(no subject)
One left.
Veronia is kicking herself for not thinking of this earlier. What are the things that Woody Goodman is known for? Owning the Sharks. Being the "mayor of Neptune". And owning a chain of vanity hamburger joints.
She remembers coming here years and years ago, bouncing in the back seat of their car as her dad asked her, "Where should we go for lunch?" It's still that kind of place: bright primary colours and a goofy cartoon mascot. The specific joint Veronica enters doesn't have a ball pit, but one would fit right in.
Of course nowadays, Veronica muses, I'd rather be - heh - strapped down to an anthill than be seen in one of these places. But hey, desperate times...
The photographs are on display to the right of the counter, lined up behind trophies the teams have won. As a sponsorship note, a point of pride, all of the Little League Sharks teams for the past fifteen years or so are up there, grinning down. It doesn't take her long to find the appropriate year.
And there he is, the missing kid: she taps him with a finger then follows the photograph down, taking in the caption.
Front Row (L to R): Derek Applegate
And that's it. Veronica takes a small, grim sigh - it's over. It's just begun.
"Derek Applegate. Who are you, and where do you live...?"
All that's left is to find him, and to --
No. Veronia looks again at the photograph, the caption. She leans closer, frowning, seeing one last line.
Not Pictured:
She'd been barking up the wrong tree. If there were boys who weren't in the photo at all, then there was no way that she ever could have used that alone to...
Not Pictured:
No.
Cassidy Casablancas.
No.
The bright colours of the restaurant go into a spin, and Veronica feels like she's falling --
And suddenly it all --
I never touched
woody needs to pay for what he
she's a golddigger
there was a bomb on the
you're already
i have what?
rented a room at the
detonated by
had to be close enough to
meg -
mac -
close your eyes and think of england.
-- Makes sense.
"Oh, God."
Veronica throws up.
Veronia is kicking herself for not thinking of this earlier. What are the things that Woody Goodman is known for? Owning the Sharks. Being the "mayor of Neptune". And owning a chain of vanity hamburger joints.
She remembers coming here years and years ago, bouncing in the back seat of their car as her dad asked her, "Where should we go for lunch?" It's still that kind of place: bright primary colours and a goofy cartoon mascot. The specific joint Veronica enters doesn't have a ball pit, but one would fit right in.
Of course nowadays, Veronica muses, I'd rather be - heh - strapped down to an anthill than be seen in one of these places. But hey, desperate times...
The photographs are on display to the right of the counter, lined up behind trophies the teams have won. As a sponsorship note, a point of pride, all of the Little League Sharks teams for the past fifteen years or so are up there, grinning down. It doesn't take her long to find the appropriate year.
And there he is, the missing kid: she taps him with a finger then follows the photograph down, taking in the caption.
Front Row (L to R): Derek Applegate
And that's it. Veronica takes a small, grim sigh - it's over. It's just begun.
"Derek Applegate. Who are you, and where do you live...?"
All that's left is to find him, and to --
No. Veronia looks again at the photograph, the caption. She leans closer, frowning, seeing one last line.
Not Pictured:
She'd been barking up the wrong tree. If there were boys who weren't in the photo at all, then there was no way that she ever could have used that alone to...
Not Pictured:
No.
Cassidy Casablancas.
No.
The bright colours of the restaurant go into a spin, and Veronica feels like she's falling --
And suddenly it all --
I never touched
woody needs to pay for what he
she's a golddigger
there was a bomb on the
you're already
i have what?
rented a room at the
detonated by
had to be close enough to
meg -
mac -
close your eyes and think of england.
-- Makes sense.
"Oh, God."
Veronica throws up.