The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across Arnold's room. He stirred awake, a sense of serenity enveloping him as he felt the comforting warmth of a body beside him.
Turning his head, he smiled at Phoebe, her hair a tousled mess framing her peaceful face like a halo.
They lay entwined, completely at ease in their nakedness, a world away from the troubles that loomed outside their cocoon.
"Good morning," Arnold murmured, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
Phoebe's eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile spreading across her lips. "Good morning," she replied, her voice thick with lingering dreams. "I could get used to this."
"Me too," Arnold said, pulling her closer, feeling the rhythm of her heartbeat against his. In that moment, everything else faded away—the drama, the chaos, even the ever-looming threat of Curly.
For now, they were simply two teenagers wrapped in their own little bubble of bliss.
But after a few moments of quiet serenity, reality nudged them back to the surface. Arnold glanced at the clock, its relentless ticking ushering in the day's responsibilities. "We should get ready," he said reluctantly, the weight of their busy day ahead settling heavily on his shoulders.
Phoebe nodded in agreement, her smile lingering. She leaned in for a soft kiss, then sat up. "Last night was amazing."
He watched as she walked to the bathroom, awestruck by her effortless beauty, even after a night of passion that left no moment for rest.
He had longed for this—dreamt of it—and he had given the performance of a lifetime.
But as he basked in the afterglow, he couldn't help but ponder the circumstances that had led them to this moment. Who would have guessed that the nefarious activities happening right under their noses could orchestrate something so beautiful?
Still, the thought of facing Gerald filled him with dread. The discomfort was palpable—not just because of Phoebe, but due to Gerald's drug addiction and the pressures that pushed him to seek solace in substances. In hindsight, Gerald's superhuman abilities made sense; they explained how he managed to juggle everything and even succeed.
As they both got dressed, the mood shifted from serene to slightly anxious. "Do you think Lila's okay?" Phoebe asked, biting her lip as she slipped on her shirt.
"Curly's unpredictable," Arnold replied, his brow furrowing at the thought of her predicament. He knew the stakes were far higher than they seemed, and they were up against a psychopath capable of snapping at anyone who crossed him.
There was still so much they didn't know, so much they couldn't technically prove. Questions swirled in his mind: How had the gas explosion occurred? How had Lila managed to wipe out ten bank accounts in one fell swoop?
They were all just evidence-less accusations.
Would anyone even believe them?
…
When they stepped into the common area of the boarding house, they were met with utter chaos. Grandpa paced back and forth, his face a mask of disbelief.
"Pookie, call the bank! They drained our account!" he shouted, waving his phone in the air like a weapon against the injustice.
"Mine too! I just checked; I can't believe this!" Ernie yelled, clutching his own phone, his face pale with shock.
"It's financial fraud!" Mr. Hyunh exclaimed, bewildered, his usually composed demeanor shattered.
Arnold and Phoebe exchanged worried glances, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
"We have to go to the police," Arnold urged, urgency flooding his veins. "This has Lila's fingerprints all over it."
He instructed his grandfather to alert all the banks while he and Phoebe rushed to report the robbery.
They climbed into Arnold's car, speeding toward the police station.
As they navigated the streets, Arnold's phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID—Gerald. "It's Gerald," he informed Phoebe, putting the call on speaker mode.
"Arnold, shit, shit, shit! I need your help, man!" Gerald's frantic voice crackled through the speaker. "Lynette is… she's not responding!"
"What do you mean?" Arnold asked, alarm blooming in his chest as he exchanged anxious looks with Phoebe.
"She's just lying there, man! I don't know what's wrong! Please, hurry!" Gerald's voice cracked with desperation.
"Where are you?" Arnold asked, his heart racing.
"My house—don't tell anyone, please hurry!" Gerald begged.
"I'm on my way." Arnold hung up, adrenaline coursing through him.
Phoebe threw her hands up in frustration. "What the hell is going on?! Do you think she's—"
Arnold couldn't reassure her of anything. There was no way to know what was happening, and he couldn't even convince himself that everything would be okay.
