Narrator's Point of View Activity 4

We hit the solid rock right after lunch. I gripped the controls of the digger machine. The whole cabin shook and made my teeth rattle. My co-pilot, Harper, pointed at the glowing map on the screen. "Look at that!" she yelled. I stared at the bright blue shape on the radar. We had finally found the hidden underground ocean.

Tessa held up a small glass bird and pointed at the crowd. "Five dollars," she said. Mr. Polk raised his paddle. "Five," Tessa said. "Do I hear six?" No one moved. Mr. Polk smiled. Tessa raised her gavel. A woman in a red coat at the back lifted her paddle. "Six," Tessa said. Mr. Polk's smile dropped. He lowered his hand and crossed his arms. "Going once," Tessa said. "Going twice..." Mr. Polk stood up and walked out of the tent without his hat. "Sold!" announced Tessa, striking the gavel on the auction block.

Vorra sat on a marble bench at the edge of Mount Olympus. She was divinely bored. As the goddess of small rainstorms, she had been without duties for much of the summer. Across the courtyard, Tigon sat on a low cloud. His boredom mirrored Vorra's. Tigon was one of the newer gods. He was the god of socks that vanish in the dryer. Recently, people had been keeping better track of their laundry. Vorra glanced over and decided to make a tiny rainstorm on Tigon's cloud. Tigon glanced over and decided to steal one of Vorra's sandals. This exchange amused them both.

I pulled the tiger mascot head over my face. It smelled like crayons and old socks. Coach Ramos shouted, "You are up!" I ran through the gym doors, but I could only see a blurry stripe of light. When I waved at the crowd, my giant paw smacked the principal's hat into the band.

Omyra found a tiny knight standing in her cereal bowl. He was smaller than a grape and carried a toothpick sword. Omyra felt sure she was still dreaming. The knight bowed and said, "I require a horse." Omyra looked at her hamster running around his wheel and an idea popped into her head. Perhaps she could give the tiny knight a worthy steed. She lifted him onto a spoon and carried him across the table.

The first thing that you are going to want to do is to wait until your parents are in a good mood. Do not approach them while they are grumpy. But, if they do look peaceful, pretend like you are reading a book. Then, look up from your book and say you have a small request. Speak softly. Do not start with "Why is bedtime so early?" because that sounds like a complaint. Instead, ask if you can earn ten extra minutes by reading. Most parents love reading. Smile politely. Then go brush your teeth, even before they tell you to. This is how you will close the deal.

Margo crawled through the air vent above the science lab. She hoped the metal would not creak under her knees. Below her, Dr. Bramble poured green liquid into a silver bowl. He laughed and shouted, "Behold, the breakfast of tomorrow!" Margo's mouth went dry. She had come to rescue the missing class hamster, not watch a man prepare a glowing bowl of cereal. Then a tiny squeak came from the freezer.

Aria stood at the altar and held Jonas's hands. She was nervous because everyone was watching. Jonas was nervous too, but for a different reason. He worried that his voice would crack when he spoke. Aria wondered what marriage would mean for her life. This, she would learn later. Jonas considered if he was really ready to give his life to Aria. Then Aria squeezed his fingers and Jonas squeezed back. Both of them steadied and felt secure.

Congratulations on your new emotional support potato! You should keep your potato in a safe place, like your desk or backpack pocket. Do not leave it near hungry friends. Give your potato a name. It may not show it, but it appreciates your kindness. When you feel nervous, hold the potato and take three slow breaths. Your potato will be there to support you. If the potato begins to grow arms, do not panic. Those are like its arms. You may accept its hugs if you so choose.

Salvio sat on a stone bench in his cell. A small slot at the bottom of the iron door slid open. A wooden tray pushed through and clattered onto the floor. "Bread and stew," called Officer Berta from the corridor. Salvio stood and walked over to the tray. He picked up the wooden spoon and tasted the stew. "Cold," he said. "Always," said Berta. Salvio sat down on the floor and started to eat. Officer Berta slid the slot shut.

