Good Enough

Chapter 28- Mystery.

My mom has a guilty expression on her face, mixed with amusement. Her eyes have a hint of mischievous in them, her lips curving up into a cheeky grin.

"I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself", she says as she shrugs her shoulders; placing a piece of paper in my hand and scurrying off towards the stairs, making her way over to her bedroom. 

What the Jalapeños?

"Mom! Wait!" I shout as I run up the stairs, chasing after my mom. I reach her bedroom door, but it's too late. She rapidly sprints inside her room, and closes the door behind her powerfully; locking it behind her.

"Mom!" I whine childishly.

My mom laughs loudly, her voice a little muffled because of the door. "Read the note, Natasha." She says amusedly, and then I hear her retreating steps moving away from the door.

Great.

I look down at the crumpled note in my palm, confusion taking over me. Being extremely careful not to rip it,  I open up the crumpled piece of paper, to find some words written onto it in fancy handwriting. I squint my eyes; attempting to read it.

There's the light from the ceiling. The light from the sun. But there's no light, that can shine as bright as you.
Find it.

What? Is that supposed to be some sort of riddle?

I shut my eyes tightly, concentrating intensely; trying to find an answer.

Light.

C'mon.

What light?

Wha-

"Aha!" I shout victoriously as a lightbulb appears in my brain, showing me the answer to the riddle.

Turning on my heel, I jog over to my bedroom across the corridor; unlocking the door as I run inside. I hurriedly sprint over to my lampshade located on my bedside table; fiddling around with it as I reach it.

I look around to see if there is anything there. Lifting it up; I see another note sitting underneath.

That little cheeky weiner.

I speedily grab the piece of paper, and start to open it gently. Excitement bubbles up inside of me as the paper is nearly unfolded.

I always did like treasure hunts.

As I undo the last fold, some more neat handwriting comes into view.

Roses are red. Violets are blue. Daffodils are yellow. And these are just gardening facts.
Locate them.

I tap my fingers against my chin; staring into space as I think of the answer.

Gardening.

Flowers.

Facts.

Bingo.

Rushing out of my bedroom, I rapidly run down the staircase, and make my way over to the book cabinet in the living room.

Panting heavily, I skim through the books until I find the one I am looking for. Five minutes and a shitload of books later, I find the right one. My mom's book of gardening facts.