Doomed (3 page)

“Of course I want. But I’m talking about more than pizza at Little Nicky’s. You only turn seventeen once. We should go out, party!”

“I like Little Nicky’s.”

“So not the point.”

I bite back a grin—even after all these years, she’s just too easy. “I thought we were planning on doing plenty of partying with Jules, Chase, and Steven tomorrow.”

That distracts her, as I knew it would. You don’t spend most of your life being someone’s best friend without knowing what buttons to push, or not push, as the case might be.

“The Black Keys concert is going to be awesome. I can’t wait.” She pauses. “Did you ask Theo and Eli if they want the extra tickets, like we talked about yesterday?”

“What? No!” I can feel heat crawling up my cheeks at just the mention of their names. “
You
talked about that, not me. Why would I
do
that, anyway?”

“Because I don’t have any classes with them, so I can’t
ask? I’ve been trying to figure out a way to meet them for two weeks. I mean, they’re gorgeous and smart and way taller than you—which, you have to admit, is rare. Add in the fact that you guys are doing a scene together, inviting them to go out in a group of friends seems pretty normal to me.”

I glance at her incredulously. “Yeah, well, obviously you missed the part of our lunch conversation where I told you Theo tried to
kill
me in English today. That’s not the kind of friend I want or need.”

“Give me a break. You don’t even have a mark.” She pulls on my necklace to make the point.

“Are you listening to yourself? You act like it’s normal for a guy I barely know to wrap his hands around my throat. And squeeze.”

“It is normal if he was
acting
.”

I crumple up a napkin from the front console and throw it at her. “Your definition of normal is highly suspect. Besides, I’m not so crazy that I’d ask out possibly
the
hottest and most homicidal guy in school. Besides, have you seen the way he dresses? So not my type.”

“Hey, he’s rocking the Harvard vibe. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah, well, my mom rocked that same Harvard vibe, and see how well she turned out.”

“Hmm, good point. So maybe you should go for Eli and I’ll go for Theo.”

“Do you seriously have nothing better to do than sit around plotting out my love life?” I demand.

“Someone has to.” Emily reaches over to hug me as we
stop in front of her house. “Someday you’re going to regret all the things you didn’t do,” she says as she pulls something out of her bag and thrusts it at me.

I glance down at it. It’s wrapped in newspaper and has a kick-ass black-and-red bow across the top that’s nearly as big as the gift itself. “Open it later,” she says as she climbs out of the car.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Because presents go better with cake? I’ll see you tonight at seven, okay?”

“I’ll be there.” I wave as she turns to walk away.

And then I’m pulling into traffic, cruising down the winding, hilly road that surrounds Austin’s Lake Travis and leads to Walgreens and my house. Every minute or so, I glance at the package Emily gave me, and I decide that it’s later, even if there’s not a chocolate crumb in sight.

I can’t help it. From the time I was a toddler, I’ve never been able to stand not knowing the answer to something. Whether it’s a question at school or how something works or what was in the presents my dad used to hide for me—it doesn’t matter. My curiosity drives me crazy until I feel like I’ll die if I don’t find the answer.

For a second it flits through my mind that that’s the reason my dad sent me the e-mail. Because he remembers my Christmas-present scavenger hunts as a kid and knew I wouldn’t be able to resist opening the link. Not that it matters, I guess. But still, I wonder if he knows me that well. If he still cares enough to remember. He was the one who insisted on naming me Pandora, after all.

The second I pull into the parking lot at Walgreens, I’m
ripping into Emily’s present. I grin when I see what she got me, and I can’t stop the little bubble of excitement that works its way through me. A first-issue copy of Stone Temple Pilots CD
Core
, autographed by the entire band. Could she have picked a more perfect gift? I’ve been collecting first-issue CDs for years, and the fact that it’s signed makes it even better.

I grab my phone, text her a thank-you. It takes a minute or so to go through, which is odd, but when she texts me right back, I forget all about it. I smile when I see her message:

I knew u couldn’t wt. It’s a sickness, Pandora. Srsly. Get help now. LOL.

