Narrator's Point of View Activity 2

Hadley sat at the big black piano and stared down at the keys. She felt her stomach flip like a fish. Eight bars to go before her solo started. Mr. Tanaka nodded once from the front row. Hadley wished she could disappear into the bench. She placed her fingers on the keys anyway.

Sable stood at the bus stop with her dented cauldron tucked under her arm. She felt nervous because today was her first day at monster school. Otis sat on the bench beside her tapping his shiny black shoes against the curb. He felt nervous too, but he tried to look bored so that she wouldn't notice. Sable wondered if vampires liked witches or only got along with them when they had to. Otis hoped the witch would say something first. The yellow school bus rolled around the corner.

So you want to travel through time? First, find a quiet closet to set up your time machine. Do not use the closet where your family stores the holiday decorations. If you do, you may end up in a strange land with ornaments in your hair. Next, pick a year that is not too far away. The year you were born is a safe bet. Strap into the chair and press the big red button. Hold on tight. Whatever you do, try not to land in the bathtub. This will short circuit the machine and you will have to learn the names of a lot of new leaders.

My headset beeped twice and Route 14 lit up on the screen. I gripped the joystick and lifted the delivery drone off the launch pad. The package was a hot pepperoni pizza for apartment 8B. I flew between two tall buildings, ducked under a clothesline, and dropped the box gently on the balcony. My boss said, "You did well for your first day, rookie."

Dax placed his volcano on the science fair table and felt sure it would win. He had used extra baking soda because he wanted a huge eruption. Beside him, Leena held her plant poster. She worried that her project looked too plain. Yet, she hoped the judges would value her good records. Dax poured vinegar into the crater. Foam shot upward and splattered Leena's poster. The explosion made Dax erupt with pride. Leena wished she could wilt away.

The library clock showed 9:01. Reyna walked down the dark center aisle with a small flashlight. Theo waited at the end of aisle twelve with a thick blue book under his arm. They met at the reference shelf. Reyna pulled a red book from her backpack and held it out. Theo handed her the blue book. They placed each book on its empty shelf space. Then they walked out through different doors.

You enter Level 4 with three hearts and a silver torch. Press B to swing your sword at the jellybats hanging from the ceiling. Do not touch the green crystals on the walls or they will steal one of your hearts. When you reach the red door, jump over the trap tile in front of it. Then open the chest behind the door to grab the gold key. The final boss is waiting in the next room.

I thought the ant farm would be an easy A for our science project. Then I saw the tiny ants carrying my pencil across the desk. My lab partner Keely whispered, "They have a plan." I wanted to laugh, but the ants were building a ramp to the classroom door. I grabbed my notebook and wrote the only title that made any sense for our project: Do Not Trust Ants.

Tink-9 rolled to the front of the spelling bee. Jalen stood beside the robot with a toolbox. The judge said, "Spell thunder." Tink-9 beeped three times and said, "T-H-U-N-D-E-R." A screw popped from its elbow. Jalen caught the screw in his hand. The crowd clapped.

Leona stood backstage with the cardboard crown in her hands. She felt heat in her cheeks. The crown belonged to the queen costume. She had borrowed it without asking. Ty pulled the curtain aside and said, "Your scene is next." Leona wished she could disappear behind the props. She placed the crown on her head and stepped into the lights.

Jun stirred the royal soup. He hoped it would taste normal and that the queen would like it. Then the pot hummed a tiny song. Queen Pavra lifted one eyebrow. Jun felt his face grow hot. He had followed the recipe to the letter, except for that glowing mushroom that he substituted. Then the soup sang louder. The queen's jaw dropped. Jun wished he had picked carrots instead.

When Ravi picked the golden apple from the old orchard, it whispered in his mother's voice. He felt a chill run up his arms. Aunt Sella held out her basket and said, "Only three more." Ravi stared at the apple. He knew he should drop it, but he wanted to hear the voice again. The apple whispered his name. Ravi stepped farther from the path.

