what you and Chetwynde will catch.”
Uh-oh. Mitchell was being smarter than Mark thought possible.
“Okay,” said Mark, though it killed him to do it. “But I can’t let you read it before me and Courtney. The letters are being sent to us, not you. After we read ‘em, I’ll let you have a look. But the letters stay with me, and if you tell anybody and I meananybodyabout what’s going on, I’ll make sure you get in every bit as much trouble as we do.”
Mitchell thought a second, then handed the lost page to Mark. Mark grabbed it like it was his most valuable possession in the world. And at that moment, it was.
“Deal,” he said. “When do I get to read what you got?”
Mark started for the door. He was feeling bold and lost at the same time. He no longer cared about Mitchell’s bully tactics. Their relationship had just been kicked into a higher gear. It was a dangerous gear that was way beyond petty bully stuff.
“I’ll let you know,” declared Mark, and opened the door.
“You better, Dimond,” threatened Mitchell. “We’re partners now.”
Mark stopped and looked back at the creepy Andy Mitchell. He was right. Theywerepartners now, sort of. The thought made Mark’s stomach roll.
A short while later Mark met Courtney near the gym, just as they had arranged the night before. Courtney was all sorts of excited to know if Mark had found the missing page.
“Well?” she asked impatiently.
Mark’s mind raced. What was he going to tell her? He knew he was going to have to tell her the truth, but right now he felt as if he had failed her, and failed Bobby. It started when he left the page in the bathroom and continued when he didn’t have the guts to stand up to Andy Mitchell. He felt like such a loser. Yes, he was going to have to tell Courtney the truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it just then.
“I got the page,” he said. “And this.”
He pulled Bobby’s newest journal from his pack. Courtney’s eyes lit up.
“Double score! Excellent! See, I told you it was going to work out.”
“You were right,” said Mark with absolutely no enthusiasm.
Courtney didn’t sense this. She had enough enthusiasm going for the both of them.
“That’s weird,” said Courtney.
D. J. MacHale
The Lost City of Faar
“What?” Mark shot back, hoping that she hadn’t sensed something had gone terribly wrong.
Courtney took the newest journal from Mark and looked at it.
“This isn’t like the last one,” she said with curiosity. “The last journal was written on that green, waterproof paper. This is… different.”
She was right. Mark had been so nervous about Andy Mitchell, he hadn’t even noticed it himself. This new journal was much more like Bobby’s first journals that he wrote on Denduron. The pages were brown and crusty looking like parchment.
“You’re right,” was all Mark could say.
“Okay, we gotta wait till after school to read,” she said, handing him back the pages. “Meet me out front after last period and we’ll get back to my basement. Okay?”
“Sure. Sounds good.”
“Man, I hope I can wait that long. I’m dying! Don’t peek, all right?”
“No problem. I won’t peek,” said Mark, wondering how he was going to keep Andy Mitchell from peeking all day.
Mark and Courtney then separated and went about their normal school day. Mark did his best to immerse himself in school-work to get his mind off his dilemma. A few times while classes were passing, he caught sight of Andy Mitchell. Mitchell wouldn’t say a word. He’d just give Mark this exaggerated wink as if to say: “We’ve got a secret, right, pal?” Mark would just turn away and cringe.
After school Mark and Courtney met up just as planned. They barely said anything to each other as they walked to Courtney’s house. A dozen times Mark started to tell her about Andy Mitchell, but couldn’t find the right words. He saw how excited Courtney was about reading the new journal, and didn’t want to crash her mood.
When they got to the house, Mark decided that he wouldn’t say anything about Mitchell until after they read Bobby’s journal. In spite of all the extra stuff that was going on, Mark was excited to find out what happened to their friend. So without Courtney realizing that a momentous decision had been reached, the two sat down on the dusty couch to jump once again into the world that had become Bobby’s.
“I’m shaking,” said Courtney as she held the pages.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” countered Mark, though he was shaking for a whole bunch more reasons than Courtney.
Luckily for him, the time for talking was over. It was time to read.
Oh, man, I gotta apologize to you guys. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that. It’s just that things are happening fast now and I haven’t had many chances to write. That last journal was getting pretty long and I wanted to send it before something happened to it, or to me. I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.
I’m writing this new journal from a place where I finally feel safe. At least for now, anyway. I won’t tell you where it is yet because the events that led me here were pretty wild. I’d rather recount things as they happened and not jump ahead. It’s easier that way. But I’ll tease you a little by saying you’re not going to believe where I am. Now let’s get back to where I left you hanging.
When Magorran hit Grallion, I felt it rather than saw it. The impact sent a giant Shockwave throughout the habitat that knocked most people off their feet, including me and Uncle Press. The habitat shuddered and shook and a horrible grinding sound filled the air as the two giant ships collided. I couldn’t see it, but I could imagine the destruction that was happening at the point of impact. I could only hope that it wouldn’t be so devastating as to send both habitats to the bottom.
Moments before the collision the aquaneers had thrown off most of the lines that secured Grallion, so that when the habitats hit, we would be pushed back instead of holding firm. If not for that move, there would have been way more damage. Also, the pilot of Grallion threw the engines into full reverse, which helped to soften the blow. Still, that wasn’t enough to avoid the crash. Even after the collision, Magorran kept coming. The big habitat was powerful and moving fast. It pushed Grallion across the surface of the ocean like a toy. A really big toy. The only way to stop it was to stop Magorran.
Once we realized we weren’t going to sink, Uncle Press helped me to my feet. There was a strong vibration from the force of the charging habitat and it was difficult to stand. Up till now I never even felt like I was on a ship. Now I felt like I was on theTitanic, and it was banging against the iceberg.
But there was one other thought that made me even more nervous. When something this huge and bad happened it could only mean one thing: Saint Dane was in the house. The look on Uncle Press’s face told me he was thinking the same thing. This accident was classic Saint Dane. I could almost hear the wheels turning in Uncle Press’s head as he calculated what the crash might mean to Grallion, to Cloral, to Halla, and to us. Finally he announced, “We’re on the wrong habitat.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
He wasn’t. Uncle Press took off running toward the impact point. This was insane. The safest place to be was far away from where the two habitats had collided. But being safe wasn’t usually high on Uncle Press’s To Do list. He was headed right for the most dangerous place on board, and I was right after him. We ran past several vators who were fleeing from the bow to a safer part of the habitat. There was a name for those guys. Smart. We weren’t being smart; we were headed toward disaster.
The closer we got to the bow, the more damage there was. The deck had buckled and split. I could look down through jagged tears and see below to the pipes and struts that held Grallion together. It got tricky dodging around these open fissures. One wrong step and we could have fallen a few stories into the guts of Grallion. It was like running over a rickety old footbridge where the bottom could fall out at any moment. Still, Uncle Press wouldn’t stop.
When we got near the bow, we saw the full extent of the devastation. Each of the two habitats were crushed where they impacted. It was a twisted mess of beams, girders, and decking. This no longer looked like a habitat. It
