“Arlo, look! It’s a No-Prize!”
Arlo bolted across the room toward the spot Neela had pointed out. “Holy shit! From 1964. And it’s not even opened.”
“A what-what?” Kevin asked.
The question had been addressed to Arlo, but Neela jumped in immediately with a long-winded answer. “It was a system instituted by Stan Lee at Marvel Comics in response to fans who wanted the company to issue rewards for readers who pointed out continuity problems in the comics. The prize is a non-prize—a letter from Stan Lee himself explaining that the letter writer had won exactly nothing.”
Arlo arched an eyebrow. “So you read my blog?”
“I…” Neela’s face flushed a bright shade of magenta and, for the first time since they’d met, she seemed to be lost for words. “I’m a member of the Geektacle community.”
“Really? What’s your screen name?”
Neela paused before answering. “TaraMehta91.”
“Ohhhhh,” Kevin said. “You two know each other?”
Arlo faltered. Just like when she emerged from the ATM booth, her sarcastic, worldly air slipped, the ever-present scowl widened into something more akin to confusion. But it hardly lasted long enough for Persey to notice, before the ballsy, combative Arlo had returned.
“Nope” was all she said, then stepped away, supposedly to examine the next set of collectibles. “We should spread out. Look for something weird or unusual.”
“How are we supposed to know?” Shaun asked. “Everything is weird.”
“Shaun-bot’s right,” Kevin said. “It’s like the contents of two children’s bedrooms were consumed by a goat and we’ve just arrived in its stomach.”
“I know you’re only here because of Persey,” Arlo said. “But even you should be able to tell if something looks odd or suspicious.” She sounded chipper again, the momentary alarm vanished. She loved being in charge, loved putting Kevin—and everyone else—in their place.
With a shrug, Kevin followed Mackenzie, Shaun, and Wes, who had fanned out on the ground floor with Arlo, scanning the contents of every book and display case in minute detail, hoping to come across a certain something that might signal the crux of this challenge. And since they were all downstairs, Persey immediately did the opposite. She quietly backed toward the staircase, then tiptoed up to the second floor.
Despite her proximity to the ceiling, the upper story of the Collectibles room felt less oppressive than downstairs. Even with Riot poking around at the far end, she felt like she could breathe more easily, move more freely. Probably the skylights and their fake-but-almost-kinda-real glow. If she forced herself to, she could pretend she was outdoors, alone, rather than cooped up in the Escape-Capades headquarters.
I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t be here.
She laughed out loud. Shouldn’t have come? Like you had a choice. Ten million dollars…
Even a fraction of that would make a huge difference in her life. She’d be able to get her own place, pay her own bills. Her future would be limitless instead of her current reality: frothing lattes after school and on weekends for people (assholes) who thought that six dollars for a cup of coffee was totally reasonable, trying to make enough extra cash to get by until she graduated from high school and had to not only find a real job but a real place to live.
She paused, leaned forward on a low glass case tucked into a corner and let her head hang down, stretching her back. On the other side of the glass, a half dozen or so toys had been arranged in little clumps.
At first, Persey didn’t know why the case seemed weird. Its contents—toys and action figures—looked identical to every other bookshelf and display case, both downstairs and up on the balcony, so there shouldn’t have been any reason for this one in particular to grab her attention. But as she continued to stare, she realized that this case was different.
First, the case was drastically (suspiciously) underpopulated. All the other displays were packed with similarly thematic dolls and toys, but this case had only a handful. Second, the figures were compiled from “mixed media”—the other areas of the room were all organized by character or character type, but this case had Legos and superheroes, movie characters and cartoons, all jumbled together.
“What did you find?” Kevin asked, Mackenzie glued to his side. She hadn’t heard them come up the stairs. “Anything interesting?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Kevin smiled, generating the same warm, comforting sensation that had bolstered her in the Hidden Library, and she cursed herself for being susceptible to his charm. “Looks to me like you’ve hit the jackpot.”
But Mackenzie was more dismissive. “It’s just a