The Frights of Fiji, Sunayna Prasad [best thriller books to read .txt] 📗

“Uncle Bruce, I’ve had enough of—”

“Alyssa, don’t you understand that strictness is actually a good thing? A strict tutor will only help you get better.”

“So you’re saying that if I had an easygoing tutor, I wouldn’t get better?”

“I’m not saying that, but it’d be unlikely for you to improve as much as if you had a strict tutor.”

Alyssa sighed again. She’d had enough of that attitude. In school, she had had some easygoing teachers, but ever since she’d left, she had experienced nobody laid back watching her.

Minutes had gone by. Uncle Bruce turned onto Libra Court and parked at the fourth house in. Everybody hopped out and walked to the front door. Uncle Bruce rang the doorbell, and a frowning man wearing round glasses answered. A bushy gray mustache drooped passed his mouth, making his frown appear larger. Alyssa inhaled and exhaled. This guy would probably behave more like Uncle Bruce and Mrs. Hutchinson.

“Hello, I’m Augustus Steinberg.”

“Bruce Flynn.” Uncle Bruce shook hands with Mr. Steinberg.

Alyssa and Hailey followed Mr. Steinberg inside. He sat them in his living room.

“So I’ll be done with them at five o’clock, okay?” Mr. Steinberg said.

“I’ll be here by then.” Uncle Bruce returned to the car.

Mr. Steinberg closed the door. “I need to make a phone call before we get started. Also, we have another girl joining us today.”

“Who’s that?” asked Hailey.

“Her name’s Destiny Cox,” answered Mr. Steinberg. “I was able to squeeze her in.”

Destiny Cox? That girl from Alyssa’s old elementary school that used to pick on her? Now that Alyssa had been pulled out of the school, Destiny had new reasons to bully her. Mr. Steinberg could catch Destiny and discipline her, however. Then Alyssa would support his rules and attitude—unless Destiny succeeded at hiding her taunting or teasing.

The doorbell rang, and Mr. Steinberg answered it. Destiny and her mother stood outside. Mr. Steinberg greeted them.

“Mom, do I have to go?”

“Destiny Leigh Cox, do you want me to ground you for another week?” her mom asked.

“No.”

“So please cooperate,” said Mrs. Cox.

She left, and Destiny stepped inside. Alyssa clapped her hand under her chin and arched her eyebrows. Mrs. Cox had punished Destiny for a week—yet Destiny had more behavioral problems.

Mr. Steinberg pointed at the living room and repeated to Destiny what he’d told Alyssa and Hailey. Destiny walked toward Alyssa and Hailey. She smiled and flicked her long dark-brown braids behind her shoulders.

“Hello, losers.” She sat down. “How’s life now without any friends?”

“We still have friends,” Hailey said.

“Yeah, Madison said hi to me yesterday,” said Alyssa.

      “Well, Madison doesn’t go to Bursnell anymore,” said Destiny.

“So?” asked Alyssa.

“Do any of your other friends say hi or call you besides Madison?”

Alyssa exhaled.

“Ha! I knew it! They don’t care about you anymore. In fact, they all have boyfriends now.”

“Shut up, Destiny,” said Alyssa.

“No! You shut up, nerd!”

“Leave her alone,” said Hailey.

“Yeah, Destiny, please stop,” said Alyssa.

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“Still,” said Alyssa.

“What do you mean, ‘still’?” asked Destiny. “You’re not a teenager yet. You’re still a preteen. I’ve been a teenager for three months. So I’m older than you.”

“Not by such a big difference,” said Hailey. “Alyssa is turning thirteen next month.”

“Girls, it’s time!” Mr. Steinberg called from the staircase.

The girls stood up and followed Mr. Steinberg up the stairs to a small room. Dirt and dust covered the gray carpet. The walls were painted lemon yellow, as if Mr. Steinberg didn’t want his students to relax. Despite the filthy carpet and bright-colored wall, Mr. Steinberg’s desk had nothing on it except piles of paper and a desktop computer.

Mr. Steinberg started the session by going over the rules. Alyssa didn’t mind the rules of no eating or drinking, no using electronics, and only one bathroom break per person each hour. However, if she were to get distracted, Mr. Steinberg would smack a ruler on the desk side in front of her.

“All right, girls, I’m going to give you some reading booklets,” said Mr. Steinberg. “According to your parents, you all need help with English comprehension.” He distributed one to each girl. “The first two times, I’m going to read the stories. But after that, you’re on your own.”

 

About the expected amount of time had passed. Alyssa finished working on the last math problem in her booklet.

Mr. Steinberg said, “All right, girls, pencils down.”

They all stopped working.

“The session has ended,” said Mr. Steinberg. “You may go downstairs and wait for your parents.”

The girls stood up and headed out of the room. When Alyssa approached the staircase, she heard another swish. Looking down, she saw a small sticky note at her feet. She picked it up and read it.

 

Hi Alyssa,

 

You may meet me in the bathroom on the second floor now.