I run into Walgreens and pay for the photos I ordered this morning, then take them out and look at them right there in the store. There are only twelve, but in that moment they feel more precious to me than anything else I own—even my new CD.

I drive home slowly, thinking about them. Thinking about my dad and the website he set up for me. Anxious to check it again, I head up to my room as soon as I get home. I didn’t have a chance to read all of my dad’s messages this morning, and I want to see what the others say. Except when I type in the address of the blog, nothing comes up. I try again—still nothing—and then finally go searching for the e-mail my dad sent me. I must be remembering the address wrong.

But the e-mail is gone, too. Which isn’t possible. I mean, I was in a hurry this morning, but I would know if I’d deleted
it, wouldn’t I? Still, I check the trash folder, just in case. Nothing’s there. Then I check the spam folder, but the only things there are ads for cheap prescription medicine and cheaper mortgages.

I’m totally bummed now, and if I didn’t have the twelve pictures I might have thought I imagined the whole thing. But I
do
have them, so I know I’m not crazy. It happened.

I just don’t know what occurred afterward. Was I really in such a big hurry that I trashed the only e-mail I’ve ever gotten from my dad? What a moron.

Frustrated and pissed off at myself, I insert the
Core
CD into my laptop and lie across the bed. My stomach growls and I think about going back down to the kitchen and grabbing something to eat, but I’m too annoyed. Instead, I stare at the ceiling, studying the hundreds of CD covers I have tacked up there and contemplating my father’s letters to me while “Wicked Garden” plays in the background.

If I hadn’t been stupid enough to erase the e-mail, and if the website hadn’t disappeared off the face of the earth, would I have written back to him? And if I did, what would I say?

The thing is, I don’t know the answer to either of those questions. His letters were nice and so are the pictures. But they’re not much to hang a relationship on, especially since I haven’t seen him in ten years.

Eventually my hunger gets the best of me, so I grab my laptop and cruise down to the kitchen. On the way, I flick on the television and start streaming the first season of
Supernatural
, right where I left off, at episode 4, “Phantom Traveler.” Then I head to the pantry and pour myself a bowl
of cereal. Crunch Berries, of course. Between mouthfuls, I open my laptop and boot it up.

I play around for a while—Facebook stuff, checking out the Cliffs Notes for
Othello
, looking for a new pair of boots because my old ones are pretty much trashed. By then it’s after five thirty and my mom still hasn’t called. I check my phone to see if I missed a text from her—sometimes reception can be spotty in the house—but there’s nothing.

I start my calculus homework, but it’s not due until Friday, so eventually I give up on it. Being productive is highly overrated. Besides, I
so
shouldn’t have to do advanced math on my birthday.

Finally, I do what I’ve wanted to do for the last forty-five minutes. I log on to Pandora’s Box. Usually I play it on my iPad, but I’m too lazy to go up to my room and get it right now. Besides, it works fine on my laptop, even if the colors aren’t quite as cool.

I’m kind of excited about playing again—when I left off yesterday, I had just hit level twenty-seven. I want to get through it quickly and find the alternate-reality, or AR, gate that will transport me to the next level, because Jules says twenty-eight is the best so far.

Except instead of dropping me off in the middle of the barren wasteland that was once New York City, the game flashes a new message across the screen:

Happy Seventeenth Birthday, Pandora!

What the … ?

I stare at the screen, confused. How is it possible that
the game knows my birthday—and my name? My user name is totally unconnected to my real name. And yet, there it is, staring at me in a very distinct yellow font.
My
name.

I think back to when I first jumped on the Pandora’s Box bandwagon, months ago. I’d resisted for a long time—because of the name thing—but when I finally gave in I remember having to register, just like with any MMO. Had they asked for my birthdate? I vaguely remember that they had, and it calms me down a little. Still, I make a mental note to ask Jules if she got the same greeting four weeks ago on
her
birthday. The last thing I need is some weird pervert guy hacking my account …

I click to get to the new screen and the birthday message slowly fades, only to be replaced by the words:

You’ve reached the point of no return.
Welcome to the real Pandora’s Box.

