to blow up !”
I am suddenly nostalgic for my brief period of deafness.
“The ship is not blowing up,” I tell her, rolling my eyes at her general retardation. “That’s the vacuum shield closing.”
“And that’s . . . good?” Carrie asks, putting her arms up to readjust her ponytail. Seriously, that girl needs to invest in a bra.
“The ship has fail-safe shielding in case of a hull breach,” I say. “It’ll keep the oxygen from leaking out too quickly, which should give us plenty of time to reach the escape pods.”
Other Cheerleader doesn’t seem as thrilled about this knowledge as I am. She sticks her hands on her hips and sneers at me. “What’d you do, like, memorize the manual?” She turns to Britta. “Where did this blubber butt even come from?”
From the other end of the hallway comes a meek “Excuse me,” and this quiet girl, Heather, rises shakily to her feet, pushing her bangs off her forehead. “I think you meant ‘ From where did this blubber butt even come?’” Other Cheerleader rounds on her with a face-melting glare, but Heather seems undaunted. “You shouldn’t end a sentence with a preposition,” she explains.“Actually”—she puts a hand on her midsize baby bump and begins to rub it thoughtfully—“it might be more accurate to use the word ‘whence.’ It’s a bit archaic but perfectly applicable in this instance. ‘ Whence did this blubber butt even—’”
“Um, Elvie?” Ramona says, pointing out the window. “Did you mean those escape pods?”
Well, shit.
There they are, out the window. Every single escape pod on the whole damn ship is launching straight to Earth, just the way they were meant to in an emergency. . .. Except, of course, for the minor problem of us not being on them.
I’m thinking that right about now would be a good time for some leadership from our saviors.
“Well, shit,” Cole says.
The pandemonium that erupts is overwhelming. The majority of the girls explode into wailing and chattering, and they clamor at the captain. The action hero does his best to get the screaming girls to calm down, but to no avail. Even Ramona looks a little shaken up. I haven’t heard her make a single ironic comment in, I don’t know, thirty whole seconds.
A hailstorm of überhelpful exclamations flies around the room.
“How are we going to get home ?”
“I want to call my dad!”
“We’re gonna die! We’re all gonna die !
“I want to call my lawyer!”
“What about my baby?”
“I want to call my dad’s lawyer!”
“Does your phone work? My phone’s not working. Howam I supposed to blink about this if my phone’s not working?”
For once Natty seems to be the sole voice of reason. “How did all the escape pods launch on their own?” she asks.
Cole squints his eyes, which is what he does when he’s thinking hard about something. I’ve seen him do it, like, twice. “Those pods should only activate manually,” he says. Shows what he knows.
“They could’ve been activated remotely from the bridge,” I inform him.
“Wait, what ?” Carrie screeches. And I think somehow her boobs get just a tad bigger when she’s freaked out. “How could that even happen?”
“Of all the days to wear my Jimmy Choos,” Other Cheerleader moans. “What was I even thinking of?”
Heather raises her hand. “Again,” she says, although clearly no one has called on her. “‘Of’ is a preposition. So you really shouldn’t end your—”
“Spare us the phonics lesson, freakazoid,” Britta snaps.
“Actually,” Heather squeaks, “it’s more grammar than phonics, but I can see where you’d get—”
That’s when Captain Overreaction aims his ray gun and fires a shot into the floor. The zip-crack! silences everyone.
“Enough!” he shouts at the cowed girls. “We need to get to the bridge and get our bearings. Find a way off this ship before the air runs out, or worse. Hopefully we can get a signal out from there too.” All
I am suddenly nostalgic for my brief period of deafness.
“The ship is not blowing up,” I tell her, rolling my eyes at her general retardation. “That’s the vacuum shield closing.”
“And that’s . . . good?” Carrie asks, putting her arms up to readjust her ponytail. Seriously, that girl needs to invest in a bra.
“The ship has fail-safe shielding in case of a hull breach,” I say. “It’ll keep the oxygen from leaking out too quickly, which should give us plenty of time to reach the escape pods.”
Other Cheerleader doesn’t seem as thrilled about this knowledge as I am. She sticks her hands on her hips and sneers at me. “What’d you do, like, memorize the manual?” She turns to Britta. “Where did this blubber butt even come from?”
From the other end of the hallway comes a meek “Excuse me,” and this quiet girl, Heather, rises shakily to her feet, pushing her bangs off her forehead. “I think you meant ‘ From where did this blubber butt even come?’” Other Cheerleader rounds on her with a face-melting glare, but Heather seems undaunted. “You shouldn’t end a sentence with a preposition,” she explains.“Actually”—she puts a hand on her midsize baby bump and begins to rub it thoughtfully—“it might be more accurate to use the word ‘whence.’ It’s a bit archaic but perfectly applicable in this instance. ‘ Whence did this blubber butt even—’”
“Um, Elvie?” Ramona says, pointing out the window. “Did you mean those escape pods?”
Well, shit.
There they are, out the window. Every single escape pod on the whole damn ship is launching straight to Earth, just the way they were meant to in an emergency. . .. Except, of course, for the minor problem of us not being on them.
I’m thinking that right about now would be a good time for some leadership from our saviors.
“Well, shit,” Cole says.
The pandemonium that erupts is overwhelming. The majority of the girls explode into wailing and chattering, and they clamor at the captain. The action hero does his best to get the screaming girls to calm down, but to no avail. Even Ramona looks a little shaken up. I haven’t heard her make a single ironic comment in, I don’t know, thirty whole seconds.
A hailstorm of überhelpful exclamations flies around the room.
“How are we going to get home ?”
“I want to call my dad!”
“We’re gonna die! We’re all gonna die !
“I want to call my lawyer!”
“What about my baby?”
“I want to call my dad’s lawyer!”
“Does your phone work? My phone’s not working. Howam I supposed to blink about this if my phone’s not working?”
For once Natty seems to be the sole voice of reason. “How did all the escape pods launch on their own?” she asks.
Cole squints his eyes, which is what he does when he’s thinking hard about something. I’ve seen him do it, like, twice. “Those pods should only activate manually,” he says. Shows what he knows.
“They could’ve been activated remotely from the bridge,” I inform him.
“Wait, what ?” Carrie screeches. And I think somehow her boobs get just a tad bigger when she’s freaked out. “How could that even happen?”
“Of all the days to wear my Jimmy Choos,” Other Cheerleader moans. “What was I even thinking of?”
Heather raises her hand. “Again,” she says, although clearly no one has called on her. “‘Of’ is a preposition. So you really shouldn’t end your—”
“Spare us the phonics lesson, freakazoid,” Britta snaps.
“Actually,” Heather squeaks, “it’s more grammar than phonics, but I can see where you’d get—”
That’s when Captain Overreaction aims his ray gun and fires a shot into the floor. The zip-crack! silences everyone.
“Enough!” he shouts at the cowed girls. “We need to get to the bridge and get our bearings. Find a way off this ship before the air runs out, or worse. Hopefully we can get a signal out from there too.” All
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