Chapter 1

I sit at the computer, on bed, typing my report on the Medieval Europe Social Pyramid. My seventh grade history textbook lies open next to me and pages of notes lie neatly stacked next to the keyboard. Flipping through the pages in my book, I mutter to myself, and type words onto the keyboard. Red squiggly lines pop up under my words. Green ones rule the page.

“Hmph.” I revise them and keep muttering to myself. Writing is probably one of the things I really hate, and language arts is my worst subject. This assignment will probably bring down my grade from a solid A to a petty B. With one last final effort, I punch in a few more words and hit the save button. Done. I’ll revise it later.

It’s 8:00 pm right now, which leaves me about an hour and a half before I should go to bed. Luckily, the assignment isn’t due until next Monday, but I want to get it done. I shut down the laptop and shut it closed. I lean my head back onto my soft pillow and sigh. I wish we didn’t have school everyday. Life would be so much easier. I sit up and straighten out the blue and pink sheets that I just wrinkled. Standing up, I stretch and head downstairs.

My dad is sitting in the messy living room packing notebooks into his bag. He is already dressed in his work suit, and his chocolate hair is neatly gelled back. He grabs his laptop off the grey carpet and carefully shoves it into his bag, which is basically full. He looks up.

“Oh, hi honey,” He zips up the black bag and heaves it onto his shoulder. “I have to go to work. Emergency call. It must be something big and new. I don’t know what it is. Just got the call.”

He stands up and gives me a warm hug, “See you later tonight, Sam.”

“What time?” I ask as he pulls away, ruffling my dirty blonde hair.

“Late,” He replies, slipping on his leather shoes. “I should be able to see you though before you fall asleep.”

“Okay,” I sigh. He kisses me goodbye and steps out the door slamming it behind him. I’m not totally surprised about this “surprise” meeting or whatever, because this is how most of my nights are. I finish my homework, come downstairs, and see my dad about to leave for work. He is usually very busy and I rarely get to spend time with him. He works as a scientist at some place close by. I forgot what type of scientist he is and what place he works at because both have really long names. I think it starts with a “T”. I can’t be sure.

I wonder what he even studies sometimes, since he never tells me. I learned to stop asking him questions about it though, because he’ll just change the subject and ignore me for the next hour or so. My mother, who had been murdered several years ago, probably didn’t know either. I’m not really saddened by it though, because I was really young when she died.

The living room that I stand in is a dump. Papers and books lie scattered everywhere and a couple of mud covered jackets lay splayed on the floor. The room is stuffy, so I open some windows to let in the cool air. I rub my eyes and flop down onto the couch. My fingers search through the soft, blue couch cushions for the TV remote until they feel the familiar hard plastic. I pull it out and flip on the TV, watching a reality TV show until 9:30. My dad still hasn’t come back, which also doesn’t surprise me.

“Five more minutes of this stupid show,” I mutter to myself. “Might as well see how it ends.”

The TV suddenly shuts off, flickering a couple of times before going completely black. I blink and reach for the TV remote to turn it back on. Nothing. I punch the “On” key several more times in frustration. Still nothing. The couch softens the impact as I mash my face into the cushions in annoyance. I need to watch the end of the program to see how it ends. I absolutely hate cliff hangers.

“Why now?” I say loudly, as if I were talking to someone. A loud beep sounds from the kitchen and I freeze, listening for anything, but only complete silence follows. Slowly, I get up and head over to the kitchen. The microwave clock has suddenly gone blank and I look at my own analog watch on my wrist for the time. The normal ticking sound has stopped and the arms don’t move. I put my ear to the cold glass, but nothing happens. Swearing silently under my breath, I rush to the kitchen sink to splash myself in the face with the tap water. It usually wakes me up so I can think straight. I reach for the smooth handle and turn on the faucet. A couple of measly drops plop out, but nothing else comes. The drops sit in the bottom of the white sink and seem to pause, as if wondering why the normal flow of water wasn’t coming, before rolling into the drain. The white tile under my feet suddenly feels freezing and goosebumps prickle up my arms and legs. I’m not sure if it’s just my imagination or what, so I immediately run and snatch the phone just as the lights flicker out. I madly start punching in my dad’s cell phone number and hit the call button.

Please don’t go out on me. I pray silently. C’mon, pick up. Pick up.

“Hello?” I hear my dad’s voice.

“Dad!” I nearly scream into the phone. “The power’s gone out, but nothing works, not even the water, and my own analog watch isn’t ticking. Is the same thing happening over there? Thank heavens the phone is still working. I-”

“Slow down, Sam,” He says calmly, “It’s fine. It’ll probably come back on in a little bit.”

Sometimes my dad doesn’t seem to get the point. “MY OWN ANALOG WATCH ISN’T WORKING!”

“Well maybe the batteries just ran out. Could be a coincidence.” His voice sounds distant. It sounds likes he isn’t listening to me. I hear a man’s voice in the background call to my dad.

