Simon won.

For the second time that night, as shrills and shrieks of pure bliss from the Westies broke out, Matthew couldn't breathe. Beside him, John collapsed to his knees and started to sob, drool pouring out of his mouth. The rest of the Free Territory children were as upset. Slink was so distraught he nearly smashed Blue Thunder into a park bench.

***

Wretched.

That was still the mood several days later. A mood that not even the best show by the best choir in the world, let alone an amateur choir, could change. Not even if the Petersons' choir were all holding puppies as they sang would have helped, but Matthew and the others had promised to attend the show.

'We're going to be late,' said Matthew, as he, Norman, John and Slink stood on the beach with the rest of the boys. He wiped sand off both his new neon shirt and new neon pair of pants. All the boys were wearing the same thing.

'Well, that's not our fault, is it?' growled Norman. He threw a pebble into the water and watched it skip.

'This green is disgusting,' said John. 'We look absolutely awful. It's as if a radioactive turtle puked all over us.'

'It's not that bad,' said Matthew, somewhat honest. Their new clothes had been made from an array of material Aldo and Jeff had given them as a thank you. The material had included eye-pleasing colors and patterns, but the girls got to use those first to make clothes for themselves, leaving the boys with what was left.

John shook his head and replied, exaggerating, 'Matthew, we're glowing in the dark. I bet you right now out there –' he pointed out to sea '– ship captains are wondering if a lighthouse has just been built here. Why couldn't we have the good material and the girls use this stuff?'

'Do you really need someone to answer that?' said Matthew.

As John just grunted in response, Matthew looked up at the moon in the night sky. It was full, large and as bright as it could be. Before the race he would have been astonished by it, but tonight he couldn't find its magic. The others had said the awful feeling of losing would slowly go, but he felt the same as he did right after Simon had crossed the finish line before Slink.

'Here they come,' Slink blurted out. Two rowboats full of girls, all of whom had their hair done up nicely, were gliding over the smooth water toward the beach.

Once there, they all departed for the theatre.

'We don't look half bad,' said Chloe, entering the storm drain. She had glanced around at everyone before admiring her dress. It was yellow and covered with daisies.

'Shame we don't have new shoes to go,' said Jennifer.

It did look a bit strange to see everyone wearing their old and ragged shoes with their new clothes, thought Matthew. The copious amounts of soot from the wood stove used for shoe polish did not help at all.

'Speaking of which,' said Matthew, jumping over a rat eating a rotting dead pigeon. 'I think we need to find some for Ramon, pronto.'

Ramon was plodding along in front of him. The soles of his shoes were flapping all over the place.

Matthew heard John sulking. 'Again, they're not that bad, John.'

With a sullen face, John was dragging his feet. 'It's not the clothes.'

'That race is over and done with,' said Chloe, knowing exactly what was troubling him. 'We have to let it go.'

'I know,' said John, 'It's still a tough pill to swallow. We were so close. We would have probably found new shoes for everyone on Long Street by now if we'd have won. We shouldn't be going to this thing tonight . . . we should be practicing for the next race.'

'We did say we'd go,' said Jennifer. She dodged a trickle of dirty water that had suddenly dripped down from a small grate above her head.

'Actually, it was John who said we'd go,' said Norman.

John gave Norman a glaring look and snarled feebly.

'Well, whatever,' said Jennifer, 'a promise is a promise. The Petersons are our clients, so it's best to keep them happy with us.'

'The Petersons adore us,' said John, 'they won't mind if we don't go.'

'You're probably right,' said Jennifer, 'but there's also going to be free food there, something that children in our situation should never pass up.'

John just nodded in agreement.

Lester Hall was rather something, dazzling with charm and grandeur. Along the front, ten pillars stretched from top to bottom, and a ticket booth rested like a beacon on top of a stone staircase. Never would an amateur choir be able to perform there, but being the Petersons had been in the entertainment business, they had their connections.

'Can I help you?' asked the woman tending the ticket booth when they had climbed the staircase. Along with a red vest and glasses with thick black rims, she was wearing a very warm smile.

Walking over to the booth, Chloe replied. 'We're here to see the choir tonight.' She stood on her tiptoes.

'Do you have tickets?'

