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“Hey, you,” I call out. Carter grins and walks toward me. When we meet we embrace in a comforting hug.
“I missed your company last night.”
“I missed yours, too. Thanks for taking Nate home. He wasn’t even on my mind when I chased Izzy down the hallway.”
Carter waves as if there’s nothing to worry about.
“You were concerned about the person who should be your first priority: your little sister. In my book, you did exactly what you should have done.”
I grin, threading my fingers through his.
“What’s the plan for today?”
“I thought we could do something fun. Like an escape room?”
My brows furrow.
“An escape room? Have you done one of those?”
“Of course. Haven’t you?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“You’re in for a real treat, then. They’re the best.”
“I’ll drive,” I sing song. Before Carter can protest I turn around and skip to my car, eager to be in control for once.
“The key is clearly in a book,” Carter says as he throws book after book off the shelves. None of them open at all; they’re fake.
“The riddle says ‘Words on paper which you can read. With this ztory you’ll hear a ding.’ And the word ‘story’ has a z at the beginning for some reason. What book has to do with a ding?” I ask.
“I don’t know. But there has to be something in here!”
As he continues throwing books around, I mosey off into the center of the room. The room we chose is a lounge/study sort of thing. We’re making some progress -- at least I think we are -- and if I’m not mistaken, this riddle will help us find the key we need.
The fake study is cozy and comfy, with a big brown couch pushed against the wall. A large green rug is folded up in front of it, indicative of the searching we’ve done. There’s a trap door under the rug but, right as we were about to open it, one of the employees came through the intercom and said that it was a part of a separate escape game.
My eyes land on the desk. I walk over, admiring the small gold lamp and antique typewriter.
Wait a second. A typewriter. I’ve never used one, but all the movies show that it makes a ding whenever you hit the ‘return’ to advance a line down the page.
I trace my fingers lightly against the keys of the keyboard. They’re smooth and cool, made out of some sort of silver. I pull the riddle out of my pocket and read it over again. After staring at the note for a few seconds, I reach out and peck the ‘z’ key. There’s the sound of metal dropping within the machine.
When I turn around Carter is still throwing books all over the floor.
“Carter. Look.” I carefully lift the typewriter, which reveals a key sitting on the desk.
“We just had to lift the typewriter? That’s easy.”
“No. I pressed z.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because the riddle said ‘ztory’ instead of ‘story’. It’s the only thing that made sense.”
Carter grins at me.
“How did I land such an intelligent woman? I would still be tearing into that bookcase if it weren’t for you.”