The Improbable Theory of Ana and Zak Read Online Free Page B

yawns, stretches, and looks in my direction. Everyone on the bus except Ana is listeningto me. I pour it on, only exaggerating a bit. “Two years ago, the Lovecraftians tried to summon Hastur in the boiler room. And when they turned the lights back on, one of the guys in the circle was gone !” I don’t mention that two purses and a laptop vanished with him.
    â€œOne time this guy proposed to his girlfriend with an alien that ripped out of his chest. And she said yes! And my friend James swears that Bill Murray cornered him in a hotel hallway, yanked the pizza he was carrying out of his hands, said, ‘No one will ever believe you,’ and walked off.”
    Blond Guy looks impressed. “So why did you come here instead?”
    I ignore him, continuing to spin tales, many of which sort of happened at one time or another. The catfight between a Lady Galadriel and Harley Quinn, versus another Galadriel and a female Pippin. The time I had to share a bed with Sailor Moon (her boyfriend slept between us, but still).
    Eventually, we begin to slow down for the Seattle gridlock. Everyone returns to their seats. Clayton still stares at me. His eyes are wide. I hope I’ve managed to shock him just a little bit.
    â€œDuke, where did you say this event was?”
    â€œRight here in Seattle. At the convention center.”
    I lean back in my seat and put in my earbuds to endthe conversation. Just as the narrator begins chapter seventeen of Snow Crash , I hear Clayton mumble something.
    â€œFascinating.”

ANA
1:30 PM
    â€œSeventeen over negative pi,” says Clayton. He has not touched the scratch paper in front of him.
    â€œCorrect,” replies the judge, trying to hide the slightly shocked edge in his voice. Another ten points for Meriwether Lewis High School.
    â€œWhich exiled Russian leader was assassinated in 1940, in Mexico City?”
    Landon buzzes in excitedly. “Who is Leon Trotsky?”
    â€œCorrect. And may I remind you once again, you do not have to answer in the form of a question.”
    â€œSorry.”
    For our opponents, the ending buzzer must soundmerciful. We’re ahead by nearly one hundred points. They mutter their congratulations and ashamedly gather their things.
    I smile at my brother. “Great work, Clayton.”
    He blushes and ducks his head. “It was a team effort,” he mumbles.
    I glance at my two other teammates as they take sips of bottled water and prepare for the next round. It’s true—we are pretty formidable. Landon, the history and government expert. Sonya, who knows everything about the life sciences and language. Me, with my decent handle on the humanities and arts. But Clayton . . . science and math were his strong points, but honestly, he could probably take on any team single-handedly. I give him a playful punch on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off his stool. If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have a team.
    Across the room, I see the one weak link in our chain: Deadweight Duquette. Instead of doing some last-minute cramming like the other alternates waiting in the audience, he’s found another lazy person and is playing cards with him. Their game has all the sleazy dignity of a backroom poker game.
    I walk over to his table to grab my phone. (That’s one thing we can trust him to do: watch our bags.) I know my irritation with him is pointless—after all, he’s only an alternate. Still, I don’t like the idea of someone on thisteam who was obviously here against his will.
    Just as I fish my phone out of my purse, Zak’s opponent wanders off. He instantly turns to me.
    â€œHey, Ana, good show there.”
    â€œYes, Zak.”
    His eyes narrow. I remember how he’d introduced himself as Duke. I hope that using his real name annoys him.
    â€œYour little bro was kicking some ass up there. He’s like a mini Brainiac.”
    I turn on my phone. “Yes.”
    â€œI’m