 

Cheers,

Simon

 

“Alyssa, what are you doing?” asked Mr. Steinberg.

“Um . . .” Alyssa shoved the note into her jeggings pocket. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Yes. Go down till you reach the last door on your right.”

Alyssa walked toward the bathroom. Stepping inside, she turned the lights on—but gasped at Simon, who stood still. He inhaled and jumped back. “Blimey, Alyssa, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she said. “So did you get all the information about why Duchamp wants me?”

“Yep. I also tried to get some information about what Duchamp wants to do with your uncle. But he’s still thinking about it.”

“Oh boy.”

“I wish I could stop him.” Simon paused. “Now let me talk about why Duchamp wants you. It all started back in the spring of 1982, when Duchamp and his wife, who’s dead now, had a baby named Jacque, who was a maglack.”

“What’s a maglack?”

“A person born into a wizarding family with no magical skills or abilities. Anyway, Duchamp and his wife were worried about him growing up with wizards and how he would have a tough time. So they put him up for adoption. He was adopted a year and a half later by an American family, and his new name became Derrick Wesley.”

Alyssa gasped. “T-that was the name of the guy who killed my parents.”

“I’ll get to that later. When his son was adopted, Duchamp used a special magical device that could receive the images and personal information of his son’s new adoptive parents. But it wouldn’t be able to track his actions until he found that he was adopted.”

“When was that?”

“Early October 2004, a month after he moved into your neighborhood. I was able to absorb that too. Anyhow, Derrick was so angry that he became a troublemaker.”

“How’d he find out that he was adopted?”

“He was at a family reunion, and his adopted father drank a little too much.” Simon exhaled “He let that secret slip. Anyway, do you remember receiving opened packages of candy drizzled with soap when you were seven?”

“Yeah. It was in a gift pouch outside the Wesleys’ house.”

“That was from Derrick.”

      “My mom yelled at him on the phone the next day, and I couldn’t get everything she said.”

“All the neighbors yelled at him. From then on… he got terrible drinking problems. The night he killed your parents—he drank too much.”

“I’m never going to forget that.” Alyssa covered her head.

“No one does.” Simon shook his head. “But Duchamp had found out everything on the Internet when he searched for Derrick Wesley on Google. He was so upset and did something so horrible and illegal… the French wizarding government exiled him to Australia.”

“Why did he move to the Fiji Islands then?”

“He moved there a few months after. In Australia’s wizarding communities, the government was strong enough to track every harmful spell and arrest any wizard who cast one. He couldn’t hide from them.”

“Good.”

“That was why he moved to the Fiji Islands, where he could cast charms to block the government and police from finding him.”

“But he waited until last fall to go to my parents’ graves?”

“He was too busy working on his dark magic center.”

“What the—?”

“Yep, he was also hiring people to work for him, and he built a magical computer. He tested the charms too. But they were so hard to create, so he didn’t make them fully until last September.”

Alyssa sighed and her eyes watered. “Why did he go to my parents’ graves?”

“He had become so stressed that he had trouble being logical with his reasons. He decided to blame your parents for Derrick’s arrest.”

Alyssa covered her mouth.

“Duchamp also decided to blame them for his major stress and depression. He’s just had so many issues.”

“That’s terrible.” Alyssa smeared her eyes.

“He decided that he needed to harm you so that he could go back to France and became a major tyrant to take revenge on the French government. When a wizard or maglack kills someone, either magically or not, the family members on both sides are eligible to form connections. And only if the last family member is weakened can the sorcerer become extremely powerful. If Duchamp doesn’t weaken you, he’ll never be able to overpower the French government.”

“But then why does he want to take me to the Fiji Islands?”

“Besides the reason I told you last time we met, the killing spell doesn’t work anymore. It was blocked six years ago when a massive wizarding war took place in Russia. The international magic control let out charms to the magic satellite in space to block it from being used.”

“So if he’s invisible to the police and government, then how can I report him?”

“I don’t know. You might not be able to.”

There was a knock on the door. Alyssa gasped. “Yeah?”

“Your uncle’s here,” said Mr. Steinberg.

“Coming,” said Alyssa.

“I’ll send you another note about the incidents so that you can show your uncle,” whispered Simon. He pushed himself into the air. He held out his arms and disappeared.

Alyssa rushed out the bathroom and down the stairs. Hailey and Uncle Bruce stood by the door.

“Let’s go,” said Uncle Bruce.

Alyssa followed him and Hailey to the car.

 

 

5

 

“Are you okay, Alyssa?” Hailey asked as Uncle Bruce backed out of Mr. Steinberg’s driveway.

“I . . . um . . . have some stuff to say,” said Alyssa.

“What?” asked Hailey.

“I saw the talking marble figure again and—”

“Alyssa McCarthy, stop making things up,” said Uncle Bruce.

“I’m not making it up,” she said. “I really did see a talking marble figure. He told me—”

“Since when did you start making