NOW WRITING

From the creator of The Greatest Adventure

Some pirates steal your treasure but this one will steal your heart!

Kat and Riley are transported back in time

And are back to tell the story of their

Imaginary Reality: PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN

A Dream That's Too Good To Be Real


AUTHORS NOTE: Um, I'm not sure about the time schemes but I am gonna check on them so if anyone knows where I can find out character info via the show then send me the link. Thankz for the comments. I am so proud!

B3n - I almost thought this was a glitch or something. Glad to have you aboard my crazy train. I will be your captain so I advise strongly that you wear a seatbelt, helmet, knee pads and and a lot of asprin because this train will be going at very high speeds through sharp turns. Be on the lookout for evil characters. They might try to seduce you!

AlamoGirl - Quick, reel her in! Aha, another person to baffle and amaze! I luv the name! Thanks for the compliment. It took me awhile to try and figure out what his mom would have said and then it just kinda sank in. I don't know how old they were so I tried not to dwell too much into that part.


WHEN THE NUMBERS DON'T ADD UP

Written By Celeste Shinra

CHAPTER TWO: Saving Math For Later


Three Years Later (see author's note)

Charlie lifted his head to the sound of his brother's car. Walking over to the window, he pulled back the curtain and looked out. Don had parked his blue convertible and was currently racing to the door of the office. As he rammed his way through the crowds of people in the building, he kept his eyes on Charlie.

This was not going to be a good day.

"Where have you been?"

"Don't yell, Don. We're in a small enough room as it is."

"Who's yelling!"

"You are."

Don shifted his angry gaze to the other people in the room. Terry was drinking her coffee and Amita was typing on her laptop, trying to look occupied. Sighing heavily, he looked back at Charlie.

"I just wish you had called me or at least told Dad where you were going." He sat down at the table and grabbed out his cell phone. "He's been worried since last night when you didn't call in."

"I was in the garage." Charlie answered matter-of-factly. He turned back to the window. "I got back late and didn't want to wake you guys up."

"Well, you should have told him or left a note." Don tilted his head to Terry. "Good morning, by the way."

"It won't be too good for long. We got a report on a suicide." She set down her cup and pushed a folder towards him. He flipped it open and frowned.

"Great. Oh, Dad. Yah, I found him. He's fine. Look, I'll call you back later. I just got another case. Alright, see you soon." He snapped the phone shut and dropped it on the table. After giving Charlie another aggravated look, he turned his chair around and faced the other two. "So, what's the case?"

"It's the usual suicide but the department wants us to look in and check on it anyway." Terry started taking out folders from her bag and passed them to Don who casually flipped through them. "Her name is Adriana Thompson. She was found in her bathroom with both wrists cut, dead."

"Then, there's no doubt that the cause of death is blood loss." Don murmured. He brought out a picture from the file. "When was this taken?"

"Just four hours ago at nine."

"Well, this is apparently a suicide so why is the department involving us?" Don asked, leaning back in his chair.

"This is why." Amita turned her laptop around. "Adriana had been temporarily under the Witness Protection program until nineteen years when she personally asked to be taken out."

"Can they do that?" Terry asked while she jotted down a couple of notes in her file. Don, amused, watched her for a second before turning his attention back to Amita.

"They must be able to if she did it. Here's the file." Amita pointed to the screen. "And here's the file she gave the police twenty years ago stating that she'd help them bust a drug deal. Only, the gang they were up against knew they were coming and a whole bunch of people died. She was blamed for setting them up but when she started receiving threats, the department ended up having to give her protection."

"So why did she end up leaving the program?" Terry grabbed a file and flipped through it. "I don't remember reading about that part."

"I thought you knew about this case." Don looked over at her with an eyebrow raised. She shrugged but didn't look at him.

"I was only told about what they found at her place." Terry, moving her bangs out of her face, glanced at Amita. "So why did she leave?"

"She was pregnant and wanted her kid to live a normal life." The dark-haired girl swung her laptop back around. She began typing furiously. "The only other thing I found of interest was that her husband tried to divorce her ten times but always ended up backing out because of money problems. The department wants you guys to check it out because they don't want anyone else getting their noses into this."

"So, he kills the wife. It's the cheapest way of getting rid of her." Terry raised her lip disgust. "Men are such pigs."

"Ahem."

"Besides Don, of course." Amita commented with a smile.

"Are you kidding? Have you seen this guy eat?" Terry and Amita chuckled a bit.