I pressed the button for the third floor. To my surprise the elevator continued climbing until it reached floor 13. My school only had three floors. The doors opened to a hallway full of stars. I stepped out with my backpack still on one shoulder. A glowing sign said LOST HOMEWORK OFFICE. My heart was beating fast. I turned around and tried to retrace my steps. But the elevator doors had already closed and were sealed shut.

First, place your houseplant near the chore chart. Then, point to one easy job, like dusting a shelf. Do not start with dishes. Your plant has no hands and a bad attitude. If you notice one leaf reaching for the dust cloth, you should praise your plant for trying. If the plant throws dirt at you, it's time to take a break. That's enough for today. Try again tomorrow.

Niko placed the singing boots on the counter. He felt quite tired after a long, sleepless night. The boots had been singing under his bed and he could not figure out how to muffle them. Fern, the goblin clerk, thought the boots were working perfectly. She wanted to keep the sale of course. Likewise, Niko had had enough of the terrible boots and just hoped that Fern would give him his coins back. But Fern smiled and pointed to a sign that said NO REFUNDS AFTER MIDNIGHT.

We crawled across the kitchen floor on our stomachs. Mom was asleep on the couch. The giant submarine sandwich was still in the fridge. My brother Theo went first. I followed right behind him. Then the fridge door beeped. We froze. Mom shifted on the couch but did not wake up. Theo grabbed the sandwich. I grabbed two napkins. Then we crawled back to the hallway with our prize.

Cole sat at one end of the long table. Esme sat at the other. A judge placed a tall stack of pancakes in front of each of them. The bell rang. They began to eat. Cole used his fork. Esme used her hands. The crowd cheered then went silent. They both finished at the same moment and held up their empty plates.

The clock above the town hall struck twelve. Sheriff Yates stepped onto the porch with his right hand resting on the grip of his pistol. At the far end of Main Street, Della Briggs faced him with her hand on hers. They walked toward each other and stopped twenty paces apart in the sun-soaked dust.

Drew stood near the snack table and watched the dance floor. He felt his palms get sweaty. He wanted to ask Soledad to dance, but his feet would not move. Across the gym, Soledad stood by the bleachers. She felt nervous too. She was hoping Drew would walk over. Both of them stared at the same loose balloon drifting between them.

You crouch behind a metal fan and listen for the guards. Your night-vision goggles glow green. The vault is just past the next door. The map in your backpack tells you the security code is 7-4-2. You hear footsteps coming down the hall. You have only two choices. To hide in the air duct above you, turn to page 14. To run for the vault, turn to page 22.

Hadley sat at the big black piano and stared down at the keys. Her stomach flipped like a fish. Her hands felt cold even though the auditorium was warm. Eight bars to go before her solo started. Mr. Tanaka nodded once from the front row. Hadley wished she could disappear into the velvet bench and reappear in the parking lot. She placed her fingers on the keys instead and reminded herself that she had played this piece a hundred times in her bedroom.

Sable stood at the bus stop on Hollow Hill Road with her dented cauldron under one arm. Nerves gripped her. It was her first day at monster school. Otis sat beside her, tapping his shoes against the curb while trying to look bored. He hoped she would speak first. He had never been good at conversations that did not involve blood type. Sable wondered whether vampires usually liked witches or only tolerated them at school dances. The yellow bus rolled around the corner with one cracked headlight and a sign that read HOLLOW HILL ACADEMY.

So you want to travel through time? Wonderful. First, find a quiet closet to set up your time machine. Avoid the one where your family stores the holiday decorations or you may find yourself in a strange place with ornaments in your hair. Next, pick a year that is not too far away. The year you were born is a safe target. Then strap into the chair. Double-check your seatbelt. Then, press the big red button and hold on tight. Whatever you do, try not to land in the bathtub. The puddle will short out the gears, and you will have to learn the names of a lot of new leaders.