'We do,' said Chloe. She gestured at Slink behind her.

Slink pulled out everyone's ticket from his pocket and fanned them out so the woman could see.

'Perfect,' said the woman, 'Just walk through the doors –' she nodded to a large set of inviting wooden doors '– and someone will be there to check them.'

Chloe smiled at the woman. 'Thank you.'

'No problem. Have a good time.'

Beyond the doors was even more wonderful. Numerous extravagant chandeliers twinkled in the lobby and red velvety chairs gleamed lavishly around well-polished tables. There was a buffet right in the middle, a large crowd of well-dressed adults stuffing their faces. Matthew was reminded of Wendy and Howie's celebration.

'Tickets, please,' said a man standing just within. He was also wearing a red vest, which went with his red pants.

Slink was about to show him the tickets when a voice called out, 'It's all right, Chris, they're all good.' It was Mr Peterson.

The man in the red vest gestured the children forward into the lobby, giving each one a program of the performance.

'John . . . Chloe . . . Slink,' said Mr Peterson when he came over, 'the rest of my chimney sweeping chums . . . so pleased you could make it. Parents?'

'Sorry, they couldn't come,' said Jennifer.

'Not even one?' Mr Peterson was wide-eyed.

Shrugging, John replied, 'Not. Even. One.'

'What a shame, I was really hoping to meet some of them. Oh, well. All of you girls look beautiful. And you boys . . . very smart. I had no idea that florescent green had come into fashion.'

'It's neon green,' John mumbled to himself.

'You look smart too,' said Chloe.

Mr Peterson was in a black suit, tails almost touching the floor. He also had on a black bow tie, had a red kerchief in his breast pocket, and had on the most pointy of black shoes.

'Thank you very much,' Mr Peterson replied as he fiddled with his bow tie.

'We're really looking forward to the show,' said Jennifer. 'We were so happy you didn't have to cancel it.'

'Yes, the Doc came back from her family emergency just in time,' said Mr Peterson.

'What a turnout,' said Matthew.

'Incredible, isn't it?' Mr Peterson turned toward all the people at the buffet. 'But look at them . . . bloody gannets.'

'So, is the mayor coming?' asked John.

'Turns out that rumor wasn't very accurate.' Mr Peterson's face conveyed disappointment. 'You boys and girls better get over to the buffet before all the food is gone.'

Hungry, they scurried over to the buffet, finding a space where they all could squeeze in.

'These are puny,' said Norman, holding up a minuscule sandwich cut into a triangle with all the crust removed. 'I don't think I've ever seen bread so white before . . . or feel so soft. It's like a sponge.'

'Why do people cut the crusts off sandwiches?' asked Slink. He took a sandwich for himself and sniffed the filling. 'It's the best part. I bet all the crusts of all these sandwiches are just sitting in a garbage bag somewhere . . . what a waste.'

A podgy man in a tweed jacket and scarf reached across Matthew and picked up a small cracker with a brown blob smeared on top of it. 'Try these, the pate is top notch,' he said before continuing on down the buffet.

'What's pate?' asked Emily.

'It's mushed up meat,' replied Matthew, wondering why the man was wearing a scarf indoors. It was fairly warm inside the lobby.

Emily grabbed a cracker with pate and wolfed it down. 'Tastes like rat.'

'It probably is,' said Matthew. He picked up a toothpick skewered through a piece of square cheese.

'Do any of you see any cereal?' asked John.

'They won't have cereal here,' said Chloe, stealthily padding her pockets with food. The food was for Smoky, who was right now fast asleep in his cardboard box back on the Harrower.

For ten minutes the children ate and ate. The food was good, but definitely not a good as the food at the celebration and definitely not as good as the food at home. They ate savory pastries, small celery sticks with salmon mush, and bites of crispy bread with caviar ('I don't know why people think caviar is so luxurious,' said Chloe. 'It's just fish eggs. We eat fish eggs all the time'). They ate crab cakes, quiche, miniature egg rolls, and shrimp.

The peel of a bell reverberated round the lobby. The children had no clue what it meant, many of the younger children jumping with fright by its loud suddenness. And they all reacted as if they had done something wrong, touched something they shouldn't have, the bell being some sort of alarm. The podgy man chimed in. The show was about to start.

