Project X-Calibur Read Online Free Page B

that?”
    Uh . . .
    â€œHe might have mentioned it,” I lied. The kid had made me promise at least three times that I would play along.
Billions of lives are at stake,
he had cautioned.
    â€œThe winners are being flown to London, all expenses paid, to participate in a weeklong convention. You really knew nothing about this, Ben?” Hands on her hips again. Not a good sign. She was irked.
    â€œWell . . . I knew
something
about it, but I couldn’t be sure it was real, so . . . I didn’t mention it.”
    Not entirely a lie that time,
I convinced myself.
    â€œIt’s definitely real,” she insisted. She pulled out the envelope’s contents. “In fact, he said a car is on its way here right now to take you to the airport . . .” She trailed off and stared wide-eyed at the paper in her hands.
    â€œWhat is it?” I asked, and she handed it to me without a word. I leaned against the kitchen counter again—otherwise I might have passed out right there on the faded yellow linoleum.
    It was a check made out to me, Benjamin Stone, for TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS.
    â€œBut . . . what . . . how . . . ” I stammered. My shock quickly gave way to exhilarating visions of me running into the nearest electronics store and buying the biggest TV they had, then driving it home in a new sports car that would make Todd’s precious pickup truck look like it belonged atop a trash heap.
    Mom hungrily examined the rest of the envelope.
    â€œIt’s your prize,” she read. “According to this, it’s meant to start a college fund for you.”
    Oh.
Good-bye, mega-TV and sports car, you were nice while you lasted.
    â€œWho exactly did you talk to just now?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
    â€œSomething Pellinore. I wasn’t prepared for that accent of his. I figured it was just someone playing a prank at first. His first name was something with a P,” Mom said. “Yes.
Peter Pellinore.
”
    The name sounded
familiar.
    â€œOh my!” Mom suddenly cried, giving me a jolt. “I have to pack you a bag!” She raced out of the kitchen. A split second later I heard stomping around upstairs.
    â€œI guess that means I can go,” I said to the empty kitchen.
    I went upstairs to find Mom dashing back and forth between my room and the hallway closet. In her hand she held Dad’s old duffel bag from work.
    â€œI’ve got socks, underwear, extra jeans, a few shirts,” Mom rattled off as she whizzed past me. “Just make sure you unpack as soon as you get there so the clothes aren’t wrinkled. I don’t want you looking like you live in a gutter.”
    â€œSure thing, Mom—”
    â€œOh, and you’ll need a jacket. I think it gets cold in England.” She looked up as if pulling thoughts out of the ceiling. “And it rains! Oh no, do you know where the umbrella is?!”
    She was seriously losing it.
    I rolled my eyes. “They’ll probably have umbrellas there, don’t you think?”
    She stopped to bite at her lower lip, nodded quickly, and said, “Maybe you’re right.” She whirled away again, disappearing into the bathroom.
    I looked to my right and saw that the door to Mom and Dad’s bedroom was open. Since Mom usually slept on the couch downstairs now, the master bedroom had become something of a museum. I stepped inside and picked up a framed photo of me, Mom, and Dad. It was taken a couple of years ago on Dad’s birthday, when we took him out to dinner at his favorite steakhouse. The three of us had never looked happier. Would we have smiled like that if we had known what the future had in store for us?
    Mom stood in the doorway, holding the duffel bag all zipped up and ready to go. “Can I take this picture with me?” I asked softly.
    She swallowed a lump in her throat just as a car horn honked outside. As