“Mr. Sampson, look at this.”

My dad swallows so loudly that I hear it over the phone. “Umm... Sam?”

“What?” I say, frustrated. My hands are sweating.

“I won’t be home until really late tonight, so I’ll see you tomorrow morning, okay?” A loud whirring sounds in the background, quickly rising in a crescendo.

“Dad-” “Gotta go, honey. See you tomorrow.” The phone clicks as he hangs up.

I slam the phone back onto the receiver. “UUGGHH!!!”

The electricity flickers back on. I hear the TV playing and my watch begins to tick again. “Weird,” I say to myself. I walk back to the living room and flip to the news station. Maybe they’ll have something about. When the reporter says nothing about it, I click the TV off and reach for the nearest phone.

It buzzes until I hear my friend pick up. “Hello?”

“Yasaman, it’s Sam,”

“Oh hi, Sam! Did you guys lose power for a little bit too?” Her voice sounds cheery, like she just came back from Disneyland and I can almost imagine her with a pair of Minnie Mouse ears on her head. Typical Yasaman.

“Yes, but-”

“Oh, it was cool. You know, just your average blackout right?” she says as-a-matter- of-factly.

“Yasaman!” I say loudly, “Was your water working?”

There’s a silence across the phone. “Umm...I didn’t really check. It’s not like I was sitting on the toilet when it happened.” She snickers.

I slap my forehead, “Well, mine didn’t. The sink wasn’t working and my watch also stopped working. I mean, what’s up with that?”

“Well....I don’t know. I don’t wear wristwatches. It could be aliens or something. Oh, that’s why you called me... Hah! What if it is aliens? That’s total proof that they exist. I think it said that in a couple of the books I have.” She sounds overly excited, “You know, there was even an episode in the Twilight Zone where everything stopped working too because aliens wanted to take over the world...or it could be a complete coincidence.”

“Really?” I say flatly, “What’s the chances of the water system failing at the same time as a blackout at the same time as my watch stopping?”

“I was just throwing it out there, Sam,” she says trailing off. “Wanna come over? I have some books on stuff like that. Plus, it’s a Saturday.”

“Dang, I forgot,” I mutter to myself. I hear her snicker. Maybe I said that a bit too loudly.

Yasaman hoots, “You forgot?! Jeez Sam! You’re not the kind of person to forget that it’s the weekend!”

She laughs and I hear her feet pounding against the floor. She quiets down after a minute and asks, “Is your dad okay with it?”

“Yes,” I say, although I’m not actually sure if he would be okay with it. “I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

“Sure, see you!”

“Bye.” I pull the phone away from my ear and put it down. I’m glad I have Yasaman as a friend. Actually, my only friend, I realize. Dismissing the thought, I bound upstairs to my closet and pull out a thick, black coat and flashlight before stepping out the front door.

I shove my hands in my fuzzy pockets, that I have a horrible feeling are made of rabbits, although the tag says it’s not, as I stroll in the darkness. The flashlight shines a dim light that allows me to see exactly half a foot in front of me, so I switch if off, resorting to the yellow street lights. I walk until I get to a crosswalk and look both ways.

I pause as hear a siren coming from the left. A fire truck zooms by with flashing lights. I watch it drive until it disappears around the bend and cross the road, pretending it is a dark river. The crickets chirp and sing their song. It’s way too loud. I gaze in the direction the fire truck went, vaguely wondering where it is going.

---

The porch lights of Yasaman’s house are already on as I step up to the “Welcome” mat and ring the doorbell. Loud footsteps echo from behind the door. It cracks open and I see Yasaman’s face poke out from behind it.

She swings the door all the way open and smiles. “Hi, Sam!” She beckons me with her slender arms to come in and closes the door behind me. She’s wearing blue and black pajamas already, and her damp hair, which is matted down, leaves a wet ring on the back of her shirt.

“MOM!!” She shouts. “SAM’S HERE!!!!”

“Okay!” I hear her mom’s muffled voice shout from upstairs.

My gaze shifts to the stairway. It always amazes me how steep they are and how people manage to walk without falling down. They’re solid wood too, so if you fall, you’re dead. Yasaman runs up them with ease. Her slightly frizzy hair bounces with each step. It reminds me of a rabbit somehow.

“You coming?” She says slyly.

Thankfully, I’m really good at climbing things, including her treacherous stairs. “Yeah.” I leap up as gracefully as she did.

“You know,” Yasaman says, “I’ve been reading a couple of the science books and the alien books I have....” She pauses, thinking about something.

“Yes?” I say, continuing to walk into her cluttered room.

“I don’t really think that it’s an alien spaceship or something. For one thing, it’s too obvious, and it would attract way too much attention. And, why would they shut off the power? I think it’s more of a military project or something.” Then she smiles, “Or it could be your father’s work.”