When you enter the lobby, press A to whisper to the librarian at the front desk. She will hand you a list of three books. The first book is on shelf JR-558. You need to walk slowly here, even though the hallway is long. If you run, security will send you back to the start of the level. When you reach shelf JR-558, tap B to slide the book out. Now you can begin reading!

Britney stood on the gym mat while Captain Lin showed her the final pose. Britney felt a strange tingling in her arms. Oh no, she thought, it's happening again. Captain Lin frowned and wondered why Britney's eyes looked so bright. "Hold your form," Captain Lin said. She continued scanning Britney trying to figure out what was happening to her. Britney felt fur push through her sleeves. Then she felt her face begin to change. Captain Lin was worried now but kept clapping and counting, "Five, six, seven, eight!"

We sat in the school bus for three hours. We were supposed to be at the dinosaur museum. Our bus driver, Mr. Cobb, had taken the wrong exit twice already. I looked out the window at a field of cows. My friend Courtney looked at the cows too. "Are we lost?" she asked. I shrugged. Mr. Cobb said we were on a "scenic detour." I did not believe him. The cows stared back at me. I waved.

Morgan the witch stirred the bubbling stew and dropped in a newt eye. She felt certain that one was enough. Across the fire, Wizard Bixby frowned. He believed a proper stew needed two newt eyes or the magic would come out weak. Morgan thought Bixby was showing off. He had been trying to boss her around ever since he got that big sparkly hat. Likewise, Bixby thought Morgan was just being stubborn. He felt like she had become quite the know-it-all after winning that potion contest. A puff of green smoke rose from the stew.

Secret Agent Bruce Klondike sat tied to a metal chair in a cold gray room. The Baron stood by the door with both hands behind his back. Bruce Klondike kept his face still, but his mind was racing. He felt the tip of a tiny lockpick hidden behind his belt buckle. His plan came together. Meanwhile, the Baron smiled and said, "You will tell me everything." Agent Klondike nodded slowly. He was already counting the seconds until the Baron turned his back.

Pam walked through the sliding doors of the furniture store. A man in a wide red tie hurried over. "Welcome! I am Donny." Pam nodded and walked toward a row of recliners. Donny followed her. "That one rocks AND swivels," he said. "Real leather. Two cup holders." Pam pressed the cushion with her hand. "It's not furniture," Donny said. "It is a lifestyle with cushions." Pam narrowed her eyes. "How much?" she asked. Donny grinned. "For you, today only, five hundred." Pam straightened up. "I will think about it." Donny pulled a card from his pocket. "Take this. Just in case." Pam slid the card into her purse.

I crouched in front of the old chrome toaster on the kitchen counter. I tightened the small screw on the side with my pocket tool. The toaster clicked. I leaned in close because I was sure it was trying to speak to me. "What did you say, friend?" The toaster's coils glowed bright orange. I nodded slowly. "I understand," I whispered. The toaster dinged once. I think I understood what he meant. Then I wrote down everything it had told me in my notebook. This would surely come in useful later.

You stand on a steel girder high above the city. The wind pushes at your coat. Across from you, the masked knight raises a silver sword. The girder swings from a crane and creaks under your boots. You have two choices. If you decided to charge forward and face the masked knight, turn to page 18. If you'd rather grab the hanging chain and swing to the next building, turn to page 42.

Mr. Bello swept popcorn bags and sticky cups from the path outside the monkey house. He already felt tired and lunch was hours away. Then he saw a boy drop a candy wrapper near the trash can and run away. Mr. Bello looked through the fence at the lemurs sitting in a neat row. He thought the animals were cleaner than the people who came to stare at them. He sighed and pushed the broom forward.

Mrs. Noble knelt in the garden beside a row of tomato plants. She pinched a yellow leaf from one stem and dropped it into a bucket. A beetle crawled across a tomato. Mrs. Noble lifted the beetle with a popsicle stick and placed it on the far side of the fence. "Not today," she said. She poured water around the roots and moved to the next plant.