My headset beeped twice and Route 14 blinked onto the screen in pale blue. I tightened my grip on the joystick and eased the delivery drone off the launch pad on the rooftop of Skyway Express. The package was one large pepperoni pizza headed for apartment 8B on Birch Street. I steered between two glass towers, ducked the drone under a sagging clothesline, and lined up the drop. The pizza box landed on the balcony with a soft thunk. My boss's voice crackled in my ear. "You did well for your first day, rookie."

Dax set his paper-mache volcano on the science fair table and felt certain that victory was already bubbling inside it. He had doubled the baking soda because he wanted an eruption the judges would remember. At the next table, Leena straightened her plant growth poster. She worried that it looked boring beside Dax's mountain of red paint and cardboard smoke, yet she hoped the judges would value her rigorous recordkeeping. Dax poured vinegar into the crater and stepped back with a grin. He knew what was about to happen. Foam blasted upward, rolled down the sides, and splattered Leena's poster board. Dax felt proud until one red bubble landed on his shoe. Leena was steaming with frustration. She wished that Dax's volcano had remained dormant.

The library clock above the front desk showed 9:01. Reyna stepped down the dark center aisle with a small flashlight cupped in her palm. Theo waited at the end of aisle twelve, holding a thick blue book under one arm. They met by the reference shelf. A fluorescent tube flickered every few seconds. Reyna pulled a red book from her backpack and held it out. Theo slid the blue book into her hand. Each of them placed the new book onto an empty shelf space and lined the spine up to match the others. Without speaking, they turned and walked out through different doors of the library.

You enter Level 4 with three hearts and a silver torch. Keep pressing B to swing your sword at the jellybats hanging from the cavern ceiling until they disperse. Remember, two clean hits will take each one down. Do not touch the glowing green crystals along the walls. They will drain your hearts. When you reach the red door at the back of the cavern, jump over the trap tile in front of it. Open the chest behind the door to grab the gold key, then save your game at the blue flame. The final boss is waiting in the next room and you will want full hearts when you meet him.

I thought building an ant farm would get us an easy A on our science project. It looked good on the lab table: sand, sticks, ants... it seemed like a pretty complete list. Then I noticed three ants dragging my pencil across the desk like tiny furniture movers. My lab partner Keely leaned closer and whispered, "They have a plan." I tried to laugh, but the ants had already built a ramp from the pencil tray to the classroom floor. One of them stood on a pebble and waved both front legs. I opened my notebook and changed our project title to the only thing that made sense: Do Not Trust Ants.

Tink-9 rolled to the microphone at the front of the gym. Jalen followed beside the robot with a small red toolbox tucked under one arm. The judge leaned toward the word list and said, "Your word is thunder." Tink-9 beeped three times, lifted one metal claw, and said, "T-H-U-N-D-E-R." A screw shot from the robot's elbow and pinged against the microphone stand. Jalen caught the screw before it hit the floor. The judge marked the clipboard, and the crowd clapped from the bleachers.

Leona stood behind the stage curtain with the cardboard crown balanced in both hands. She felt heat rising in her cheeks as she looked at the gold paint flaking onto her fingers. The crown belonged with the queen costume. She had borrowed it from the drama closet without asking anyone. Ty pulled the curtain aside and said, "Your scene is next." Leona wished she could shrink small enough to hide inside the prop treasure chest. The audience murmured on the other side of the curtain. Leona placed the crown on her head, lifted her chin, and stepped into the lights.

Jun stirred the royal soup. He hoped it would taste normal. The recipe had called for carrots, onions, and one shiitake mushroom. But Jun could not find a shiitake mushroom, so he substituted a strange glowing one that he had found. Now the pot was humming a tiny song. Queen Pavra lifted one eyebrow. Jun felt heat rush into his face. He wanted to explain that soup could still be delicious even if it was singing. The pot hummed louder, then sang the first line of the kingdom's anthem. The queen's jaw dropped. Jun wished he had just made a carrot soup.

When Ravi picked a golden apple from the oldest tree in the orchard, it whispered in his mother's voice. He felt a chill travel up his spine. Aunt Sella stood at the end of the row with her basket open. "Only three more," she called. Ravi stared at the apple in his palm. He knew he should drop it before the orchard played another trick on him. Still, he wanted to hear the voice again, just once. The apple whispered his name, soft as a secret. Ravi stepped farther between the trees. The path behind him grew thin and gray.

