The Prisoner's Dilemma by Trenton Lee Stewart

Author:Trenton Lee Stewart [STEWART, TRENTON LEE]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2009-10-06T00:00:00+00:00

Time was growing short. By this afternoon, Mr. Curtain might be too powerful for anyone to have any chance of stopping him. Everything now seemed to depend on Constance’s ability to send her thoughts, clearly and accurately, across an unknown number of miles, into the mind of Mr. Benedict. It was no surprise that she was feeling the pressure. She had once thwarted the Whisperer itself, but that fight had called for her straightforward, stubborn resistance; her courage and obstinance had saved the day. This time was different, the task far more complex.

Never had Constance worked so hard or for so long. Minutes passed, and then an hour, and still she worked. And all it seemed she was doing was lying on the floor with her eyes squeezed tightly closed. In reality, her friends knew, she was sending out her thoughts again and again, then “listening” carefully for any kind of response. Reynie, Kate, and Sticky maintained perfect silence, breathing as softly as they could and trying hard (in Sticky’s case, extremely hard) not even to scratch their itches or stretch their legs. They knew that Constance’s ability to concentrate was of the utmost importance, that their fate, and indeed the fate of everyone they held dear, depended on Constance’s success.

Thus it was not a little disconcerting when Constance began to snore.

“Constance!” they cried, alarmed. “Constance! Wake up!”

Constance sat up with a start, then scowled and rubbed her eyes. “What? What is it, what’s wrong?” Lowering her fists, she noticed their stricken looks and said, “Oh. I guess I fell asleep…”

“Constance, how could you?” said Kate, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. I didn’t realize I did. I’d sent out the message for about the hundredth time, and each time I thought maybe I could hear Mr. Benedict saying something to me. But it was muddled and quiet, I couldn’t make out a word of it, and as far as I know it was my own imagination doing it. Right? I mean, if what you want more than anything is to hear someone’s voice in your head…” She yawned and stretched. “I can’t believe I fell asleep, though. I was a nervous wreck until—oh!”

“Oh what?” Reynie said.

“I remember what happened,” Constance said, closing her eyes and putting her fingertips to her temples. “I got this picture in my head, and it was so comforting it made me relax…” She opened her eyes. “I think I was so exhausted that relaxing for even a second just put me right out.”

“The same thing happened to me in the van,” Reynie said. “What was the picture?”

“It was Mr. Benedict and everybody. They all looked funny, dressed up in silly costumes, and all of them grinning at me.” Constance smiled. “Better yet, they were all holding pies—Moocho Brazos’s pies. I could practically smell them.”

“Sounds to me like you were already dreaming,” Sticky said.

Constance considered this. “Maybe so. It was an awfully silly image to have pop into my head.”

Reynie, however, was growing excited. “Constance,” he said urgently, “don’t you think it might have been a message from Mr.

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