"Can we not talk about food while I'm looking at these pictures?" Don clutched his stomach and groaned. Terry rolled her eyes.

"Alright then, lets get this into the files and maybe we can have a quiet day at work." She stood up, grabbing all the folders and stuffing them into her bag. "We might need these later."

Amita snapped her computer shut and placed it in her own bag. With a quick smile to Charlie, she followed Terry out leaving the two brothers alone. Don got up and walked over to him.

"I didn't mean to yell at you. Just tell us now and then what's going on, okay?." Don watched as Charlie nodded in response. "Alright then. So, are you going to come with us?"

"No, I have to stay here and work out some problems."

"I'll call you when we're done. Maybe we can go out and take Dad to lunch. What do you say?"

"Sure." Charlie turned around and walked to the large white board on the back wall. Don glared at his back. Without another word, he slammed the door open and stormed through the office. Glancing behind him at his older brother, Charlie wondered if that could have gone any worse.

"Time of death?"

"Some time between 6:30 and 7. She got up for work, went to the bathroom, and didn't come out. The daughter got worried and checked in on her at 7 and found her like this."

"Cause of death?"

"Isn't that apparent?"

"Sorry, this is for the record."

"Blood loss."

"And what did she use to do it?"

"We're not sure."

Don raised an eyebrow and stared at the policeman in front of him. He gave a quick knowing look to Terry. "You're not sure what she killed herself with?"

"We can't find anything that could have done it." The policeman swept his hand across the bathroom. "We've got razors and scissors and tweezers but none of them have any blood on or new skin cells. The only possible explanation that we could think of was that she flushed it."

"She cut herself and then threw the razor into the toilet?" Terry walked over to the toilet and looked down into the murky water. "There is a lot of blood in there. We'll ask the plumbing service to come down and check it out. Is there anything else?"

"Nothing else is left except this." The policeman handed them a small piece of cloth. Terry winced as he put it in her hand.

"What is this?"

"It was found near the body. Our guess is that she probably wrote this down with her blood before she died. However, we can't make heads or tails of it. It doesn't even make sense. It's just a bunch of numbers."

"Looks like we found something for Charlie to do." Don took the cloth and dropped it in a small plastic bag. Tipping it over, he looked at the numbers. "Why would she write numbers down?"

"Maybe she was trying to leave some kind of note. What are the numbers?" Terry walked away from the toilet and out of the bathroom, trying to keep the smell as far from her as possible.

"15191121252613." Don read as he followed suit. He laughed. "I don't even know why I bother trying to know what this means. Charlie would probably know in a heartbeat."

"Then maybe we should get out of here. We've already done all we can do."

"What do we put in the file then?" They walked into the kitchen where Amita was waiting for them, the files in her hand. Seated by the window, she was able to watch what everyone was doing and take notes at the same time. She nodded to the other two as they sat down.

"Isn't it obvious? The woman probably had one too many threats and ended the stress. This has suicide written all over it."

"She didn't kill herself." A young woman walked into the kitchen, glaring at Terry with red and blotchy eyes. The black hair that cut across her shoulders made her face look pale and sickly. She came forward, arms crossed. "Aren't you supposed to be detectives? You should be able to tell between a suicide and a murder."

"Ms … Thompson?" Don said cautiously. He couldn't see the similarities between the two women other than the crystal blue eyes.

"So where are your notes? You know, where you write down all the stuff you find at the crime scene?" The woman ignored him, continuing to glare daggers at Terry.

"There's not a lot to go on, Ms. Thompson. Sometimes, its hard to believe that someone we love can do something like this but –"

"No, you don't get it!" Ms. Thompson shouted at her, thrusting her fists on the table. Amita jumped, her eyes going wide. This wasn't going well. Don scooted his chair back a bit but Terry seemed unphased.

"What don't we get, Ms. Thompson?"

"Sure, my mom was a cutter but she wouldn't kill herself! Did you even check her wrists?"

"They were covered in blood."

"What about the cuts? You know, the one's she supposedly gave herself?' The woman demanded, her voice rising. "I bet you anything that they're horizontal!"

"What difference does it make what direction they go in? She could have slit a cross and still have died." Terry tried to keep her own emotions from rising but the knot in her stomach was making it hard.

"Look at my wrists!" Ms. Thompson thrust her arm into Terry's face. "If you cut around the wrist, the worse that could happen is that you could faint from blood loss. Not die from it. You would have to cut down along the vein, like a noodle." She pulled her arm away, pulling her shirt down over the scars. "I bet you anything that there are no cuts like that anywhere on her body."

