a prime view of the school entrance.

As the students started to flood out of the gates, a few started to slap their necks and exposed skin. After a few seconds, the crowd descended into uproar as people seemed to be being stung left and right, yelping and yelling as they got bitten. It seemed no one was safe out there, and it just served to confound me more.

How is he doing this? How could he predict it so accurately... If it isn't a dodge? Dodge 894, to be exact. But then, how is he simulating the bites?

When the entrance cleared of rampaging students I deemed it safe to go and left the safety of the school. To further prove my theory that this was all a clever ruse, I wasn't bitten once on my way home.

***

As soon as I got home I turned the news on. Sure enough, BEANOTOWN WEATHER flashed up on the screen and I perched myself on the edge of the sofa anxiously.

Nick, Maxie and Roger stood in the centre of the screen. Nick seemed excited, Maxie incredulous and Roger looked wholly indifferent to the situation.

Nick looked at the camera and then, after the signal that they were live, smiled at Roger.

"So, what else does your machine say, Roger?"

Roger's smirk was coy. "Do you want the good news, or the bad?"

Nick frowned. "Give us the bad."

"Thunder, lightning, wind and rain, tidal waves," Roger recited. He glanced at the paper again. "Oh, and a flood."

Maxie let out a little squeak of indignation before composing herself. "And the good news?"

"You can now buy heated scarves and gloves from Libl! Scarves £3.99, gloves a fiver!"

He smiled at the screen, and my fingers tightened around the sofa arm.

Maxie's shoulders sagged. "Out of interest, how much would you be selling this WALTER machine for?"

"As I say, the machine's not mine to sell. Roger shrugged. "But I can introduce you to its inventor, Walter the-

Nick interrupted quickly, casting a worried glance at the camera. "Walter! Just call him Walter."

"Yes." Roger raised an eyebrow and rested his hand on the machine. "Well, I'm sure you'll be able to come to some deal with Walter. He's very reasonable."

A new voice cut in. "We're still on air," they reminded.

Nick's face dropped and he nodded. "Uh, yes! So, we'll keep you up to date on the thunder, lightning, wind, rain and tidal waves, viewers."

"And the flood," Roger reminded.

"Um, yes. That's all for today's weather, folks!"

The broadcast cut to interviews of students hit by the Beanotown mosquito plague.

I wasn't listening, though. I was working through all the places Roger was likely to be now the weather report was over. If the weather people wanted it, he'd have to go to Walter's house in order to seal the deal and sell it. Most likely they'd drive him there, and he'd be walking home afterwards, right? Walter's house was on the other side of town, about an hour away by foot but only fifteen minutes by bus.

I checked the bus timetable on my phone as I slid my feet into my school-shoes, grabbed my wallet and locked the front door behind me.

I sprinted to the stop and arrived just as my bus was pulling up. I waved my pass at the driver and sat right at the front, checking my phone obsessively.

And then, ten minutes in, there it was.

BREAKING NEWS, the alert read. BEANOTOWN WEATHER MACHINE SOLD.