We struck the dense granite layer right after lunch. I gripped the heavy controls of the subterranean drill, trying to keep us steady. The entire cabin shook so violently that my teeth rattled together. My co-pilot, Harper, pointed frantically at the glowing sonar map on the dashboard. "Look at that reading!" she yelled over the engine roar. I stared at the massive, bright blue shape expanding on the radar screen. We had finally discovered the hidden underground ocean.

Tessa stood on the small wooden riser at the front of the auction tent and held up a glass bird the size of her hand. "Do I hear five dollars?" she called. Mr. Polk, in the front row, lifted his numbered bidding paddle above his head. "Five," Tessa said. "Do I hear six?" The room went quiet. Mr. Polk smiled with one side of his mouth. Tessa raised her wooden gavel. A woman in a red coat at the back of the tent lifted her paddle. "Six," Tessa said. Mr. Polk's smile dropped. He lowered his hand and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "Seven?" Tessa asked. Mr. Polk did not move. "Going once," Tessa said. "Going twice. Sold to the lady in the red coat." Mr. Polk pushed back his chair, jammed his hat under his arm, and walked out of the tent.

Vorra sat on a marble bench at the edge of Mount Olympus and stared at the clouds without much enthusiasm. Boredom hung on her like a wet cape. She was divinely bored. As the goddess of small rainstorms, she had been without duties for much of the summer. Across the marble courtyard, Tigon dangled his feet over a low cloud. His boredom mirrored Vorra's. Tigon was one of the newer gods, the god of socks that vanish in the dryer, but he had not earned a single new offering in weeks. Recently, people had been keeping better track of their laundry. Vorra glanced over and decided to make a tiny rainstorm on Tigon's cloud. Tigon glanced over and decided to steal one of Vorra's sandals. This exchange amused them both.

I had begged to wear the tiger mascot suit for spirit day, which was funny because now I understood why nobody else had volunteered. The head smelled like crayons and old socks. Coach Ramos pointed toward the gym doors and shouted, "You are up!" I charged through the entrance while the band blasted the fight song. The eye holes were so blurry that I could only see a thin stripe of light. I waved both paws at the crowd and then tripped over the tail, knocking the principal's hat into the trumpet section.

Omyra found a tiny knight standing in the middle of her cereal bowl amid the sugary depths and floating oat rings. He was smaller than a grape and carried a toothpick sword. Omyra felt certain that she was still dreaming. The knight bowed deeply and said, "G'day, milady! I will require a horse to begin my service." Omyra glanced across the kitchen at her hamster running around his wheel and an idea popped into her head. Perhaps she could give the tiny knight a worthy steed. She lifted him onto a spoon and carried him across the table.

The first thing that you are going to want to do is to wait until your parents are in a good mood. Do not approach them while they are grumpy. But, if they do look peaceful, pretend like you are reading a book. Then, look up from your book and say you have a small request. Keep your voice calm and your eyebrows neutral. Parents can detect drama from across the house. Do not start with "Why is bedtime so early?" since that sounds like you are complaining. Instead, ask if you can earn ten extra minutes by reading in bed. Most parents love seeing their children read. Smile politely, thank them for considering it, and walk away. This is how you will close the deal.

Margo crawled through the narrow air vent above Laboratory 9 and tried not to breathe too loudly. She hoped the metal panel under her knees would hold. Below her, Dr. Bramble danced between tables covered in wires, beakers, and assorted science gear. He poured green liquid into a silver bowl and shouted, "Behold, the breakfast of tomorrow!" Margo's mouth went dry. She had come to rescue the missing class hamster, not watch a man prepare a glowing bowl of cereal. Dr. Bramble sprinkled blue powder into the bowl, and the mixture began to hum. Then a tiny squeak came from the freezer door. Margo knew that now was her chance to make her move.

Aria stood at the altar and held Jonas's hands while the room waited. She was nervous because every face in the chapel seemed to be turned toward her. Jonas was nervous too, but he was mostly worried that his voice would crack. Aria wondered what marriage would mean for her life. This, she would learn later. Jonas considered seriously whether he was really ready to give his life to Aria. Marriage is no joke, he thought to himself. Aria looked down and saw the tiny ink smudge on Jonas's thumb. She remembered that he had written and rewritten his vows and she knew. Jonas saw her smile and his fear loosened. Then the question came and they both knew the answer.

