FIRE & FLOOD Extras

Chapter Two

I snap my head from side to side, searching for someone in my room. But of course no one's there. Then I realize what's going on. Mom and Dad know how hard this relocation has been on me, and now they're trying to buy my happiness. Or at least a break from my complaining.

Am I really this easy?

Please. They could have tied little blue boxes to the back of the moving truck and I would have chased after them until my feet bled.

I fly across my room and leap onto the bed, a smile spread across my face. I've spent these last nine months with no Internet or cell phone, and right now I feel like a wild dog eyeing its prey.

Holding the box to my lips, I tell it, "You're mine, precious. All mine."

I'm about to tear in when I stop myself. This moment of wondering what's inside will be over so quickly. And once it's finished, I'll have nothing to anticipate. Perhaps I should postpone gratification, hold off until I can't stand it any longer. I could be happy for days just knowing I have something to look forward to.

I pull the box away from my lips and give it a small shake.

Put the box down, Tella, I tell myself.

"Screw that," I say out loud.

I close my hand around the lid and pull it off. Inside is a tiny pillow. I imagine all sorts of miniature animals using it in their miniature beds. But that's dumb, because how would they ever find a pillow case to fit?

My fingers pinch the pillow, and when I lift it up, I'm surprised by what I see sleeping beneath it. Flicking the pillow onto my bed, I reach into the box and grab the small, stark white device. It's no longer than a nickel, and curves in all sorts of funky ways. It looks . . . it looks like a hearing aid.

My nose scrunches up as I turn the device over in my hand. Then I nearly squeal with excitement when I see a red blinking light on the other side. Blinking lights are cool, I decide. They indicate technology and advancement and maybe a connection to the outside world — to my friends. Or maybe it's music. Who knows what wild shiznit they've come out with in the last year? I bet this baby holds, like, a billion songs. And I'm going to listen to them. Every. Single. One.

Vowing to give a solid, halfhearted apology to my parents and hoping I'm about to hear Lady Gaga's latest, I stick the device into my ear. Hallelujah, it fits! I couldn't be happier if my Boston boy toy just gave me diamonds.

I fumble for a second before my fingers land on the red, blinking button. Annnnnd . . . give it to me, baby.

Once I've pushed the button, I hear a clicking noise. The sound goes on for several seconds. Long enough that I start to feel all kinds of devastated. But then the clicking turns to static, like someone on the other side of a radio is tuning in.

Jumping from the bed, I walk around the room, tilting my head like I'm searching for a signal. I feel like a moron, and it's the most fun I've had in forever. I shoot straight up when I hear a woman's voice. It's a clear, crisp sound. Like this lady has never mispronounced a word in her entire life. My eyes fall to the floor in concentration. And I listen.

"If you're hearing this message, you are invited to be a Contender in the Brimstone Bleed. All Contenders must report within forty-eight hours to select their Pandora companions. If you do not —"

"Tella?" my dad asks. "What are you doing?"

I spin around and do a little happy dance. "What is this thing?" I point to the device in my ear. "Where did you guys get it? Because it's fan-friggin'-tastic."