When Peter and the others reached Mr. Rupert’s house, they caught the tail end of Goaltan’s speech. The words rang in their ears, “Peter and Lina, I am coming for you!”
Everyone stopped in the middle of whatever they were doing. Everyone, that is, except for Henry who was too busy checking out Mr. Rupert’s things. He was looking into a china cabinet full of angel sculptures.
Mr. Rupert fidgeted with the video recorder and said, “Almost got this thing ready to roll. Make yourselves at home.” Peter knew he was just trying to be polite, but “make yourselves at home” seemed a strange choice of words for that moment. No one could really relax enough to feel that comfortable now.
The video began playing. For a minute nothing happened. When Peter was about to suggest that Mr. Rupert fast forward, there was Goaltan in a close-up. The yellows of Goaltan’s eyes where the whites of his eyes should be were a bright contrast to his deep, dark, almost black irises. The hair on the back of Peter’s neck stood up.
Goaltan spoke. “As you can imagine, I am not pleased! In fact, I am infuriated! You will not be making a fool out of me any further, Mr. P. I have someone here. I believe you know him.” The camera panned out and there was an African-American boy with a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes. He wasn’t looking at the camera. Goaltan turned the boy’s head toward the camera and flicked the baseball cap off his head in one smooth motion.
“Curtis Wheeler!” Lina and Peter exclaimed. Curtis was a kid from their school.
“Sorry, Peter and Lina. He made me tell or he was going to obliterate my mom’s Cupcakery,” Curtis said.
“Oh, my young friend, about that. I still plan on obliterating it!” Goaltan chuckled deeply.
“But you said if I told you who Peter and Lina were, you—”
“Enough of the whining, boy!” Goaltan shouted. A short stocky Peblar took Curtis by the arm and led him out of camera range.
The cameraman zoomed in for another close-up of Goaltan, who seemed very pleased with himself. “Peter Fischer and Lina Young, you have slipped out of my hands for the last time. No one makes a fool out of me, no one!” The cameraman panned to show the location of Goaltan and his Peblars. They were now outside of Curtis Wheeler’s mother’s shop, the Cupcakery. Goaltan, wearing a malicious grin, reached his hand offscreen and returned with an elegant-looking cupcake. Goaltan closed his massive pebbled hand, smashing the cupcake to smithereens. He laughed an evil laugh that lingered in the air and added, “Peter and Lina, I am coming for you!”
Peter and Lina simultaneously gulped.
Lina stood straight up and said, “He makes me so mad. What gives him the right?”
Everyone agreed.
Nana said, “I better get my eyes shut and get back to Honeyville, partly because it will make me more tranquil and partly because I have this nagging feeling it will help.”
“Good idea, dear. Perhaps you can share with us out loud so we can all calm our nerves,” Papa said.
Nana looked around the room. Everyone seemed to like the idea.
“I will keep watch,” Rod said, moving toward the front window.
“I’ll help,” Mr. Rupert said, positioning himself by a narrow window next to the front door.
“We will rotate keeping watch. We don’t know if Goaltan knows where we live or how long it will take him to find out,” Peter’s dad said.
“Curtis has never been to either of our houses so he couldn’t have told Goaltan our addresses,” Peter said.
“Hopefully if he looks in the phone book, he will spell Fischer wrong. F-I-S-H-E-R is a common misspelling of our last name,” Peter’s dad said.
“We aren’t listed in the phone book. I don’t like all the solicitations,” Rod said. Both statements gave everyone some relief.
Nana picked up where she left off. She instantly brought them to a much more pleasant state. Henry’s mother told him to stop flicking Mr. Rupert’s mini-cactus plant and sit on the couch to listen to Nana’s story.