Congratulations on receiving your new emotional support potato! First, give your potato a name. It may not show it, but it appreciates your kind and considerate treatment. Next, place your potato somewhere safe, like your desk, locker shelf, or front pocket. Do not leave it near hungry friends or around sour cream containers. When you feel nervous, hold the potato in both hands and take three slow breaths. Remember, your potato will not solve your problems for you, but it will be there to support you while you solve your problems by yourself. If tiny sprouts begin to grow from the potato, do not panic. Those are like its arms. You may accept hugs from your emotional support potato if you so choose.

Salvio sat on a stone bench at the back of his cell with his elbows resting on his knees. A small slot at the bottom of the iron door slid open with a metal scrape. A wooden tray pushed through and clattered onto the floor. "Bread and stew," called Officer Berta from the corridor. Salvio stood gradually and walked over to the tray. He picked up the bent wooden spoon and tasted the broth. "Cold," he muttered. "Always," said Berta. Salvio carried the tray back to the stone bench and sat down with it balanced on his lap. He tore off a piece of bread and chewed slowly. Officer Berta slid the slot shut, and her boots clicked away down the corridor.

When you enter the lobby of the public library, press A to whisper to the librarian at the front desk. She will hand you a list of three books and remind you that there is no running in the aisles. The first book is on shelf JR-558. Walk slowly down aisle 9, even though the hallway is long. If you run, security will send you back to the start of the level. When you reach the shelf JR-558, tap B to slide the book out. Now you can begin reading this rare reference text!

Britney stood at the center of the gym while Captain Lin demonstrated the final pose. Britney felt a strange tingling feeling in her arms. Oh no, she thought. Not now. Not on competition week. Captain Lin frowned and tilted her head. She was wondering why Britney's eyes had seemed so bright. "Hold your form," Captain Lin said, lifting Britney's elbow to the correct angle. Britney felt coarse fur push through the sleeves of her practice shirt. She felt the seams beginning to stretch. Then she felt her face begin to change. Captain Lin was increasingly concerned but struggled to not show it. She kept clapping and counting, "Five, six, seven, eight!"

We had been on the school bus for three full hours. We were supposed to be at the natural history museum by now. Instead, our bus driver, Mr. Cobb, had taken the wrong exit off the highway twice. I pressed my forehead against the warm window and watched us roll by a field of cows at thirty miles an hour. My friend Courtney leaned across the aisle. "Are we lost?" she whispered. I shrugged and said, "It sure does seem like it." Mr. Cobb cleared his throat over the speaker and informed us that we were on a "scenic detour" to enrich our learning experience. This explanation seemed dubious to me. I stared at the cows and they stared back at me.

Morgan the witch stirred the cauldron and dropped one newt eye into the glowing stew. She felt perfectly satisfied with this mixture. One newt eye gave the stew shine and flavor while balancing the effect. Across the fire, Wizard Bixby folded his arms inside his purple sleeves. He believed any decent spell-stew required two newt eyes. He thought Morgan should know better after three hundred years of cooking near graveyards. Morgan thought Bixby only wanted to add another eye because he liked hearing himself give advice. He had been trying to boss her around ever since he got that big sparkly hat. Likewise, Bixby thought Morgan was just being stubborn. He felt like she had become quite the know-it-all after winning that potion contest. The cauldron bubbled twice and a puff of green smoke rose from the surface.

Secret Agent Bruce Klondike sat tied to a metal chair in a cold gray room with a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. The Baron stood by the door with both hands behind his back. Agent Klondike kept his face still and his eyes calm, but his mind was racing. He could feel the tip of a tiny lockpick hidden behind his belt buckle. A plan began to form in his mind. The Baron smiled and said, "You will tell me everything, Agent Klondike." Bruce Klondike nodded slowly, as if he was already considering it, but he was just counting the seconds until the Baron turned his back.

