“I need the necklace back.” The man looked at me nervously.
“What necklace?” I was considering shutting the door in his face.
“The one I sold to you about a year ago.” The man’s eye twitched and he fumbled with his fingers.
“What? I never bought a necklace a year ago.” I looked at the man like he was crazy.
“I know you have it! It was blue. I can’t remember what you called it. Oh, let’s see, what was it? Rainy Day Blue? No, no, that’s not right.” The man mumbled furiously to himself as if I weren’t there.
“Thunder Blue? No, that’s not quite right. Boted Blue? No. Lightning Blue? I can’t remember! Help me out here!”
“Lightning Bolt Blue?” I offered curiously.
“Yes, that’s right! I need it!” The man looked eagerly at me.
“Well, I don’t really use it much…” I said.
“Okay then that works just fine. Hand it over.” The man said impatiently.
“But you don’t even want it!”
“It’s the last memor y of my best friend, and I’m keeping it.” And with that, I slammed the door in his face, leaving him begging outside on the porch.
“Who was that?” My mother came quickly out from the office where she had been clacking away on her computer.
“I don’t know, some man who wants my necklace.”
“You don’t have a necklace.”
“Exactly. Hopefully you’re as confused as I am?” I asked my mother.
“Who was he?” She asked, ignoring my comment.
“Oh, I forgot to ask.” I said. But glancing over at our front door again, he was still wating outside. The telephone rang in the kitchen and my mother hurried to answer it. I pulled open the door.
“What do you want?” I asked in my best irritated tone that I had learned from Ms. Reynolds.
“Your necklace. You don’t understand. It’s very dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands.”
“It wasn’t a necklace! It was a PEN!” I cried out, exasperated.
“Oh? Did I say necklace? I must’ve forgotten. Let’s see, what century is it now?” The man murmured anxiously. I was becoming confused.
“It’s the 21st century. And why?” I demanded.
“I must explain about your necklace—or perhaps, your pen.”
“Why is it so dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands? And what are you talking about anyway? Why do you want my pen?” I asked.