I pressed the button for the third floor, but the elevator buzzed and climbed past every number on the panel. It climbed to floor 13. My school only had three floors. This felt like a pretty serious design problem to me. The doors slid open to a hallway filled with stars. A glowing sign at the end read LOST HOMEWORK OFFICE. I stepped out with my backpack hanging off one shoulder. I turned around and tried to retrace my steps. But the elevator doors had already closed behind me and now they were sealed shut.

To train your houseplant, begin with a simple task. Place the plant near your chore chart and point to something easy, such as dusting a shelf. Do not begin with dishes, laundry, or anything involving buttons. Your plant has no hands, and limited patience. If you notice a leaf reaching toward the dust cloth, offer praise in a calm voice. If the plant knocks over its pot and sprays dirt across the room, end the lesson for today. Try again tomorrow.

Niko placed the singing boots on the goblin market counter and pushed them toward Fern. He felt quite tired after a long, sleepless night due to the boots singing battle songs under his bed. Fern, the goblin clerk, believed the boots were working exactly as advertised. After all, the tag had clearly said MUSICAL FOOTWEAR. Niko had had enough of the terrible boots and just hoped Fern would return his coins before the boots started another chorus. Fern wanted to keep the sale, especially because she had already spent three coins on pickled moon onions. She smiled, tapped one green finger on the counter, and pointed to a crooked sign that said NO REFUNDS AFTER MIDNIGHT.

We crawled across the kitchen floor on our stomachs, one inch at a time, like soldiers in an old movie. Mom had fallen asleep on the couch with the TV still going. Our entire mission depended on her staying that way. The giant submarine sandwich was in the fridge, positioned for tomorrow's family lunch. My older brother Theo went first. I followed right behind him because somebody had to carry the napkins. Then the fridge door let out a tiny beep. We both froze. Mom shifted on the couch but did not open her eyes. Theo gently lifted the whole sandwich tray with both hands. I grabbed two paper plates and a stack of napkins from the counter. Then we crawled back to the hallway with our prize.

Cole sat at one end of the long picnic table. Esme sat at the other. A judge placed a tall stack of pancakes in front of each contestant, then poured a steady ribbon of syrup over both stacks. The bell rang to start the final round of the contest. Cole picked up his fork and began stacking pieces. Esme set her fork aside and ate with her hands. The crowd of families and farmers leaned over the rope line. The noise of the crowd grew until it went suddenly silent. Cole and Esme finished at the exact same moment. They held up their empty plates above their heads.

The clock above the town hall struck twelve. The bell rolled flat across the rooftops. Sheriff Yates stepped onto the porch of the jailhouse with his right hand resting on the grip of his pistol. At the far end of Main Street, Della Briggs pushed off a hitching post outside the saloon and faced him. On the flat roof of the general store, a thin lookout watched the street without moving. Yates and Briggs walked toward each other in slow, even strides, and stopped twenty paces apart in the empty road. Neither blinked.

Drew stood near the snack table and watched the dance floor. He was holding a fistful of pretzels that he had forgotten to eat. His palms were sweaty, and the song he had practiced his walk to was already halfway over. He wanted to ask Soledad to dance, but his sneakers felt glued to the gym floor. Across the gym, Soledad leaned against the bleachers and pretended to study a poster about school spirit. She felt every bit as nervous as Drew did, and she was secretly hoping Drew would just walk over and ask her. Both of them watched the same lonely balloon drift past the center of the floor.

You crouch behind a humming metal vent and listen for the guards. Your night-vision goggles glow green in the dark hallway. You hear heavy footsteps echoing down the marble corridor and the bright jingle of a key ring. You have two choices and time is running out. To hoist yourself into the air duct above your head, turn to page 14. To run down the hallway, turn to page 22.