"I don't know…" was all he could manage.
"I can't leave you to handle this alone," Phoebe insisted, concern etched on her face.
"I'll be okay," Arnold reassured her, squeezing her hand tightly. "We need to split up. If something's wrong with Lynette, I need to be there for Gerald. I'll drop you off at the police. You can tell them what's happening with the money."
"Fine," Phoebe said, torn. "But promise you'll call me as soon as you can."
"I promise," Arnold replied, pulling her in for a quick hug, their foreheads touching gently in a silent exchange of hope for each other's safety before she jumped out at the police station.
"Please be careful."
They shared one last look filled with unspoken worry before rushing off in opposite directions.
…
Inside the police station, Phoebe was greeted by Officer Johanssen, who appeared more than happy to assist her.
"Officer Johanssen," she said, her voice steady despite the internal unease churning within her. "I need to report something urgent. There was a robbery."
He examined her. "I'm glad you came in, Phoebe. Everyone at Sunset Arms has been calling in about that since 5 AM. There's a unit already deployed to investigate; they're working closely with the banks."
Phoebe nodded as they sat in a quiet room. "Um, I also think it might be connected to the explosion at school."
This caught his attention. "How so?"
"I think the same person responsible for the robbery also caused the explosion…" She chose her words carefully, weighing the gravity of her claims.
The older man leaned in, intrigued. "That explosion was ruled an accident, Phoebe. We had our guys look into it, professionals; there was a gas leak. You suspect foul play?"
She nodded, her heart racing. "Okay, I know this sounds crazy, but I think Curly… Thaddeus Gammelthorpe... is behind all of this. He's selling drugs, and somehow Lila's dad owes him money. He's using her to do all kinds of things as repayment for her dad's debt, like stealing money and causing explosions… I also don't think she is safe from him."
"Extortion?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"Yes," she insisted, desperation creeping into her voice.
Officer Johanssen shook his head, looking confused. "Curly, Lila? Why would they blow up a school?"
Phoebe stumbled over her words. "I don't know why they did that specifically."
"How did you find out that they are behind the explosion?"
Although Phoebe wanted to mention her eavesdropping from last night, she realized she had no concrete proof and would probably charged with trespassing herself if she admitted to it.
She also did not want to implicate Gerald, and what he was doing there to his own father.
"Uhm, she had threatened Helga and me earlier. In PE class. She was jealous that Arnold had confessed to liking Helga… literally an hour before," Phoebe explained.
"So she staged a gas explosion because of a boy?" Officer Johanssen asked. "That sounds like overkill."
It indeed sounded crazy, even to her. "I think Curly instructed her to do it."
"Okay. Why would he want to blow up the school, love triangle?"
Phoebe shrugged, hitting a dead end in her logic.
She hadn't considered that she had no solid evidence to pin Lila and Curly to the explosion except for a dirty look Lila had shot her and her best friend.
"Fine, I know I have a lot of gaps in my story, but I'm pretty sure Lila's behind everyone's missing money." It was a last-ditch attempt to pin something on them. "She slept over at Arnold's house a few days ago, where all the victims reside."
"Phoebe, wiping clean everyone's bank accounts takes sophisticated cyber technology and skill that I doubt Lila has access to."
"Curly made her do it…"
A few minutes of silence engulfed the room as Officer Johanssen jotted down notes, his expression kind yet patient. He was trying to piece together what Phoebe was attempting to convey, but her claims felt too disjointed and far-fetched.
He furrowed his brow. "I appreciate you bringing this to me, Phoebe. You won't believe how many tips concerning that explosion we've received since it occurred. Everyone's worried—after something like that happens, we all get paranoid, overprotective. We think we see things that aren't really there. I've been investigating a local drug cartel that's been trying to infiltrate our community for years. Our kids are getting caught up in this, and they're losing their lives. As young as 22, can you believe it? And I can promise you that if there's one person who is not involved in that ring it's Thaddeus."
