in the world?
The funeral procession ended, and Reverend Niblocke, probably in an attempt to get away from Natalie, asked everyone to be seated. Ian dragged his sister over to the row behind Amy and Dan, trying to remain close to them.
“Well, any success?” Ian asked his sister.
“No,” Natalie replied in a huff. “He has a border collie named Moses, but that’s all I got.”
Ian snickered.
“Shut up!” Natalie said. “Loads of help you were. All you could do was stare at that fashion tragedy show, Amy and Dan. Now we have to sit behind them.” She shuddered. “I hope we don’t catch something.”
As they took their seats, Ian noticed an African American woman in the row behind them, dressed in a black sweaterdress, which was pilly and bookish looking. A floral silk scarf around her neck added some color, but her glasses didn’t even have designer frames.
It’s frightening, the kind of riffraff that sneak into these things
, Ian thought. But then Amy flicked her reddish-brown hair over her shoulder from the seat in front of him as she blew her nose, and Ian snapped back to reality. It was time to focus. Everything he’d been training for — all the plans the Lucians had spent centuries scheming — it all led up to this.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the surprisingly fragrant colonial air. It was a beautiful day for world domination.
Mummy will be so proud!
Jonah Wizard sat down in the front row and waved to his fans across the grave plot. A group of girls over there was going gaga for him. They all had on Wizard tees from his last concert in Toronto (the bedazzled special-edition ones) and had drawn his tag sign on their cheeks in black eyeliner — funeral appropriate. Jonah smiled his best gangsta smile at the girls.
I have the most dedicated fan base ever.
“Dad.” Jonah turned to his father in the seat beside him. “Make sure those girls get third-anniversary Jonah Wizard mugs, okay?”
“Mugs.” Broderick Wizard tapped into his BlackBerry. “Got it!”
Jonah looked back to the crowd, searching for Amy and Dan Cahill. Everyone knew they were Grace’s favorites. She had probably given them inside information. Jonah had to find a way to take care of those little nobodies before they could take advantage of their head start.
But where were they?
“Son,” Jonah’s dad interrupted his thoughts, “did you call the producer of The
Really Late Show
back? They want to have you on for
Gangsta Life
.”
“Book it for me,” Jonah answered distractedly, scanning the crowd.
There must have been over four hundred people at the funeral. Jonah knew crowds. He was the world’s biggest pop/hip-hop star under age seventeen. He’d been filling sports stadiums, amphitheaters, and mega music halls since he was twelve years old. This many people in one place invigorated him. But why more people at the funeral weren’t noticing him confused Jonah a bit. Didn’t they know his new album,
Gangsta Life
, had
just premiered at number three on the French music charts?
Then he spotted Amy and Dan. Amy was in a black dress with a little collar that kept flapping up against her cheek in the breeze. But she didn’t seem to care. She just kept staring ahead with a blank look on her face. And Dan was slumped over in his chair, kind of leaning against Amy. Even though they needed a major upgrade in the swagger department, Jonah knew he had to keep an eye on them. He might be the most talented performer of his age, but if his mom was right, he was about to get the chance to become something
much
bigger. He wasn’t gonna risk it over a couple of kids who couldn’t even rhyme a couplet if the beat hit ’em on the head!
During the service, Rev. Niblocke kept glancing over at the Kabras, then back down at his watch. Sweat dripped from his forehead.
Man
,
someone should teach him about stage presence.
Jonah thought.
Grace would have been asleep by now, if she weren’t already dead!
Jonah had to
The funeral procession ended, and Reverend Niblocke, probably in an attempt to get away from Natalie, asked everyone to be seated. Ian dragged his sister over to the row behind Amy and Dan, trying to remain close to them.
“Well, any success?” Ian asked his sister.
“No,” Natalie replied in a huff. “He has a border collie named Moses, but that’s all I got.”
Ian snickered.
“Shut up!” Natalie said. “Loads of help you were. All you could do was stare at that fashion tragedy show, Amy and Dan. Now we have to sit behind them.” She shuddered. “I hope we don’t catch something.”
As they took their seats, Ian noticed an African American woman in the row behind them, dressed in a black sweaterdress, which was pilly and bookish looking. A floral silk scarf around her neck added some color, but her glasses didn’t even have designer frames.
It’s frightening, the kind of riffraff that sneak into these things
, Ian thought. But then Amy flicked her reddish-brown hair over her shoulder from the seat in front of him as she blew her nose, and Ian snapped back to reality. It was time to focus. Everything he’d been training for — all the plans the Lucians had spent centuries scheming — it all led up to this.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the surprisingly fragrant colonial air. It was a beautiful day for world domination.
Mummy will be so proud!
Jonah Wizard sat down in the front row and waved to his fans across the grave plot. A group of girls over there was going gaga for him. They all had on Wizard tees from his last concert in Toronto (the bedazzled special-edition ones) and had drawn his tag sign on their cheeks in black eyeliner — funeral appropriate. Jonah smiled his best gangsta smile at the girls.
I have the most dedicated fan base ever.
“Dad.” Jonah turned to his father in the seat beside him. “Make sure those girls get third-anniversary Jonah Wizard mugs, okay?”
“Mugs.” Broderick Wizard tapped into his BlackBerry. “Got it!”
Jonah looked back to the crowd, searching for Amy and Dan Cahill. Everyone knew they were Grace’s favorites. She had probably given them inside information. Jonah had to find a way to take care of those little nobodies before they could take advantage of their head start.
But where were they?
“Son,” Jonah’s dad interrupted his thoughts, “did you call the producer of The
Really Late Show
back? They want to have you on for
Gangsta Life
.”
“Book it for me,” Jonah answered distractedly, scanning the crowd.
There must have been over four hundred people at the funeral. Jonah knew crowds. He was the world’s biggest pop/hip-hop star under age seventeen. He’d been filling sports stadiums, amphitheaters, and mega music halls since he was twelve years old. This many people in one place invigorated him. But why more people at the funeral weren’t noticing him confused Jonah a bit. Didn’t they know his new album,
Gangsta Life
, had
just premiered at number three on the French music charts?
Then he spotted Amy and Dan. Amy was in a black dress with a little collar that kept flapping up against her cheek in the breeze. But she didn’t seem to care. She just kept staring ahead with a blank look on her face. And Dan was slumped over in his chair, kind of leaning against Amy. Even though they needed a major upgrade in the swagger department, Jonah knew he had to keep an eye on them. He might be the most talented performer of his age, but if his mom was right, he was about to get the chance to become something
much
bigger. He wasn’t gonna risk it over a couple of kids who couldn’t even rhyme a couplet if the beat hit ’em on the head!
During the service, Rev. Niblocke kept glancing over at the Kabras, then back down at his watch. Sweat dripped from his forehead.
Man
,
someone should teach him about stage presence.
Jonah thought.
Grace would have been asleep by now, if she weren’t already dead!
Jonah had to
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