"And how would you know all this?"

"She told me. I didn't kill her so just wipe that stupid look off your face."

"Why would she tell you how to kill yourself?"

Ms. Thompson didn't respond. She straightened out and crossed her arms again. "You don't care, do you? Fine, all you police are the same. Corrupt and moronic as ever. Get out before I sue you for misusing evidence."

Terry began to retort back but Don's firm hand pulled her out of her seat and out of the kitchen before she could even think. Amita gave the girl a small card.

"Here's Officer Epps' home number. If you change your mind, give him a call." Amita watched as the girl tossed the card on the counter but was simply glad she hadn't thrown it away. She smiled, walked out of the house and tried to ignore the argument between Terry and Don. Guess today wouldn't be a slow day after all.

Three hours later found Charlie inside his classroom, furiously erasing the chalkboard. It had taken all of his brain power to keep his eyes away from Amita as well as his thoughts during class. Now, with that formula his older brother had given him, he would be able to stay occupied during their study session. Thank goodness for math!

"Um, Professor Epps?"

"Hmm?" He jumped at her voice but regained himself. The last thing he needed was for her to know he felt nervous around her.

"Well, we've been in here for awhile and I was wondering why you hadn't said anything to me."

"You're busy studying."

"Yeah but you're the teacher. Aren't you supposed to help me study?"

"Oh, of course." He turned around and smiled. "Sorry about that. I got wrapped up in those numbers that Don gave me." Good, the absent-minded professor thing is working.

Now, just don't stare at her and you'll be fine. Focus on the problem, on the paper. Wow, her hands are so warm … STOP! Quick, act natural. "I like your bracelet." Oh, real smooth. I am such a dork.

"Uh, thanks." Amita smiled at him while scooting her chair closer.

"So, what problem do you need help on?"

"This one." She pointed down to the paper where a bunch of equations and erased numbers were. "I know the answer but I don't know how to solve it."

"How do you know the answer then?"

"You gave us the answers just an hour ago. You know, to check our work and study."

"Oh right," Charlie mentally kicked himself. How could he have forgotten that? He laughed a bit, hoping that he wouldn't seem like such an idiot. "Well, here. I'll show you." He started writing when Amita suddenly laughed.

"Professor-"

"Charlie," he corrected her. Her smile widened, which pleased him.

"Charlie," Amita said quietly. "I can't see what you're writing from across the table. It's not like I have the bubonic plague or something."

"Oh no ,of course not." Just steady yourself. Don't knock over any chairs. Sit down next to her, nice and easy. There you go! Now keep eye contact but not too much! You're the teacher here and she's the student.

"Alright, now let's get down to work. The problem starts here and then you have these two variables over here so you have to put the two together but to do that you have to—" Good, you're on a roll. Stay focused on the problem and not on her face. Damnit Charlie, stop staring at her! She'll think you're some kind of freak!

"What about this part? How am I supposed to get that?" Amita ran her hand across the paper and stopped inched from his own. He could feel the heat of her body and he felt his face turn red.

"Um, well you have to, you know, get the equation that fits with, um, the problem." Perfect, you're stammering. Keep your concentration on the paper. Don't think of anything that has to do with Amita. Ignore the fact that your heart feels like it's leaping out of your chest! IGNORE IT!

"Oh, I see it now. You have to get the output before you find the input. Thanks, Charlie. I owe you."

"How about lunch?"

"What?"

"Uh, well, I mean. It's just after noon and I'm kind of hungry and so I'm sure that you're hungry. I mean, you've been up since the department called us this morning and I haven't seen you eat anything so I thought that maybe you'd be hungry or something."

"Charlie?"

"Yes?"

"Breathe."

Charlie's shoulders slumped. He ran his hand through his dark curly hair, already dreading her response. What a stupid thing to say. How could he be such an idiot? Everything would be so awkward now and just when things were starting to pull together.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, for lunch. I am kind of hungry."

"Uh, how about that Italian restaurant down the street? I mean, if that's too fancy we can go somewhere else."

"It sounds perfect." Amita smiled as she laid her hand on top of his. Charlie felt immediately at ease, letting their fingers intertwine. He stood up quickly and started dragging her out of the room.

"Come on then!"

"What about studying?"

"We save that for later."

END OF CHAPTER TWO