Pam walked through the sliding doors of Davenport's Furniture and paused in the front aisle. A man in a wide red tie hurried over from the register and stuck out his hand. "Welcome to Davenport's! I am Donny." Pam shook his hand once and walked toward a long row of recliners along the back wall. Donny followed two steps behind. "Now that one right there rocks AND swivels," he said. "Imported leather. Two genuine cup holders. Built like a tank." Pam pressed the cushion with the flat of her hand. "It's not furniture," Donny said. "It is a lifestyle with cushions." Pam narrowed her eyes. "How much?" she asked. Donny grinned and clasped his hands together. "For you, today only, I can ask the manager about five hundred. I would say five fifty otherwise." Pam straightened up. "I will think about it." Donny pulled a business card from his shirt pocket. "Take this anyway. Just in case." Pam slid the card into her purse.

I crouched in front of the old chrome toaster on the kitchen counter and tightened the small screw on the side with my pocket tool. The toaster clicked twice. The lever began to lower on its own. I leaned in close because I was sure it was trying to speak to me. "What did you say, friend?" I whispered. The toaster's coils glowed bright orange. Surely this was a sign. I nodded slowly and wrote down what I thought it was trying to communicate. "I understand," I said. The toaster dinged once, loud and clear. I continued writing down the messages that it was sending me in careful letters, one word per line.

You stand on a steel girder hanging from a crane high above the city. The street below looks thin and distant through the mist. Across from you, the masked knight raises a curved sword and steps forward. The girder swings under your boots. You tighten your grip on your own blade and glance at the chain dangling just to your right. The knight says, "No running this time, kid." The wind pulls at your coat and the crane cable twangs overhead. You have only a few seconds to choose. If you decided to charge forward and face the masked knight in a final duel, turn to page 18. If you'd rather grab the hanging chain and swing to the next building, turn to page 42.

Mr. Bello swept popcorn bags, napkins, and sticky drink cups from the path outside the monkey house. He already felt tired and lunch was hours away. Then he saw a boy toss a candy wrapper toward the trash can, miss, and keep walking. Mr. Bello shook his head in disgust and picked up the wrapper. He could see the lemurs sitting in a neat row through the fence. Mr. Bello thought some of the animals were cleaner than some of the people who came to stare at them. He sighed and pushed the broom forward.

Mrs. Noble knelt in the garden beside a row of tomato plants. She pinched a yellow leaf from one stem and dropped it into a white bucket. A beetle crawled across a green tomato. Mrs. Noble lifted it with the flat end of a popsicle stick and placed it on the far side of the fence. "Not today, little bandit," she said. She pushed soil around the base of the plant, poured water near the roots, and moved down the row.

We slammed into the granite shelf immediately following lunch. I white-knuckled the heavy controls of the subterranean excavator, fighting the machine's desperate urge to veer off course. The reinforced cabin vibrated with such violent intensity that I worried the bolts might break. My co-pilot, Harper, jabbed a gloved finger at the glowing sonar on the central monitor. "Look at that thermal reading!" she shouted over the deafening mechanical roar. I stared at the sprawling blue mass dominating the radar screen. Against all odds, we had successfully located the subterranean ocean.

Tessa stood on a small wooden riser at the front of the auction tent and lifted a glass bird the size of her palm into the afternoon light. "Do I hear five dollars?" she asked. Mr. Polk, in the front row, raised his bidding paddle without looking up from the program in his lap. "Five," Tessa confirmed. "Do I hear six?" The tent went quiet and the canvas walls flapped audibly in the breeze. Mr. Polk smiled with one side of his mouth and tapped his paddle against his knee. Tessa raised the small wooden gavel and waited. A woman in a red coat at the back of the tent lifted her number above her head. "Six," Tessa called. Mr. Polk's smile dropped. He lowered his paddle to his lap and folded his arms tightly across his chest. "Seven?" Tessa asked, looking from Mr. Polk to the woman in red. Mr. Polk did not move a finger. "Going once," Tessa said. "Going twice. Sold to the lady in the red coat." Mr. Polk pushed back his folding chair, crumpled his hat under one arm, and walked out of the tent.

