Special delivery

ParteeGrl21 went down flat on the virtual ground, and a trickle of blood appeared under her nose. “Wow,” George said admiringly. “The graphic effects just keep getting better and better on this site!”

I was much less concerned about that than I was about my new online pal. KrazeeBiker was already racing away with NedNick02 chasing after him. Meanwhile I sent VirtualNancy over to ParteeGrl21’s prostrate form.

ARE YOU OKAY? I asked her. I’M SO SORRY!

DON’T WORRY, SWEETIE, she said as she sat up. I’M OK. IT WUD TAKE MORE THAN A JERK LIKE THAT 2 PUT ME OFF-LINE 4 GOOD!

I was relieved. But I still felt terrible for involving another innocent person in my problems, even virtually. ParteeGrl21 had been so nice that I wished I could tell her the truth about the whole crazy situation. But I held back. I could only imagine some entire real-life sorority house over at RHU being regaled with all the sordid details over dinner that night!

At that moment the doorbell chimed downstairs. “Rats,” George said. “Nobody else is home — guess I’d better get that.”

I hardly saw her go. SORRY, I typed as ParteeGrl21 stood up. I GUESS SOME PEOPLE THINK I REALLY DID WHAT THAT VIDEO SHOWS. BUT I PROMISE I DIDN’T.

THAT’S KOOL, ParteeGrl21 responded. I B-LIEVE U.

“Hey,” George’s voice floated up from downstairs. “Get down here, you guys.”

EXCUSE ME, I typed hastily.

“You can abbreviate stuff like that, you know,” Bess said as we both got up and hurried for the stairs. “Like you could use BRB for ‘be right back,’ or GTG for ‘got to go.’”

“Whatever,” I said. “Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer whole words.”

When we reached the foyer, the front door was open. A skinny college-aged guy was standing just outside balancing a large stack of white pizza boxes.

“One of you Nancy Drew?” he asked.

“I’m Nancy Drew,” I replied.

“Great. Got your dozen extra-large anchovy pizzas right here.” He took a step forward as if to shove his stack of boxes at me.

I took a step back. “Huh?” I said. “Sorry, but you must have the wrong house. We didn’t order any pizzas.”

The delivery guy frowned, looking irritated. “Yeah, that’s what she said.” He jerked a thumb in George’s direction. “But I got the order slip right here. See?”

He balanced the boxes on one arm long enough to hand over a slip of slightly greasy paper. It not only had my name on it, but also George’s address and my cell phone number.

Okay, that was weird…. “Look, I definitely didn’t order these pizzas,” I said firmly. “You’ll have to take them back.”

The delivery guy scowled. “I can’t take them back,” he said. “I’ll get charged for these pies myself if I don’t deliver ’em.”

“Oh, but I’m sure your boss will understand if we call and explain,” Bess said, tilting her head and shooting him her best smile and eyelash-flutter. No guy alive can resist that look for long. “I promise I’ll have it taken care of by the time you get back there, okay?”

The guy hesitated, then finally shrugged. “Whatever,” he muttered. “I’m not paying, that’s all I can say.” He turned and marched off toward the car parked at the curb.

Bess was already heading for the nearest phone. When she hung up a few minutes later, she grimaced. “The delivery guy is off the hook,” she reported. “But Nancy, you probably shouldn’t try to order from Sylvio’s any time soon. They sounded pretty annoyed with your flip-flopping, especially since you supposedly made such a big deal about it being a huge rush order when you called a few minutes ago.”

“But I didn’t call!” I exclaimed. “I mean, I don’t even like anchovies!”

“Duh,” George said, drifting toward the stairs. “You know, the car thing might have been a coincidence. But now it’s really starting to look like someone’s out to cause you trouble — both online and in real life.”

Back at George’s computer, we found ParteeGrl21 repeating VN? VN? RU THERE? over and over again.

I hurried to the keyboard. sorry, I typed I HAD TO STEP AWAY FOR A SEC. I hesitated, my fingers poised over the keys, once again wishing I could just tell her the truth. IT WAS SORT OF AN EMERGENCY.

O NO!!! she replied. R U OK??!?!