Hadley sat at the polished black piano under the auditorium lights and stared at the keys. Her stomach flipped like a fish. Her hands had gone cold even though the room was warm enough to fog her glasses. Eight bars of string accompaniment remained before her solo. Everything would hinge on her left hand finding the right F key. Mr. Tanaka nodded from the front row. Hadley wished she could melt through the velvet bench and reappear in the parking lot beside her mother's car. Instead, she settled her fingers onto the keys and reminded herself that she had played this piece a hundred times in her bedroom while her cat watched. The only thing different this time was her audience.

Sable stood at the bus stop on Hollow Hill Road with her dented cauldron tucked under one arm. She felt nervous in a way she had not felt since her broomstick exam because today was her first day at monster school. Otis sat on the bench beside her, tapping his shiny black shoes against the curb in an even rhythm. He felt nervous too, but he tried hard to look bored so the witch would not notice. Sable wondered whether vampires usually liked witches or only tolerated them at school dances. Otis silently hoped the witch would speak first because he had never been good at starting conversations that did not involve blood type. The yellow school bus rolled around the corner with one cracked headlight and a sign that read HOLLOW HILL ACADEMY.

So you want to travel through time? Excellent. Before you do anything heroic, find a quiet closet to set up your time machine, and please avoid the one where your family stores the holiday decorations or you may arrive in a strange place with light strands and ornaments in your hair. Next, pick a destination year that is not too far from your own. The year you were born is a forgiving target. Now, strap into the chair, double-check the seatbelt, and press the big red button. Hold on tight. Above all else, try not to land in a bathtub. The puddle will short the gears, fuse the dial, and strand you in a century with unfamiliar coins. You have been warned.

My headset beeped twice and Route 14 lit the corner of my screen in pale blue. I tightened my grip on the joystick, eased the delivery drone off the launch pad, and watched the rooftop of Skyway Express shrink beneath the camera feed. The package was a single large pepperoni pizza for apartment 8B on Birch Street, which was between two glass towers that punished new pilots with rotor-bending wind. I cut my speed at the alley, ducked the drone under a sagging clothesline, and lined up the drop with two flicks of the wrist. The pizza box landed on the balcony with a thunk. My supervisor's voice crackled in my ear. "You did well for your first day, rookie. Now bring my drone home in one piece."

Dax set his paper-mache volcano at the center of the science fair table. He had doubled the baking soda, colored the vinegar blood red, and carved lightning bolts down the sides for the aesthetics. He felt pretty good about the project. Beside him, Leena aligned her plant growth poster and worried that twelve days of measurements looked dull beside a mountain built to explode. She hoped the judges would value her rigorous recordkeeping. Dax lifted the vinegar beaker and poured. Foam roared from the crater, surged over the table edge, and splattered her data chart. He felt victorious for one second. Leena stared at the red streaks on her graph and steamed. She wished his volcano had remained dormant.

The library clock above the empty front desk read 9:01. Reyna moved down the dark center aisle with a small flashlight cupped against her palm, the beam thinned to a coin of light on the carpet. Theo waited at the end of aisle twelve. A thick blue book was tucked under one of his elbows. They met by the reference shelf. A fluorescent tube flickered every few seconds. Reyna pulled a red book from her backpack and held it out across the gap. Theo slid the blue book into her open hand. Each of them stepped to a different shelf, set the new book into an empty slot, and lined the spine up neatly with the others. Without speaking, they turned and walked out through different doors at opposite ends of the library. The clock ticked. The flickering tube went still.

You enter Level 4 with three hearts and a silver torch. Rapidly press B to swing your sword at the jellybats hanging from the cavern ceiling until they disperse. Remember that it takes two clean hits to drop each one. Do not touch the glowing green crystals along the walls. They drain your hearts and they play cheerful music while killing you. When you reach the red door at the back of the cavern, jump over the trap tile in front of it. Open the chest behind the red door to retrieve the gold key, and then save your game at the blue flame in the alcove. The final boss is waiting in the next room and you will want full hearts when you finally meet him.

