Read Online Squiggle by B.B. Wurge - Free Book Online Page A

very much. The voice began to cough, as if the scream had irritated its throat. Finally it got over its coughing fit and said, “A WHAT? Timmy, is that what you said? A . . . a . . . no, you’re making it up.”
    Toby insisted it was true.
    â€œBut do you know what that means?” the snuffly voice said. “Trevor, the last pentagonal eyeball was lost in 1754 at Versailles. And you say this man, this, ah, business partner, has found another one? A fresh one? Is it . . . is it actually still in, if you know what I mean? Still in somebody’s head?”
    â€œI’m afraid it is,” said Toby.
    â€œAnd this business partner . . . very smart of him to keep his name secret. . . . I hope he isn’t too shy to . . . that is . . . to remove it? From the, ah, person who currently owns it?”
    â€œI hear he’s offered a huge amount of money,” Toby said, “and the person who owns the eye is willing to sell it. But only if it’s done with the best instruments. That’s what the case is for.”
    â€œI see, I see, I see,” said the voice, chuckling now. “Good boy, you’ve come to me, your old friend Sclera, to help you out, because you know how much I like you. Is there any chance I’d get to see this pentagonal? Or bid on it? Or . . . or . . . this is a dream come true, Tyler.”
    â€œAll I know,” Toby said, “is that the case has to get to Paris by tomorrow evening. It’s to be left at the foot of the Eiffel Tower at eight o’clock sharp, and someone will come by and pick it up. But only if nobody is watching. It’s all terribly secret.”
    â€œI see, I see,” said Mr. Sclera. “That makes sense of course. In a situation like this. Yes, yes, I can get it there. Don’t you worry. I can find someone all right. I can . . . yes. But not without some hard payment. It’s all very exciting . . . but how can I know it’s a real pentagonal? And maybe I’ll never get to see it? I can’t eat and live off of excitement. No, no, you’ll pay me for the expense, won’t you? What will you pay me?”
    â€œIn about a week,” Toby said, “my dad will hear back, and if everything went okay I’ll be able to pay you. You know I have a Red Delicious. I’ll—”
    â€œA Red Delicious?” Mr. Sclera said, in another gurgly scream. “That’s what you’ll pay me? Don’t mock me, Tyrone! I’ve got six Red Delicious already, and I don’t even know how to sell them, they’re that common. A Red Delicious! I might pay you fifty dollars for it, but a trip to Paris? On one hour notice? I thought you had a matched pair of Auburns. What about that as a start? As a start, I’m telling you.”
    â€œMy Auburns!” Toby said. “How did you know about my Auburns?”
    â€œWell, well, Truman dear,” the voice said with a self-satisfied chuckle, “I know more than you think. I’m not so old and stupid as that. And I have my ways. Remember that Oval I sold you a few months ago? That and the Auburns would do it for me. Pay me that, and I’ll get your case to Paris for you, on time too.”
    Squiggle couldn’t entirely follow this part of the conversation, because of all the strange and complicated names for different eyeballs and parts of eyeballs. In the end, Toby agreed to pay some part of his eyeball collection that was more valuable than he had wanted to give up, and less valuable than Mr. Sclera had hoped to get. But the deal was done, and on the whole, both sides seemed satisfied. Toby left, and for a little while the room was quiet except for the very low murmur of Mr. Sclera talking to himself. Squiggle couldn’t make out the words.
    As she peered out of the hole in the suitcase, she saw the old man’s hand come into view holding a container that looked like a salt shaker. It was eyeball food, as she realized a moment