YES, FINE, I typed back. NOT THAT KIND OF EMERGENCY. JUST SOMEONE AT THE DOOR.

OK, she said. SRRY, DIDN’T MEAN 2 B NOSY. U DON’T HAVE 2 GIVE ME THE DEETS. IT’S SMART 2 B CAREFUL ONLINE UNTIL U FIGURE OUT WHO U CAN TRUST.

THANKS, I typed, still feeling vaguely guilty.

I KNO U WILL TRUST ME ONCE WE GET 2 KNO EACH OTHER BETTER, SHE CONTINUED. I’LL START BY TELLING U THAT IRL I’M A PREMED STUDENT. I GOOF OFF ON BL B/C I’M 2 BUSY STUDYING 2 HIT UP AS MANY PARTIES AS I WANT 2!

With that, the avatar made a funny little grimace. I smiled, touched that she was so willing to share more about herself. Still, I wasn’t about to spill my guts to someone I’d just met, no matter how nice she seemed.

SO YOU’RE GOING TO BE A DOCTOR? THAT’S COOL, I TYPED INSTEAD. I BET YOU’LL BE GOOD AT IT — YOU’RE ALREADY MAKING ME FEEL BETTER!

The computer let out a beep. “New mail,” George said, pointing to a blinking envelope icon in the corner. “Want to check it out?”

I clicked over and saw that it was another message from UrNewReality. The subject line read R U HUNGRY? and when I opened the text box all I found was a grinning smiley and the notation LOL!

“Whoa,” Bess said. “Does that mean UrNewReality sent those pizzas?”

I was wondering exactly the same thing myself. “But how did he — or she, or they, or it, or whatever — know my cell phone number?” I exclaimed. “Let alone know that I was over at George’s right now!”

George shrugged. “Anyone with the skills to hack into BetterLife can probably pull up all that info from the site’s database — your phone number is listed in there, and I guess maybe they can track the origin of your current activity or something, too. So much for the BetterLife privacy agreement…”

I bit my lip, feeling increasingly uneasy. It was one thing to have bad guys after you in real life. With my history of crime solving, I was used to that. But this was different — and much weirder.

“It’s getting late,” I realized as the clock in the corner of the computer screen caught my eye. “I should probably check in at home before they think I’ve disappeared into the online world for good.”

I typed a quick good-bye to ParteeGrl21 and logged off. Then Bess drove me home.

When I got there, I was just in time to meet Hannah Gruen on her way out. Hannah has been our live-in housekeeper ever since my mom died when I was little. She takes great care of Dad and me and is basically a member of the family.

“Oh, Nancy! There you are,” she said, straightening her skirt. “I just left you a note on the fridge. I’m going out to dinner with friends, and your father is working late at the office on that new case of his. There’s frozen pizza if you want to heat it up.”

“Thanks.” I bit back a grimace at the mention of pizza. “Have fun, Hannah.”

Once inside, I checked the answering machine to see if the garage had called yet about my car. There were no new messages, so next I headed upstairs to check my e-mail and found a message from the head of my volunteer committee asking if I could work at the opening evening of Peace Week on Friday. Remembering that that was the night Ned and I had tentatively planned to go out, I wrote back quickly to let her know I couldn’t make it and why, though I did confirm that I’d be at Monday’s meeting. Then I logged off and wandered back downstairs.

Thinking about that date made me realize that Friday was way too far away. I didn’t want to wait that long to get things back on track with Ned. On impulse, I reached for the phone in the kitchen. If Ned had time to mess around on BetterLife, maybe he’d have time to squeeze in that Saturday-night dinner we’d originally planned after all….

I tried his cell phone number first, but it went straight to voice mail. Not both- ering to leave a message, I tried again, this time dialing his home number.

“Hello, Nickerson residence,” a familiar voice answered on the second ring.

“Ibrahim?” I said, a little surprised that he was answering the phone after what had happened earlier that day.

“Nancy!” He sounded delighted. “Oh, it is so good to hear from a friendly voice on a strange and difficult day like today!”

“Strange and difficult” seemed like an under-statement. “How’s everything going?” I asked. “How’s Arij?”

