Read Online The Candy Shop War, Vol. 2: Arcade Catastrophe by Brandon Mull - Free Book Online

cover, one with a racecar, one with a fighter jet, and one with a tank. Beside each inkpad rested a stamp.
    “Fifty thousand?” Nate asked.
    Todd nodded. “We don’t generally draw attention to them. Most people who notice think they’re mismarked.”
    “Inkpads?” Summer asked. “Like for stamps?”
    “The pads aren’t for sale,” Todd explained. “Just the stamps. Forty thousand for the sub or the racecar. Fifty thousand for the tank or the jet.”
    “For 50,000 tickets I get to stamp a tank on my hand?” Trevor deadpanned.
    “More than once,” Todd replied. “It could potentially amount to a lifetime supply. But only four people get to win each stamp.”
    “Are all the stamps available?” Nate asked.
    Todd shook his head slightly. “Two of the jet slots are gone. One tank slot is gone. No racecar slots are taken yet. One sub slot is gone. I happen to know there are plenty of people currently working to win the empty slots.”
    “Why?” Pigeon asked.
    “I’m not allowed to fully explain,” Todd said. “Earning the stamp is sort of like getting into a club. The details are only for those who succeed. Are you guys here to redeem any of those tickets?”
    Nate realized that they were all holding a lot of tickets. “No, later. We were just weighing our options.”
    Todd looked at Nate. “Keep shooting baskets how you were, and you’ll be able to afford anything on display.” He drummed his hands on the counter. “Have fun. I need to check on some things in the back.”
    Nate and his friends walked away.
    “Should we get a receipt for all of these tickets?” Summer asked.
    “Beats carrying them around,” Trevor said.
    It took some time to feed all the ribbons of tickets into the machines. In the end they got a receipt for over two thousand.
    “That’s a lot of bouncy balls,” Trevor said.
    “I might be aiming higher than bouncy balls,” Nate replied. “Let’s get out of here. We need to talk in private.”
    *****
    Their favorite location for secret Blue Falcon meetings was the Nest, a secluded hollow enclosed by trees and shrubs at the creek below Monroe Circle, the street where Nate, Trevor, and Pigeon lived. They were pedaling in that direction when a white van pulled over to the side of the road ahead of them. Ziggy got out and helped them load their bikes inside.
    “Why do I feel like I’m being kidnapped?” Trevor asked.
    “Because a pair of large men we’ve hardly met just piled us into their nondescript vehicle,” Pigeon replied.
    The roomy van had space for the bikes behind the two rows of benches where the kids sat. Victor was driving while Ziggy rode shotgun.
    “Where are we going?” Nate asked.
    “Nowhere definite,” Victor replied. “We’ll just drive and talk. We want to go over everything while it’s fresh in your minds.”
    “Did you snap any pictures?” Ziggy asked.
    “I forgot,” Trevor said.
    “I snuck a few,” Pigeon said. “I didn’t aim the shots, but I got one of the employees, along with some interesting customers.”
    Pigeon held up a digital camera, an image of Todd on the screen. Ziggy accepted the camera and studied the picture.
    “I don’t know this clown,” he said. “Might just be an ordinary deadbeat.” Ziggy started paging through other images. Pigeon leaned forward to narrate.
    “That’s Chris,” Pigeon said. “He’s one of the kids we think might be involved with the secret side of Arcadeland. Summer and I saw him float over a fence. He didn’t have a hat on at the time.”
    “They’re already recruiting?” Victor asked.
    “Seems that way,” Nate said. “You can earn stamps for forty or fifty thousand tickets. It’s a lifetime supply. The stamps are by far the most expensive prizes, and they’re kind of hidden. After I used Peak Performance to enhance my basketball score, Chris checked my hand. I bet he was looking for a stamp. I think the stamp gives access to whatever these guys are handing out.”
    “You