I had promised Keely that the ant farm would be a simple project. It looked simple enough: plastic box, clean sand, two sticks, and a colony of hardworking insects with no obvious political goals. We put this together and felt good about our project as it sat on the lab table, until I spotted six ants hauling my pencil in perfect formation. Keely leaned over my shoulder and whispered, "Tell me they are not organizing." I wanted to make a joke, but the ants had already constructed a ramp from the pencil tray to the floor and posted two guards beside it. One ant climbed onto a pebble, raised its front legs, and appeared to address the colony. I opened my notebook and wrote the only title that made any sense for our project: Do Not Trust Ants.

Tink-9 rolled across the gym floor and stopped at the microphone, its wheels squeaking against the polished wood. Jalen walked beside the robot with a red toolbox under one arm and a roll of silver tape hanging from his wrist. The judge adjusted her glasses, checked the word list, and said, "Your word is thunder." Tink-9 beeped three times, raised one claw, and said, "T-H-U-N-D-E-R," in a bright metallic voice. Halfway through the applause, a screw launched from the robot's elbow and struck the microphone stand with a ping. Jalen reached out and caught the screw before it bounced onto the floor. Tink-9 rotated its head toward him, flashed three green lights, and returned to its starting position. The judge marked her clipboard, and the crowd clapped again.

Leona stood backstage with the cardboard crown balanced in her hands, watching flecks of gold paint crumble onto her palms. She felt heat rise in her cheeks every time she looked at it. The crown belonged with the queen costume in the drama closet. Leona had borrowed it without asking. She thought the peasant hat for her actual role had looked completely ridiculous. But now the crown seemed brighter than a warning sign. Ty pulled the curtain aside and said, "Your scene is next." Leona wished she could fold herself into the prop treasure chest and remain there until graduation. Beyond the curtain, the audience shifted, coughed, and waited. She placed the crown on her head, lifted her chin the way queens did in old paintings, and stepped into the lights.

Jun stirred the soup and hoped, with increasing desperation, that it would behave like soup. The recipe had called for carrots, onions, river salt, and one shiitake mushroom. But Jun could not find a shiitake mushroom, so he substituted a strange glowing one that he had found shimmering in the moonlight. Now the pot was humming. Queen Pavra stood beside the marble counter, one eyebrow lifted high. Jun felt his face get hot as the hum became a melody. He wanted to explain that a soup could still be delicious even if it was singing. The pot bubbled twice, then sang the first line of the kingdom's anthem in a clear, steamy soprano. The queen's jaw dropped. Jun wished he had just made a carrot soup instead.

Ravi had never liked the eastern orchard. He thought that the trees leaned too close together and there was something suspicious about this. When Ravi picked a golden apple from the oldest tree in the orchard, it whispered in his mother's voice. A cold shiver traveled down his spine. Aunt Sella waited at the end of the row with her basket open. "Only three more," she called, tapping the rim with two fingers. Ravi stared at the apple. He knew he should throw it into the weeds before the orchard played another trick on him. Still, he wanted to hear the voice again. The apple whispered his name, soft as a secret kept too long. Ravi stepped between the trees. The path behind him narrowed into a ribbon of gray dust.

I pressed the button for the third floor, but the elevator buzzed and climbed past every number on the panel. It climbed to floor 13. The doors opened onto a hallway where stars glittered in place of ceiling tiles and lockers floated a few inches off the ground. At the far end, a glowing sign read LOST HOMEWORK OFFICE. I stepped out with my backpack sliding off one shoulder, suddenly aware that "the elevator ate my homework" was about to become either a perfect excuse or a very complicated truth. I turned around and tried to retrace my steps. But the elevator doors had already closed behind me and now they were sealed shut.

To train your houseplant, begin by choosing a task that respects the plant's natural limits. Dusting a low shelf is reasonable. Folding laundry is not. Place the plant beside your chore chart. Point to an easy task. Remember, you should speak clearly. Many houseplants pretend not to understand directions that sound inconvenient. Do not raise your voice if the plant droops, sheds a leaf, or knocks over its own pot in protest. Instead, reward any helpful movement with sunlight, water, and calm praise. If the plant flings dirt across the carpet, stop the lesson immediately. A houseplant can learn responsibility, but not while it is actively committing property damage.

