Emily Ecton

“let me get this straight. There’s no scholarship. We’re not competing for ten thousand dollars. We’re competing for millions of dollars?” Melissa wondered if she should pinch herself. This sure didn’t seem like real life. She looked over at the doughnut counter. With a million dollars, she could buy them all. She could probably buy the whole coffee shop. “Yep.” Bondi nodded enthusiastically. Melissa stared at him. Bondi didn’t seem quite real, either, nodding like a bobblehead like that. “And let me get this straight. We’re not competing against each other. We’re competing against Smith and his sister? Enoch Ambrose’s kids?” Bobblehead Bondi nodded again. Melissa stared at him. “You must’ve heard wrong.” “No, it’s right! It’s totally right. If we can solve the clues, we inherit. We just need to figure out our invitations. Where we’re supposed to go, and when. That’s it.” “Oh, is that it? Well, great,” Melissa said. “What a cinch.” She snorted, then frowned. She didn’t usually snort in dreams. But this couldn’t be real. Could it? She turned and stared at Wilf, who was just sitting like a lump staring at them both. Melissa stuck out her arm. “Wilf? Would you do me a favor?”
― Emily Ecton, The Ambrose Deception