Touch of Fear ▸ House of Anubis [2]

chapter eighteen. house of divides

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Nina and I didn't have any luck finding the cube anywhere where it could be. We searched our entire room during lunch, just to make sure we hadn't just thought we put it under her bed and instead put it somewhere else. But it's still missing, which means we're still screwed unless it miraculously shows up. It's the afternoon now, which means the carrot eating contest is on; she stayed behind at the house. And I'm sure it will be every bit as disgusting as I think it will.

When I think it's gross, that's how you know it's bad.

"Eddie, why did you even challenge Jerome to this?" I question, arms crossed as I glance at him. He and Patricia apparently won the Wonky Donkey, lasted six hours tied together, which means I also won my bet with Anubis. I'm planning on using the first of seven silence phrases sometime tonight.

Eddie grins and answers, "'Cause I wanted to."

My eyes narrow at him. "Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"Again," he says, because this is the second time I've asked him this since we met, "I think I'd remember meeting an Australian. You know, Steve Irwin, Crocodile Dundee," he adds, doing the worst Australian accent I've ever heard. "Koala bears."

"How on earth did Patricia manage to last six hours tied to you? Six seconds talking to you and I feel like smacking you on the head."

"Who cares?"

I roll my eyes, looking back at Jerome who looks like he's psyching himself up to eat a bunch of creamed carrots. "New question—why would Jerome agree, 'cause clearly you just feel like humiliating him. No, wait, you're giving him money, aren't you?" Eddie nods, a smirk on his face. "How much?"

"Hundred fifty," he answers.

"Pounds?!"

"No, cookies. Yeah, it's cash. Shut up, it's about to start."

Over an hour of creamed carrot eating later, Jerome looks like he's about ready to throw up. I have to admit, I might too just watching him. A hundred fifty, no wonder he's doing this. That would definitely get Roper off his back. Though I think Jerome may be spending the entire night with a bucket in his arms.

Mara says, watching him warily, "Jerome, you have my permission to give up."

I get up off the back of couch, which I've been leaning against this whole time, jumping onto the stage to stand beside her. "I don't think he's ever given up on anything in his life," I point out. "But seriously, Jerome, if you start vomiting and it gets on any of us, that won't go well for you. So I'm with Mara. Giving up is the best option, for both you and us."