Chapter Twenty-One
As Dave handed Carrie the message from the placktoids, he dreaded her response. If he’d learned anything about her in the time they’d been friends, it was that she loved her pets very much, probably more than life itself.
Carrie was already a mess. Her apparently incurable cold had made her look terrible, and her hair was even more tangled and unkempt than usual. But the simple common cold and a bad hair day was nothing compared to the potential effect of the news that her pets had been kidnapped.
She was staring blankly at the paper, frozen in position. A single watery drop of mucus clung to the end of her nose.
“Carrie?”
She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. Dave wasn’t sure if she had forgotten to breathe.
“Carrie.”
Not a twitch.
“Maybe you should sit down.”
Fin