Phoebe shifted tactics, desperation lacing her voice. "No, you don't understand. Curly's dangerous. He's been manipulating everyone—especially Lila—for some twisted scheme. I'm pretty sure he's trying to grow his drug enterprise."
"Curly's been working as an informant for us, Phoebe," Officer Johanssen replied. "It seems a bit counterintuitive to help the PD and then blow up a school while blackmailing Lila for her dad's unpaid debts. He's no crook and has no ties to that side of town. If Lila were really in trouble, you should encourage her to come in."
Phoebe could see it in his eyes—he thought she was losing her grip on reality.
"Phoebe," he continued, softening slightly, "you're clever and trustworthy. You wouldn't just spin tall tales. I'll look into your claims and get back to you, okay?"
Grateful for his willingness to help, Phoebe was about to press further when a colleague interrupted. "Hey, we need you. There's an ambulance called to your house," he said, urgency lacing his tone.
Officer Johanssen's expression shifted to one of concern. "I need to handle this. We'll talk later, okay?" He hurried out, leaving Phoebe alone and discouraged.
She tried calling Arnold, but he didn't answer. Panic washed over her as she realized the commotion at Gerald's house must have drawn quite a bit of attention from the bustling station.
She dialed Arnold three more times, each call going unanswered.
Whatever was happening at Gerald's was bad—really bad. Arnold clearly didn't have things under control.
Neither did she.
...
Arnold burst through the door at Gerald's house, calling out, "Gerald!" He found his friend in the living room, pacing anxiously, his face pale and drawn.
"Thank god you're here!" Gerald exclaimed, turning to him, his voice shaky. "I—I don't know what to do! Lynette and I… we were taking drugs last night. We fell asleep. I thought she was fine, but now…"
"Breathe. It'll be okay," Arnold urged, trying to maintain his composure despite the weight of the situation. "Where is she?"
Gerald led him to his bedroom, where Lynette lay unconscious on the bed. Arnold's heart raced as he leaned over her, checking for signs of life.
There were none.
"Lynette, can you hear me?" he urged, shaking her gently and tapping her shoulders. She didn't respond.
"Call 911!" Arnold shouted at Gerald, urgency pouring from every word. "She needs medical attention—now!"
As Gerald fumbled for his phone, Arnold's mind raced with possibilities. He couldn't shake the feeling that Curly was orchestrating this chaos.
"Gerald, we need to call your dad," Arnold said, looking back at him. Gerald nodded, fear etched across his face. "When the paramedics come, you need to tell them exactly what drugs you guys took."
…
Back at the police station, Phoebe felt a wave of urgency wash over her. She felt faint from hunger and thought a cup of coffee might help.
Luckily, there was a makeshift tea/coffee bar for visitors.
Suddenly, Curly appeared at her side, casually preparing tea, his demeanor unsettling.
"You know, coffee makes me jittery. I prefer tea," he said, flashing a disarming smile. "How are you, Phoebe? I haven't seen you in years. I could have sworn I dreamt about you last night."
Her stomach churned, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you doing here, Curly?"
"It's a shame about everything that's happening," he said smoothly, stirring his drink. "The neighborhood really isn't safe anymore. But don't worry—I installed cameras. I keep a close watch on my surroundings. If anything goes down, I usually know."
Phoebe's heart raced as she realized he was aware of her presence last night. "Where's Lila?" she demanded.
Curly pointed casually behind him. Lila stood a few feet away, engaged in conversation with an officer. This puzzled Phoebe.
"Curly, you're not going to get away with this—" she started, but he interrupted her with a mocking grin.
"Look, doll, if you have anything against me, report me." With that, Curly stepped back, seemingly uninterested in the tea, but allowing Lila to see Phoebe. He turned to leave.
"Hey, Phoebe!" Lila waved cheerfully and she followed Curly out the door.
As the door swung shut behind them, Phoebe's heart skipped a beat.
Where was Arnold when she needed him?