Vorra sat on a marble bench at the edge of Mount Olympus and stared out at the clouds without much enthusiasm. Boredom hung on her shoulders like a wet cape, heavy and impossible to shrug off. She was divinely bored. As the goddess of small rainstorms, she had been without duties for much of the summer. Across the wide courtyard, Tigon dangled his bare feet over a low cloud. His boredom mirrored Vorra's. Tigon was one of the newer gods, the god of socks that vanish forever in the dryer. But he had not been honored with a single new offering in weeks, as it seemed that the mortals had been keeping better track of their laundry. Vorra glanced over and decided to make a tiny rainstorm on Tigon's cloud. Tigon glanced over and decided to steal one of Vorra's sandals. This exchange amused them both.

I had begged to wear the tiger mascot suit for spirit day, which was funny because now I understood why nobody else had volunteered. The inside smelled like crayons and old socks with a hint of wet dog. Coach Ramos slapped the mascot shoulder and shouted, "You are up!" The band crashed into the fight song, the gym doors flew open, and I charged into a wall of noise. The eye holes were so blurry that all I could see was a thin stripe of light. I lifted both paws, tried to spin, stepped on the tail, and staggered sideways into the principal, which sent his hat sailing into the trumpet section.

Omyra discovered the tiny knight standing in the center of her cereal bowl amid the sugary depths and floating oat rings. He was smaller than a grape, armored in bits of foil, and carrying a toothpick sword that looked recently sharpened. Omyra felt certain she was still dreaming. The knight bowed with grave ceremony and said, "G'day, milady! I will require a horse to begin my service." Omyra looked toward the hamster cage on the counter, where Sir Pudding sat inside his wheel with both cheeks full and an idea popped into her head. Perhaps she could give the tiny knight a worthy steed. Omyra slid a spoon beneath his boots and carried him across the table while he held his sword upright like a flag.

The first thing that you are going to want to do is to wait until your parents are in a genuinely good mood, which usually means coffee in hand, laughter from a movie, or any sentence that begins with "you know what was funny today." That is your window. Pretend like you are reading a book. Then, look up from this book, War and Peace, or whatever light reading material you may have picked up, and say that you have a small request. Keep your eyebrows neutral. Parents can detect drama from across the house. Don't launch with "Why is bedtime so early?" since that is a complaint dressed as a question, and they will treat it accordingly. Instead, ask if you can earn ten extra minutes by reading in bed. Most parents love seeing their children read. They will picture you turning into a future scholar and they will agree. Smile politely, thank them for considering it, and walk away before they notice anything suspicious. Then go brush your teeth, voluntarily, before anyone reminds you. This is how you will close the deal.

Margo crawled through the air vent above Laboratory 9, keeping her elbows wide so her backpack would not scrape the metal walls. She hoped the panel beneath her knees was stronger than it looked. Below her, Dr. Bramble moved through the laboratory in a stained white lab coat, stepping around beakers, loose wires, and assorted science equipment. He tipped green liquid into a silver bowl and shouted, "Behold, the breakfast of tomorrow!" Margo's throat tightened. She had come to rescue the missing class hamster, not watch a man prepare a glowing bowl of cereal. Dr. Bramble added blue powder to the bowl, and the mixture began to hum in a low, cheerful way that made Margo deeply uncomfortable. She reminded herself that the hamster was probably scared and hungry. Then a tiny squeak came from the freezer, and Margo knew that now was her chance to make her move.

Aria stood at the altar with both of Jonas's hands held tightly in hers. The chapel waited in silence. Aria was nervous because every face in the chapel seemed to be turned toward her. Jonas grew nervous too, though he was mostly worried that his voice would crack. Aria wondered whether marriage meant she was supposed to become somber always and forever, as stiff and polished as the people in old family portraits. Jonas considered seriously whether he was really ready to give his life to Aria. Marriage is no joke, he thought to himself. Then Aria noticed the ink smudge on Jonas's thumb. She remembered that he had written and rewritten his vows and she knew. Jonas saw her smile and his fear loosened. They felt the room grow warmer and brighter in their closeness. Then the question came and they both knew the answer.