“She is upset, but otherwise unharmed — perhaps thanks to the quick-thinking woman who pushed her aside and alerted us all to what was happening.” Ibrahim’s voice went uncharacteristically somber. “It is still impossible for me to believe that anyone would try to hurt my father by harming Arij.”

“Do the police have any leads yet?” I asked.

“I do not know.” He sighed. “My parents will not tell us anything. I know they are only trying to protect us, but still I cannot wait until tomorrow when perhaps they will let me leave the house again.”

“Hang in there,” I said, not sure what else to say to make him feel better. “And remember you have lots of friends in River Heights.”

“Thank you, Nancy.” He sounded grateful. “It is good to know that indeed. Speaking of which, is there a chance you might be able to meet me for coffee again tomorrow?”

“Coffee? Tomorrow?” I repeated, taken by surprise.

“Coffee, or lunch, or anything you like,” he said. “Please? It can be my treat. I just would like to go out and feel normal again after this weird day.”

“Oh.” I chuckled sympathetically. “I hear you. And of course, I’d be happy to hang out for a little while. Should we say Barbara’s Beans, around three?”

“Perfect!” he agreed, sounding more like his normal self already. “I look forward to it, Nancy.”

“Great. Um, is Ned there? I was hoping to catch him.”

“Of course. I’ll get him.”

I heard the clunk of the phone being set down. Tapping my foot, I waited. While I did, I thought about everything that had happened that day. It seemed like ages ago that I’d watched VirtualNancy chase Ibrahim’s avatar down the streets of virtual River Heights. Unfortunately, I wasn’t really any closer now to knowing who was behind it. And now there was this business with Professor al-Fulani to complicate things….

“Nancy?” Ned’s voice broke into my thoughts.

“Oh, hey! What’s up? I was hoping you’d be home.”

He cleared his throat. “Where else would a dull boy like me be on a Saturday night?”

I blinked, confused. Not only did his comment make little sense, but his voice sounded funny — stiff and oddly formal.

Suddenly remembering how weird he’d acted on BetterLife earlier, I wondered if this was part of his new NedNick02 schtick. “You’re not still afraid I’m ashamed of you or whatever, are you?” I joked weakly. “I thought the hug cleared that up. Or the virtual hug, or whatever.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Now he was the one who sounded confused.

“Forget it.” Suddenly I was really tired of all the online game-playing. “Listen, do you need to stick around at home tonight? If not, I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner tonight after all. Or dessert or something, if you’ve already eaten.”

There was a very long pause. It was so long that if I hadn’t been able to hear the Nickersons’ TV playing the local news in the background, I would have wondered if we’d lost the connection.

“Look,” he said at last, his voice strained. “You might want to check in on your ‘better life,’ then let me know if you really want to get together tonight. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Before I could respond — or even figure out what he was talking about — he hung up. I stared at the phone in surprise. My “better life”? What was going on?

Hanging up, I hurried upstairs and logged on to the Internet again. Seconds later I was connected to BetterLife. When the welcome screen popped up, my own name caught my eye among the headlines on the community bulletin board. I blinked as I read the headline: I’M NANCY DREW: COME READ MY SECRET THOUGHTS!

“What?” I gasped, clicking on the headline to see more.

To my horror, I saw a series of e-mails start scrolling down the screen — my e-mails, basically all the ones I’d sent within the past couple of days. There was the one I’d just sent to the volunteer chairwoman explaining that I had a date on Friday night. A birthday message I’d sent to my cousin in Cleveland. One to Ned about our constantly changing plans. A handful of messages to Bess and George about this and that.

Then there was the last one on the list. It was addressed to Bess and George, but unlike the others, I knew right away that I hadn’t sent it. But there it was, looking just as legit as the rest:

HEY GUYS,

NED MAKES ME WANT TO SCREAM SOMETIMES! HE’S JUST

SOOOOOOO DULL!!! HE NEVER WANTS TO GO ANYWHERE

DIFFERENT OR DO ANYTHING FUN. I’M STARTING TO THINK

I CAN DEFINITELY DO BETTER.

LUV, NED NICKERSON’S SOON-TO-BE-EX GF,

NANCY DREW

Дата добавления: 2017-01-14