By Cecil Castellucci
Meet Egg. Her genuine identify is Victoria Jurgen, yet she's renamed herself after the kick-ass heroine of her favourite sci-fi motion picture, TERMINAL EARTH. Like her namesake, Egg attire all in white, colours her eyebrows, and shaves her head. She continuously is familiar with the ideal solutions, she's consistently up to the mark, and she's a long way too busy — taking images for the college paper, assembly with the technology Fiction and delusion membership, and placing out on the "creature shop" together with her dad, the special-effects make-up wizard — to be stricken with buddies, less individuals of the other intercourse. so far as Egg is anxious, she's boy facts, and he or she likes it that manner. yet then Egg meets a boy named Max, a boy who's clever and humorous and artistic and funky . . . and occurs to love Egg. may well this be the tip of the area — at the least as Egg understands it?
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Yeah,” Whit agrees. ” He grabs a fresh sweatshirt off a nearby rack and starts to put it on. Janine’s losing her patience. She folds her arms across her chest authoritatively. ” Her eyes shift to a rack of cycling shorts that suddenly sprouts a head. Byron! “I have unfortunate news for all of you,” he says smarmily. ” I say indignantly. He laughs. “I’m a Resistance spy, and don’t you forget it,” he mimics. I roll my eyes. “Well? We’re waiting for your unfortunate news,” I say. “Just because Margo was… eliminated,” Byron emphasizes, “it doesn’t mean that suddenly Janine is leader of the week.
Not only is he all over the New Order broadcasts, he’s making his way into our transmissions. ” Byron snaps a picture of himself with the phone. I grab it and look at the image. My jaw drops. In the picture, The One Who Is The One’s face is directly over Byron’s shoulder. “It’s probably just proof that you’re a traitor,” I say, handing back the phone. ” snarls Byron. ” He turns and snaps a picture of Whit. Whit takes the phone and looks at the photo of himself. And promptly turns white. He starts to shiver, and this little tic he has in his left eye starts up.
Celia looks back at me, and her long hair starts reaching out of the screen, flowing toward me. I feel pulled in by it. I have no resistance to her. I feel as if I’m airborne, flying toward the screen to be swallowed by her eyes, her lips, her soft, soothing voice. “I have to go now, Whit. Turn yourselves in. Save us. ” Then the screen fuzzes out, and I’m falling into blackness that seems to have no end. Chapter 12 Wisty NOW THAT WAS MAYBE the strangest thing that has happened to us so far. Another mystery inside a mystery inside a mystery.