CHAPTER 3
After school on Tuesday and Wednesday, right after school let out, I made Ruth Abramowitz, as I had mentioned earlier, my best friend, who owned a little red Cabriolet, drove me to the hospital to check on Rebecca. I couldn't ask Rob to do so because he was busy repairing cars at his uncle's garage store since he work there and not be in college. But I'd ask him to think about going to study in college, though I myself am not so sure about it, but you know, how am I going to actually introduce him to my relatives who are all college bounds? Okay, so IF we ever marry each other, I would need my family to approve him first, and yeah, making them think he's a great guy for me when practically all he had done since he was like, 15, is work in his uncle's garage, even if yeah, he is kind of smart?
No way.
Anyway, on Thursday, after I got back home from the hospital, I saw this medium sized box addressed for me and I was like, wow, neat. I brought the box up to my room and opened it. There was no returned address or anything, but there was this beautiful antique box that looked like it was from the early 1800. There was also a small unique old key next to the box to open it. Slowly, trying not to ruin or drop the box, I opened the box. And that was when I froze. A really deadly item was placed nicely in the box.
It was a made-by-somebody-by-hand bomb.
And it was already ticking.
My mind had suddenly stopped working. I couldn't call anybody because they can't reach home in three minutes. Mum and dad? Attending a dinner party. Douglas? Out with Tasha. Michael? Attending a seminar at his college. That was when it really sunk in.
That if I don't try and stop it myself, I could be ashes in just another 3:55:62.
Okay, you can do this, Jess. Remember that Facts about Bombs book you read last summer for English? What did it say? Cut the green wire? Or is it the white wire? How about the yellow one? Sheesh!
Okay, so I panicked. And yeah, there was only three precious minutes left. I already had a pair of scissors in my hands, but question is... which wire color to cut? I tried to remember what that book wrote but I just couldn't remember whether it was the white or the green wire that I was supposed to cut.
Two minutes.
I closed my eyes. And that's when I realized that tears were streaming down my cheeks. And let me tell you, I am so not a girl who easily cried, even on life-and-death situation. Suddenly, I wasn't feeling scared anymore. I know this because my heart wasn't beating like a 100 times a second anymore. No, I was feeling mad. Like, really mad, the don't-mess-with-me mad feeling. And did I mention total hatred to this person who expects to see me dead?
One minute.
I decided to cut the green one. But I hesitate. It suddenly struck me that if I cut the wrong wire, it would just explode at that second. What Rob always said to me when he asks me questions was what I was chanting over and over in my mind: think harder, Mastriani.
Thirty seconds.
I cut the yellow wire.
Nothing happened. The bomb was still working. So, the yellow wire wasn't the one.
Ten seconds.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three
Two.
I cut the white wire.
One. And that was where the bomb's time-teller stopped.
I smiled.
I did it.
A note was left for me, placed under the bomb...
Treasure your last few precious minutes, Lightning Girl.
I'm not going to burn in hell, Mr. I'll-just-call-you-Anonymous.
You are.
And just you wait.
After school on Tuesday and Wednesday, right after school let out, I made Ruth Abramowitz, as I had mentioned earlier, my best friend, who owned a little red Cabriolet, drove me to the hospital to check on Rebecca. I couldn't ask Rob to do so because he was busy repairing cars at his uncle's garage store since he work there and not be in college. But I'd ask him to think about going to study in college, though I myself am not so sure about it, but you know, how am I going to actually introduce him to my relatives who are all college bounds? Okay, so IF we ever marry each other, I would need my family to approve him first, and yeah, making them think he's a great guy for me when practically all he had done since he was like, 15, is work in his uncle's garage, even if yeah, he is kind of smart?
No way.
Anyway, on Thursday, after I got back home from the hospital, I saw this medium sized box addressed for me and I was like, wow, neat. I brought the box up to my room and opened it. There was no returned address or anything, but there was this beautiful antique box that looked like it was from the early 1800. There was also a small unique old key next to the box to open it. Slowly, trying not to ruin or drop the box, I opened the box. And that was when I froze. A really deadly item was placed nicely in the box.
It was a made-by-somebody-by-hand bomb.
And it was already ticking.
My mind had suddenly stopped working. I couldn't call anybody because they can't reach home in three minutes. Mum and dad? Attending a dinner party. Douglas? Out with Tasha. Michael? Attending a seminar at his college. That was when it really sunk in.
That if I don't try and stop it myself, I could be ashes in just another 3:55:62.
Okay, you can do this, Jess. Remember that Facts about Bombs book you read last summer for English? What did it say? Cut the green wire? Or is it the white wire? How about the yellow one? Sheesh!
Okay, so I panicked. And yeah, there was only three precious minutes left. I already had a pair of scissors in my hands, but question is... which wire color to cut? I tried to remember what that book wrote but I just couldn't remember whether it was the white or the green wire that I was supposed to cut.
Two minutes.
I closed my eyes. And that's when I realized that tears were streaming down my cheeks. And let me tell you, I am so not a girl who easily cried, even on life-and-death situation. Suddenly, I wasn't feeling scared anymore. I know this because my heart wasn't beating like a 100 times a second anymore. No, I was feeling mad. Like, really mad, the don't-mess-with-me mad feeling. And did I mention total hatred to this person who expects to see me dead?
One minute.
I decided to cut the green one. But I hesitate. It suddenly struck me that if I cut the wrong wire, it would just explode at that second. What Rob always said to me when he asks me questions was what I was chanting over and over in my mind: think harder, Mastriani.
Thirty seconds.
I cut the yellow wire.
Nothing happened. The bomb was still working. So, the yellow wire wasn't the one.
Ten seconds.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three
Two.
I cut the white wire.
One. And that was where the bomb's time-teller stopped.
I smiled.
I did it.
A note was left for me, placed under the bomb...
Treasure your last few precious minutes, Lightning Girl.
I'm not going to burn in hell, Mr. I'll-just-call-you-Anonymous.
You are.
And just you wait.