Underneath is a giant, flashing number 10 in bright red, just to make sure you don’t miss it. I try to click on it but nothing happens. Try to click on the message, but no luck there, either. Then the letters dissolve only to re-form with a new message:

Total annihilation in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 days.

The 1 is huge, takes over the entire screen for a brief second before morphing into a graphic of the earth. Seconds later, the world blows up, little pieces streaming across
the screen like fireworks. Then everything fades to black. Nothing.

I click on the screen, hit Return, Escape, all those things they teach you to do when your computer does something weird. But nothing happens, and I have to admit I’m a little freaked out. It’s stupid, I know. Pandora’s Box is just a game. And yet … and yet, I can’t help viewing this new bizarre message as some kind of threat.

A weird feeling hits me, and I reach for my cell phone, dial Jules. Wait impatiently, but it never starts to ring. I pull it away from my ear, check the reception. No bars. Of course not. Why is it so difficult to get decent coverage out here? I live near the lake, not in the middle of the wilds of frickin’ Africa.

Tossing my cell down on the table, I cross the kitchen. Reach for the cordless phone I almost never use anymore, and dial Jules’s number: 555-3782.

Nothing happens.

What. The. Hell?

I hang up and try again: 5-5-5-3-7-8-2. Put the phone to my ear and wait even more impatiently. Still nothing. I click the Off button again, then hit Talk. Hold the stupid thing to my ear. There’s no dial tone. Nothing. Just the strange, eerie silence of a dead line.

The eerie feeling is back, along with an increasing uneasiness that has me glancing across the room at my computer and the words that have just started scrawling across it again. “Total annihilation in 10 days.” The 10 flashes.

I wait for the countdown, for the earth to blow up again, but nothing happens and I shake myself out of it. I can’t believe I’m letting a video game weird me out. Talk about ridiculous. Especially since the loss of service isn’t all that unusual out here.

Like I said before, I live by the lake, which has a lot of advantages—including the dock and boat right at the bottom of our property. But one of the disadvantages is that a lot of the time, coverage out here leaves something to be desired. If there’s a storm, or even just a really windy day, we lose the phone and sometimes even electricity.

I glance outside. The sky is growing dark, but without a cloud in sight. And the trees are barely moving. Still, that
doesn’t mean anything. I’ll give whoever’s in charge of this kind of thing at the phone company a few minutes to figure it out and then try again. No big deal.

But just then, the fan on my laptop starts running full speed. The screen blinks off and on. It whirrs some more and then does the same thing again and again. I rush over, try to shut it down, but it won’t do anything. Won’t budge from Pandora’s Box. I try to force the game closed, but it doesn’t work. Nothing does, and I’m starting to get a little nervous.

What
is going
on
?

I head for the stairs, for my mom’s office, with some half-formed plan of checking out her computer, making sure it’s okay. I’m halfway up before I register the unnatural silence in the house. Waste of energy or not, I always have something going, always have some noise around me. It helps me feel less alone. In this case, I know I turned on the TV as soon as I got downstairs, started streaming
Supernatural
.

But the TV isn’t streaming anything—instead, there’s just the bright blue AT&T U-Verse screen that usually comes up whenever I first turn on the TV.

Are you kidding me?
Totally frustrated, I go back down the stairs. I push a few buttons, but nothing happens. No streaming. No regular TV channels. Nothing. The TV signal’s out, too. Terrific. Emily’s going to love that when she comes here tonight.

At that moment, the light over the stairs flickers off, on, off, on, off, on again.

I hate the dark and I panic, am out the front door before my brain even registers leaving as an option. Either the utility companies are having the mother of all bad days or
the house is suddenly possessed. Whichever it is, I’m done trying to figure it out.

I pause at the end of my driveway, try to decide what to do. I’m being stupid, I know I am, yet I can’t bring myself to go back inside. Maybe I should check with the neighbors, see if they’re having the same problems I am. If they are, then it’s no big deal. I can go back home and get ready for the birthday dinner that suddenly feels like it’s a million miles off.