Her sarcasm is obvious, but I consider the idea for a moment. But that is way too far-fetched and I dump the thought. We walk into her messy room, which is painted in a neon pink that takes awhile for my eyes to adjust to, and literally start reading. I start going through a pile of books Yasaman has on her bed, while she googles things on the internet. There are more books on a gigantic bookcase, but she tells me to read the ones on her bed. I don’t complain because she’s got plenty there anyway. And I must add, she has way too many books on aliens and science. I silently put down the book I’m reading and start counting how many books she has on her bed. ( I don’t even bother counting the ones on the shelf.)

“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen...” I count to myself, “twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven...” I take a breath, “twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty...”

I’m in shock, “Thirty-one!” I say out loud. Yasaman looks at me, cocking her eyebrows, then turns back to the website she is looking at.

“...Oops,” I whisper, and go back to reading a book, a small smile on my face.

We research for an hour without success. I’ve gone through all of the books she has except for about five or six of them. We’ve definitely eliminated aliens as one of the possibilities for the cause of the strange “blackout”. I don’t tell her that none of her books are helping, but I do learn that many people think they see UFO’s on the fourth of July. I’ll remember to keep my eyes peeled on that date. I close the book I’m reading and get up, stretching my arms and legs.

“I’ll go now,” I yawn. “It’s getting kind of late.”

“Okay,” she agrees, shutting off her laptop and yawning. “Want me to walk you back?”

“Nah,” I say, shimmying my arms into my coat sleeve. “It’s close enough.”

I walk down the stairs without killing myself and wave bye to Yasaman. I step back into the chilly night and close the door behind me. I look at the flowers that hang on it. They look beautiful. It adds some beauty to her house. My finger brushes one of the petals of a yellow flower on the edge. I’ll grab some flowers on the way home and hang it on our door.

I take my time walking, taking in every detail. It seems so peaceful. The silhouettes of the trees are mysterious like they hide something, and the sky is clear, leaving me to see a bunch of stars. I know there are many more. I’ve seen more when we went to Hawaii once. But there’s more light pollution and smog here in California, so this is the most I probably will ever see. My feet make little taps against the pavement. It’s the only noise tonight. The crickets have stopped their singing and it seems that even they have gone to sleep. My breath is visible and I smile, then run the rest of the way back, feeling happy. For no reason. Forget the flowers. I don’t feel like it tonight.

---

I unlock the front door with the key that is hidden behind the doorbell. My dad came up with the idea. If you twist the doorbell panel a certain way, you can pull it off the wall and pull out the key from behind it. My dad is smart like that. He always thinks of clever ways to hide things. Once he hid my birthday present by cutting open a hole in his bed mattress, and shoving it inside. He sewed back on some fabric to make it appear that nothing had been done to the bed. Sadly, I happened to find it when my foot somehow caught on the fabric and ripped it off, revealing the wrapped up gift. To this day, I don’t think he knows I found it.

I return the key to its nest and click the panel back in. My lips curve into a wry smile and my thumb presses the small doorbell, leaving me to hear the faint chime from inside. I turn the doorknob and push it open. My fingers feel for the light switch and flick them on. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust from almost pitch black to bright lights. The house looks just the way I left it. Desolate. Just me home alone and a TV to entertain me. No dad. Across the room, the phone receiver blinks the number “1” in a bright red light. I pull off my coat and stroll over, lazily. I’ll let my dad check on it.

Flopping back onto the couch, I turn on the TV, where it begins showing the news channel. The headline reads in big letters “Breaking News”, and there is a short reporter wearing a funny hat who is standing in front of a building that appears to have been blown up and caught on fire. Smoke billows into the air in the background and firefighters swarm the mess with thick hoses. An ambulance stands by, and helps injured spectators. The sight makes me cringe.

“...Yes, Jean,“ He says into a microphone, “The building appears to have blown up, and as you can see here,” he motions to the wreck behind him. “It is almost impossible to tell what was here before the disaster struck. We do know, however, that this was a science laboratory where human life was studied. And it is confirmed that there are no survivors.”

I gasp as I recognize the location of the building. My dad’s workplace.

“The building caught fire almost an hour ago and exploded, throwing debris everywhere. The main concern of this right now, is if any hazardous chemicals remain in the wreck. No bodies were found,” Thank goodness. “but the force and heat of this explosion could have cremated the men and women inside.” Shoot. “We will be back for more live coverage in a few minutes. Reporting live from KTLA News, this is Jason Bridges. Back to you Jean.”

I don’t listen anymore. The voice of the reporter is muffled and my head is spinning. I sit and look back at the television. I continue to stare and then I glance at my watch after what seems like five minutes. 12:00.

My body shakes and turns to lie down on the couch. The cushions feel too soft. The TV is still running. My eyes are growing heavy, even though I fight to keep them open. The lights are still on: I better turn them off. I try to sit up, but my muscles are locked. I don’t know what to do.

My body gives in to a dreamless sleep.