Congratulations on receiving your new emotional support potato. First, give your potato a name, maybe a name that communicates strength and wisdom. It may not show it, but your emotional support potato appreciates your kind and considerate treatment. Next, place your potato somewhere safe. The darkness of the interior of your desk is a fine place for it. Your locker shelf is also a fine location. But, do not leave your potato near hungry friends or around sour cream containers. When you feel nervous, hold your emotional support potato in both hands and take three slow breaths. Your emotional support potato will not complete your late homework assignments, repair your damaged friendships, or solve any of your problems for you. But, it will be there to support you while you solve your problems for yourself. If your potato grows sprouts, do not panic. Those are like its arms. You may accept hugs from your emotional support potato if you so choose.

Salvio sat on the stone bench at the back of his cell with his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes fixed on the iron door. A small slot at the bottom slid open with a long metal scrape. A wooden tray pushed through and clattered onto the dirty stone floor. "Bread and stew," called Officer Berta from the corridor. Salvio stood, crossed the tiny cell, and crouched beside the tray. He picked up the bent wooden spoon and sipped the broth. "Cold," he said. "Always," said Berta. Salvio carried the tray back to the stone bench and sat down with it balanced across his knees. He tore off a piece of the hard bread and chewed it slowly while he watched the door. Officer Berta slid the slot shut with another long scrape and her boots clicked away down the corridor.

When you enter the lobby of the public library, press A to whisper to the librarian at the front desk. She will hand you a list of three books and remind you that there is no running in the aisles. The first book is on shelf JR-558. Walk slowly down aisle 9, even though the hallway is long. If you run, security will send you back to the start of the level. When you reach the right shelf, tap B to slide the book out without disturbing the others. Now you can begin reading this rare, first-edition reference text!

Britney stood at the center of the gym while Captain Lin walked a slow circle around her, demonstrating the final pose with crisp, practiced hands. Britney felt a strange tingling feeling shoot up and down her arms. It saddened Britney that she was beginning to recognize this feeling and now knew what it foreboded. Oh no, she thought, not now, not during competition week. Captain Lin paused mid-step. She frowned and tilted her head. She wondered why Britney's eyes had suddenly turned a bright, glassy yellow, but she decided that Britney was probably just nervous about regionals. Nerves did funny things to people. "Hold your form, Britney," she said, gently lifting her flyer's elbow to the correct angle. Britney felt coarse silver fur push through the sleeves of her practice shirt. She felt the seams on the back of her uniform begin to stretch and stress. Then she felt her face begin to stretch and change. Captain Lin was worried about Britney now but kept clapping and counting, "Five, six, seven, eight!"

We had been on the school bus at least an hour by the time the joke wore off. We were supposed to be at the natural history museum looking at dinosaur fossil reconstructions by now. Instead, our bus driver, Mr. Cobb, had taken the wrong exit off the highway twice in a row, and it felt to me like we were about to travel in another circle. I pressed my forehead against the warm window and watched as we rolled past a field of black and white cows at thirty miles per hour. My friend Courtney leaned across the aisle and tapped my shoulder. "Are we lost?" she whispered. I shrugged and said, "It sure does seem like it." Mr. Cobb cleared his throat over the crackling speaker and informed us that we were currently on a "scenic detour" designed to enrich our learning experience. This explanation seemed rather dubious to me. I stared at the cows standing in the field and they stared back at me as I sat on the bus.

Morgan the witch stirred the cauldron and dropped one newt eye into the glowing stew. She felt perfectly satisfied with this mixture and in her mind the recipe was already balanced. One newt eye gave the stew shine while the beetle wings added lift. Across the fire, Wizard Bixby watched the stew with open disapproval. He believed any proper spell-stew required two newt eyes. He thought Morgan should know better after all her years of cooking. Morgan thought Bixby enjoyed correcting recipes more than cooking them. He had been trying to boss her around ever since he got that big sparkly hat. Likewise, Bixby thought Morgan was just being stubborn. He felt like she had become quite the know-it-all after winning that potion contest. "One more eye," he said. "One more word," Morgan replied, "and you can drink it through your beard." The cauldron bubbled and a puff of green smoke rose from the surface.