Niko placed the singing boots on the counter and pushed them toward Fern with two careful fingers. He felt quite tired after a long, sleepless night due to the boots singing battle songs in perfect harmony. Fern, the goblin clerk, believed the boots were working exactly as advertised and that customers should read tags before handing over coins. The label had clearly said MUSICAL FOOTWEAR, which, in her opinion, covered every legal complaint Niko could possibly make. Niko had had enough of the terrible boots and just hoped Fern would return his coins before he had to tolerate another battle hymn. Of course, Fern wanted to keep the sale, partly on principle and partly because she had already spent three of the coins on pickled moon onions. She smiled with her six pointed teeth, tapped one green finger against the counter, and pointed to a crooked sign that said NO REFUNDS AFTER MIDNIGHT.

We crawled across the kitchen floor on our stomachs, one slow inch at a time, like soldiers in an old movie. Mom had fallen asleep on the living room couch with the TV still murmuring through the late news. The success of our mission depended on her staying that way until we made it back to the hallway. Our target was the enormous submarine sandwich she had hidden in the bottom drawer of the fridge for tomorrow's family lunch. My older brother Theo went first across the linoleum. I followed close behind him, because somebody had to be in charge of carrying the napkins. The fridge door let out a tiny, traitorous beep. We both froze. Mom shifted on the couch and mumbled something about the weather, but her eyes never opened. Theo lifted the entire sandwich tray with both hands. I grabbed two paper plates and a thick stack of napkins from the counter. Then we crawled back to the hallway with our prize.

Cole sat at one end of the long picnic table beneath the red and white awning of the fairground tent. Esme sat at the other. A judge in a striped apron carried a tall stack of pancakes to each contestant. Then she poured a steady ribbon of syrup over both stacks until the plates threatened to overflow. The bell rang to begin the final round of the contest. Cole picked up his fork and began slicing the stack into neat brown wedges. Esme pushed her fork aside and ate with her hands. The crowd of families and farmers leaned over the rope line. The crowd noise grew into a crescendo and then went suddenly silent. Cole and Esme finished at the exact same instant. They held up their empty plates above their heads.

The clock above the town hall struck twelve. The bell rolled flat across the clay brick rooftops. Sheriff Yates stepped onto the porch of the jailhouse with his right hand resting on the grip of his pistol. At the far end of Main Street, Della Briggs pushed off the hitching post outside the saloon and faced him. On the flat roof of the general store, a thin lookout in a black vest watched the street without moving, a rifle balanced across his knees. Yates and Briggs walked toward each other in slow, even strides and stopped twenty paces apart in the sun-soaked road. Neither one blinked. A single bead of sweat slid from the brim of the sheriff's hat down the side of his jaw.

Drew stood near the snack table. He was holding a fistful of pretzels that he had forgotten to eat and staring across the dance floor through the bobbing heads of his classmates. His palms were sweating. The song he had specifically practiced his walk to was already halfway over. He wanted to ask Soledad to dance, but his sneakers felt like they were welded to the gym floor. Across the gym, Soledad leaned against the bleachers and pretended to read the spirit week poster. She felt every bit as nervous as Drew. She was secretly hoping he would walk over and ask her. Both of them, without realizing it, gazed at the same lonely balloon drifting across the center of the floor between them.

You crouch behind the intake vent and listen for the guards. Your night-vision goggles paint the marble corridor in shades of glowing green. The briefing in your backpack tells you the vault sits exactly forty-two paces past the next door. The door code is 7-4-2. You have read it so many times on the train ride down here that the numbers feel like a song. Footsteps echo at the far end of the hall, slow and heavy, with the jingle of a guard's key ring. You have two choices and somewhere around ten seconds to commit to one. To hoist yourself silently into the air duct above your head, turn to page 14. To break for the vault, enter the code, and pray that the briefing is right, turn to page 22.