Two alternate endings to "Unspoken Secret".
I was resting again in my bed when Eight appeared in my room, frantic.
"Marina!" he was saying quickly, "the brownies!"
I sat up at Eight's tone. "What is it?"
A.)
"I lost track of time," Eight begins to explain, "not even eatable anymore—so burnt."
"Um, sorry?" I tried my best to sympathize with Eight but it was hard to do when he was troubled over a ruined dessert. Clearly mistaking my sad excuse for an apology to be confusion, Eight grabbed my wrist and my stomach was filled with a tingling sensation as he teleported us to the penthouse kitchen. Before us sat the world's saddest looking black mess that was probably once brownies.
"They look… eatable… maybe," I managed in an attempt to lift Eight's spirit. He seemed unconvinced by my lie and there was only one choice available to prove my claim.
I picked up one of the black crispy squares, wondering how he managed to burn them this bad. I raised it hesitantly to my lips before throwing caution to the wind and taking a bite.
Honestly, it tasted like charcoal with no chocolate flavor present at all
I choked, about to spit it out when I looked up at Eight's expectant face. He was holding back a fit of laughter; his sudden change in attitude surprised me and I angrily ejected the burnt mess from my mouth.
"Why are you laughing?" I said sternly, mad at Eight.
"I can't believe you actually ate it!" Eight laughed, ignoring my question. His eyes were lit with amusement and he wore a teasing grin. I glared at him, trying my best not to give in to the laughter that was building in my chest at my own deception
"I'm—sorry—Marina," Eight managed, regaining his composure, "it was Ella's idea."
"You promised not to tell!" came Ella's voice as she hopped from her hiding spot in the pantry. "Sorry, Marina. Eight was showing me some cool pranks and I wanted to try one of my own."
"You…burnt the brownies for a prank?" I said, wide-eyed.
"Actually, no." Eight answered. He then produced a pan of still warm, not over baked brownies. "turns out the Duplicator can make multiples of things other than me." He grinned.
I was not, however, amused by their little scheme. Snatching the brownies from Eight, I clutched the pan close to my chest and marched off back to my room, leaving a confused Eight and Ella behind.
B.)
"Nine," Eight was suddenly out of breath, "he—eat—them—ALL."