Agent Klondike sat tied to a metal chair in a cold gray room with a single dim bulb swinging from the ceiling. The Baron stood by the door with both hands clasped behind his back. Bruce Klondike kept his face still and his eyes calm, but his mind was racing. He could feel the tip of a tiny lockpick hidden inside his belt buckle and a plan began to form in his mind. The Baron smiled in a slow, pleased way and said, "You will tell me everything, Agent Klondike, or you will wish that you had." Secret Agent Bruce Klondike nodded slowly, as though he was already considering it. He was, in fact, counting the seconds until the Baron turned his back.

Pam walked through the sliding doors of Davenport's Furniture and paused beside a display of throw pillows. A man in a wide red tie hurried over from the register and stuck out his hand. "Welcome to Davenport's! I'm Donny." Pam shook his hand briefly and then walked toward a long row of recliners along the back wall of the showroom. Donny followed two steps behind her. "Now that one right there rocks, swivels, AND reclines flat," he said. "Imported leather, two genuine cup holders, and a footrest built like a tank." Pam pressed the cushion with the flat of her hand and tested the armrest. "It's not so much a piece of furniture," Donny said. "as it is a lifestyle with cushions." Pam narrowed her eyes. "How much?" Donny grinned, clasped his hands together, and rocked back on his heels. "Well, for you, today only, I can ask the manager about five hundred. I would say five fifty otherwise, and that is a Wednesday price." Pam straightened up and stepped away from the chair. "I will think about it." Donny pulled a business card from his shirt pocket and held it out between two fingers. "Take this anyway. Just in case." Pam slid the card into her purse.

I crouched in front of the old chrome toaster on the kitchen counter and tightened the small screw on the side of it with my pocket tool. The toaster clicked twice and the lever began to lower on its own, just as I had suspected it would. I leaned in close because I was certain it was finally trying to speak to me. "What did you say, friend?" I asked it in a low and respectful voice. The toaster's coils glowed bright orange behind the slot. I nodded slowly and wrote the first line of its message down in my notebook. "I understand," I whispered back. The toaster dinged once, loud and clear. Surely this was a sign. I thanked it in my politest voice and bowed my head an inch in case it was watching. Then I wrote down everything else it had told me in careful letters, one important word per line.

You stand on a steel girder suspended from a crane forty stories above the city. Fog slides between the rooftops below like cold breath and the girder sways under your boots each time the wind catches it. Across from you, the masked knight raises a curved silver sword. You tighten your grip on your own blade. A chain hangs to your right just within reach. The knight steps closer and taunts you, "No running this time, kid." The wind pulls at your coat and the crane cable twangs overhead. You have only a few seconds to choose. If you decide to charge forward and face the masked knight in a final duel, turn to page 18. If you'd rather grab the hanging chain and swing to the next building, turn to page 42.

Mr. Bello swept popcorn bags, crushed maps, and sticky drink cups from the path outside the monkey house. He already felt tired and lunch was hours away. A boy tossed a candy wrapper toward the trash can, missed by several feet, and jogged away without looking back. Mr. Bello shook his head in disgust and picked up the wrapper. Through the fence, the lemurs sat in a tidy row beneath the shade net, their ringed tails curled around them like striped ropes. Mr. Bello thought some of the animals were cleaner than some of the people who came to stare at them. He sighed and pushed the broom forward.

Mrs. Noble knelt in the garden beside a row of tomato plants tied carefully to bamboo stakes. She pinched a yellow leaf from the lowest stem with two fingers and dropped it into a white bucket. A beetle crawled across the smooth skin of a green tomato. Mrs. Noble slid the flat end of a popsicle stick beneath the beetle, lifted it from the fruit, and carried it to the far side of the fence. "Not today, little bandit," she said, flinging the creature to a new location. A sprinkler clicked in the next yard. Mrs. Noble pushed loose soil around the base of the plant, poured water near the roots from a dented can, and moved down the row to inspect the peppers.