My Cardboard Balcony

My Demonstration Of Volcanoes by Belinda Roddie My demonstration of volcanoes knocked the school principal off her feet, nearly killing her, and cries rang out like the clocks going, "Cuckoo!" The possibility that I would be suspended, however, dwindled when the superintendent clapped and laughed, yelling, "Bravo!" with such a slur that I thought that he might be drunk. The staff surrounded the fallen principal as I tried to disappear behind the booths of the science fair, just to have the class clown stride up to me, his canine still loose. "Dude," he said, wiggling his tooth, "that was so awesome! Remember - next time, more play-doh."

They took us to the hidden compound, and they left us in window-less rooms with our hands cuffed behind our backs. We weren't sure if the Trinity had also been captured, but in the end, we were in the hands of the United Nation of Supremacy's military. And that was fifteen kinds of bad. Struggling to prop myself against a wall, I ignored the pain in both my tied wrists and sore back. Beside me, my partner was half-asleep. Feverish.