World Against December

Chapter 3

               As soon as I arrived at home, I collapsed on the sofa. I didn’t know why I was so exhausted today, but it probably had to do with getting back in the routine of waking up so early. Both my parents sat at the kitchen table, laughing hysterically at some video on YouTube.

               “December, you have to come see this!” Acacia exclaimed in between sobbing laughs. Reluctantly, I pulled myself off of the comfy sofa and leaned over the computer they were both gawking at, already knowing what the video was going to be. Bartholomew started the video from the beginning and played it, which showed the new president of Amnesia giving his speech, casual as could be. After a minute or two, however, sweat began to glisten on his forehead, and stained his shirt under his arms. Then, he began to shake uncontrollably and stuttered as he spoke.

               Okay, I’ll admit it, it was pretty funny. I stifled a laugh as President Xander frantically looked around for help, trying to figure out what was going on. As he continued to stutter, he blurted out, very loudly, “I HATE PUPPIES!” Acacia and Bartholomew erupted into hoots of laughter, while the crowd in the video booed and the president slapped both hands over his mouth. “I’m so sorry!” said Xander, “I didn’t mean—I—I …” And then he passed out right there at his podium.

               “Wow,” I said after the video ended. “How did you ever manage that?”

               Bartholomew gave a devilish grin. “That’s our little secret.” I continued staring at both of them, knowing they wouldn’t be able to resist sharing about their amazing feat. “Okay, so here’s what we did,” Bartholomew said at last. “You know how whenever someone gives a speech, they have a bottle of water with them?” I nodded. “Well, we managed to get ahold of it, and spiked it with caffeine so that he would get very anxious and jumpy!”

               “Then,” Acacia joined, “I hacked his precious teleprompter, knowing Xander wouldn’t be able to get by without it. Which is why he started stuttering and saying things he knew he’d regret!” she explained with excitement. “So you see, it wasn’t as hard as it seemed.”

               “I bet the hardest part was coming up with the idea,” I pointed out.

               “Well, it’s true, you need to be pretty creative to come up with a scheme worth executing,” Bartholomew stated.

               “Hey, can I ask you guys something?”

               “Of course, December, anything,” said Acacia.

               “What do you know about Maxmillion Maur?”

               Bartholomew chuckled. “Ah, so you’ve met one of the Maur children, have you? Yes, if I recall correctly, Max is a good person to have on your side.

               I stopped him before he could say anything else. “What do you mean by one of the Maur children?” I inquired. “Are there others?”

               “Maxmillion has an older sister, who’s very intelligent, but she’s down in Africa trying to feed the children. Jerk.”

               “Okay, well, what do you know about Maxmillion, then?”

               “He’s beyond genius,” Bartholomew explained. “He spends his free time inventing complex computerized devices in his basement. He controls over a hundred computers around the globe. Never been caught. He’s a great person to have on your side.”

               “Well, that’s good,” I replied, “because I was thinking of asking him for a favor.” And then I told Bartholomew and Acacia my idea, and wide grins spread across both of their faces.

               “Interesting,” Acacia said, raising her eyebrows. “It won’t be easy, but with Maxmillion’s brains and your cleverness, I’m sure you’ll be able to pull it off.”

               “And if he doesn’t agree, just threaten him,” Bartholomew added.

               “Or trick him.”

               “Or bribe him.”

               “Or make a loved one mysteriously disappear.”

               “Okay, okay, I get it! Jeez!” I waved my hands in front of me. I was perfectly capable of getting what I wanted by myself.

               After conversing some more about my diabolical plan, I decided to take the nap I had attempted when I got home. I trudged to my room, which was very old-fashioned in style, with a black carpet, deep red walls and an oriental Persian rug. It contained no electric lights or windows, but my genetically-engineered bioluminescent shark lit up the entire room so that it was even bright enough to read. I draped a black sheet over the large tank so that Glowey wouldn’t disturb me (don’t judge me; I came up with the name when I was seven). Then, I threw back the heated covers on my bed and climbed in.

               I was sprinting through an underground tunnel with walls, ceiling, and floor all made from concrete. Black lights lined the length of it, and cobwebs filled the dusty corners. I was running, but from what? As I found myself at a dead end, I frantically spun around, only to find twenty or so people closing in on me, led by a boy about my age carrying a gun. I looked left and right, searching desperately for a way to escape. But there was none. Before I could make any move, dozens of hands clamped around my throat, and I couldn’t breathe if I tried. The gun was pointed at my head. I was going to die. As I was panicking, I noticed something out of the corner of my blurred vision. It was a girl I’d never seen before, perched upon one of the hanging black lights. She wasn’t helping the rest of them, but rather sitting there, watching the show. She stared straight into my eyes, and said something I didn’t catch. Then she laughed the most blood-curdling laugh I had ever heard come out of a girl’s mouth.