Don't own it. Nope.
"That's not going to work."
Tim looked at me when I said that. And threw down the tools he had been working with for the past hour. "And you know this how?" he asked. I swear I could see the steam coming out of his ears.
"You didn't build the outer shell right. As soon as this thing gets into the air it'll get to hot, causing the wires inside it to explode." I tried to stay calm when I said it, but couldn't quite keep my anger under control. Why did he always have to question me? I made the rockets just as well as he did.
"It'll work." Tim assured me before turning around.
"No, it won't." I muttered under my breath.
Tim whipped around, "Yes, it will."
"It won't."
"It will!"
"It won't!"
The words had barely gotten out of my mouth when Tim flew at me, knocking the wind out of my lungs and toppling both of us over. We rolled around on the floor of the workshop, ripping at each other's hair, scratching each other, and laughing our heads off.
Tim had me pinned on the cold cement when mother walked in. "Boys, dad and I are going out. Kimmie's gone. Be good." She looked us straight in the eye when she said that. "I mean it. No using the oven or toaster or stove in your experiments. And keep out of my makeup. It doesn't explode."
She left after she said that, and Tim got off of me. "It will." He said one final time.
I shrugged. "It might, if you let me help."
Tim moved over and let me get a good look at the rocket. Rockets are our thing. We build them like other kids our age build forts out of Legos. In like an addiction.
We worked together for a half hour before It happened.
"Don't poke me, Jim, I can't concentrate." Tim said, frustrated.
"I didn't poke you." I answered, not really paying attention. This shell had to have the exact right formula, and I almost had it.
"No, but I did." A low voice came from the shadows. We about faced at the same time, still holding our respective tools and looking through the shadows of the garage for the voice.
A second later, I was picked up roughly. I heard a small noise from beside me and knew that Tim, too, had been lifted.
Then somebody hit me over the head, and I knew nothing else.
Cool. Kidnapped?
Mike, I swear I won't tell you what I'm going to write anymore.
It's not like they didn't know it anyway. Review!