Up a formidable set of stairs was the entrance to the theatre and when the children entered they gulped in awe. Along with a ceiling so rich and vibrant with colors, were hundreds of seats adorned with gold, and a stage rising up like a tidal wave, ready to submerge, to unleash its power.

Taking their seats, Jennifer said, 'I know we're only here to watch Mr and Mrs Petersons' choir but the anticipation is giving me chills.'

'Do any of you know if Amanda's mom did any of her magic shows here?' asked Matthew, looking all around. He was next to the aisle.

'Oh, yeah,' said Slink, 'all the time. Tickets would sell out like that.' He had snapped his fingers.

'I bet those would have been wonderful to see,' said Matthew. He could almost see Amanda's mom on the stage doing death defying stunts and spectacular tricks. He wondered if Amanda would watch from backstage.

'Amanda could sell out this place, you know,' said Jennifer.

Sitting next to Matthew, John almost choked. 'You are joking.'

'She definitely could,' said Chloe.

'No way,' said John, adamant. 'You guys are all nuts. Seriously, you should get your heads ch – hey, Ramon.' His face had turned blank. 'Where did you get that from?'

Eight seats away, Ramon was munching away on popcorn oozing with butter, a bucketful in his lap. 'The concession stand. I asked Mr Peterson if I could make some and he said I could.'

'That's not fair . . . I didn't know we could do that. Can I have some?'

'Not a chance.'

The lights began to dim, and everyone who was chatting away, except for the children, went quiet.

'Oooooooo!' Matthew heard Ramon, mimicking a ghost, which got the rest of the children giggling. A voice through the dark, however, squashed that. 'Quiet please.'

A minute later the curtains opened, revealing the choir in the center of the stage, lights from above shining down on its members. Mr Peterson was on the right surrounded by ten other men and Mrs Peterson, whose cheeks were plastered with red makeup, was on the left surrounded by ten other women. In the shadows to the left, someone, their face obscured by the lack of light, was seated in front of a piano.

Suddenly, the curtains swiftly closed, and a few seconds after that, Mr Peterson popped his head out.

'Sorry about that,' Mr Peterson chuckled with embarrassment, 'the Doc's light seems to be malfunctioning. It was just working perfectly.' He briefly popped his head back in before reemerging. 'Here we go. I think we've sorted it out. Again, very sorry.' He popped his head back behind the curtains.

'That was awkward,' John whispered to Matthew. 'I bet the person in charge of the lights is going to get an earful after the show.'

The curtains soon opened again.

Matthew's gasp, as if he had been shot, rang throughout the theatre. Everyone turned to look at him.

John asked, 'What's wrong?'

'Is everything all right?' shouted Mr Peterson. He like the others on stage were squinting at the audience, trying but unable to see through the bright lights.

A man seated in front of Matthew asked gruffly, clearly annoyed, 'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' Matthew said to him. 'I'm truly sorry.'

The man turned around and shouted to Mr Peterson, 'We're all good.'

When the show had started, the music from the piano swirling all around, John asked, breathing softly in Matthew's ear, 'What in the heck was that all about?'

A big smile graced Matthew's face.

'What is it?'

'We found her.'

'Found who?

John was absolutely blown away with what Matthew said next. 'It's Mrs Grey.'

'Mrs Grey?' John panted nervously. 'Where?'

Matthew just pointed toward the piano.

'The Doc is Mrs Grey?' John couldn't take his eyes off the woman, her long blonde hair rustling back and forth with every movement of her arms.

It all suddenly came to Matthew. Doctor Alex Parker. Alex. Matthew had stared at that name every day at Bordash Manor, wondering who it belonged to. Could it be? Had it been her piano bench? He was positive.

Matthew's smile grew wider. 'The Doc is Mrs Grey.'

John beamed himself, then whispered the findings into Chloe's ear. Chloe was clearly stunned at the news but a smile soon sparkled. She then told Slink, who told Norman, who told Jennifer, and so on and so on, each child having the same reaction.

The children were all smiles.

To be continued . . .

End of Book One.

To the reader,

If you liked this story, please vote and tell your friends about it. And if it gets a lot of views and votes I'll start writing Book 2.