Rippler Read Online Free PDF Page B

on a table before eight thirsty children. As their thirst increases, they try the door, but it remains locked.
    ‘What will happen when thirst drives them mad?’”
    “That’s twisted. Your sister’s advisor had a psycho math book.”
    “I’d say it’s no math book,” replied Will. “See this?” He pointed to a section in blue ink.
    “That’s Pfeffer’s handwriting. He was translating this. Or he was trying to. He didn’t get very far.”
    “Is the whole book like that?” I asked.
    “Only the first couple pages have English translations scribbled down.” Will flipped through a few more pages. “It’s sort of like French, maybe. See here? ‘ Les enfans’ —”
    “The children,” I said. “But it’s spelled wrong.”
    “Right,” agreed Will.
    He puzzled over a couple more pages while I drank my bubble tea. I smiled,
    remembering the first time I’d noticed him in French class last year when our pregnant teacher’s water exploded all over the ugly brown-and-grey linoleum. Everyone but Will wanted to puke; Will helped her to the office.
    “I think I’ll hold on to this book,” said Will. “But you read through everything else, and let me know if you have questions.”
    I pushed the plate with the remaining cinnamon polvorones towards Will. “I’m done.
    This bubble tea is really filling.”
    Will stuffed one in his mouth and grunted a thank you, still poring through the black book. “This is some weird stuff,” he said, stopping on another page with a long section in blue-inked English.
    Gwyn walked past, winking at us. Will didn’t see it, fortunately.
    Will’s cell vibed loudly from inside his pack. He flipped it open and frowned. “It’s my sister. She sent me a text from online . That’s creative.” He scrolled through the message. “She wants to know where her stuff is. This stuff,” said Will, tapping the packets in front of me.
    “Unbelievable. She hasn’t looked at any of this for months and now she needs it?” He shook his head.

    I pushed the manila folders back, one at a time. It felt like they weighed two hundred pounds each. I wanted that information so badly it hurt.
    “Hey,” said Will. “I think Mick’s helping at some all-day plant sale this Saturday. I could get everything back for you and we could go somewhere. You want to go to Yosemite?”
    I smiled. “I haven’t been in forever.”
    Will stuffed everything back in his pack, and I texted Sylvia to come get us. She showed up a few minutes later in her TT, greeted Will, and tossed me the keys.
    “Really?” I groaned.
    “A woman needs to know how to drive a car with a clutch.” It was something she said all the time. That, and, a woman needs to know how to use a can of pepper spray.
    “A woman should not have to embarrass herself in front of her teammates,” I said to Will as we stuffed ourselves in the tiny Audi. “Get ready for a bumpy ride.”
    Will and Sylvia did all the talking as I drove to his house. I had to concentrate to keep from killing the engine at the stop signs. I sent clouds of exhaust into the air each time, revving the car to keep it from dying. And as I watched the toxic clouds dissipating in the rearview mirror, I found myself wondering what kind of person would jot down sick riddles about bowls of poisoned water and thirsty children.
    Excerpted from the private journal of Girard L’Inferne, circa 1939
    Experiment 23, Control Group A
    Twelve hands grab at the basket of rolls and one comes up empty. The tray of tin cups is set down. Twelve hands reach and two close on opposite sides of the last cup.
    “What does it mean?” the children ask one another.
    The two who hold the cup battle. Fritz wrenches the cup free after kicking the other child.
    But the milk splatters everywhere.
    “What does it mean?” the children ask again, faces turned to Franz, the clever one, who is also the best in a fight.
    “It means that if it happens again tomorrow, the last two can fight for it.