Lab 6 Read Online Free PDF Page A

ultimate self-boredom technique.
    Click.
    His parents’ bedroom door opened.
    Sam’s body tensed.
    Dad was walking up to the tower room. Sam recognized the heaviness of the step, even though Dad was tiptoeing.
    The light.
    Had Jamie left it on?
    The notebook.
    It was still under Sam’s mattress.
    Sam broke into a sweat. What if Dad looked for the notebook and realized it wasn’t there?
    What if the Undelete utility’s exit screen was on? What if it hadn’t worked? What if some of Dad’s files were still missing?
    Did I get them all back?
    Sam hadn’t double-checked.
    Now he could hear thumping from upstairs.
    Dad was heading down again, walking toward Sam’s room.
    His hand turned the doorknob.
    Sam quickly shut his eyes, still lying on his back.
    He saw what happened and he’s coming to yell at me.
    Dad was making as little noise as possible, tiptoeing across the room. But not toward Sam.
    The closet door opened. Sam heard the sliding and clacking of wire hangers.
    Carefully he let his eyes open. Only to a slit.
    Dad was slipping back out through Sam’s door. He was holding a plaid flannel shirt that Sam hadn’t worn in months.
    On tiptoe, Dad headed down the hall.
    A moment of silence, and then the front door opened and closed.
    Sam slipped out of bed. Staying low, he moved to the window and peeked over.
    His dad was climbing into the car. Rushing. Shoving a briefcase inside. Suddenly he looked to Sam’s room.
    Sam ducked.
    A moment later, he heard the car roar off into the night.

OUR MISSION IS …
    Where is he?
    We’ve lost him.

8
    “H ELLLLP ME …”
    The voice. Again.
    I’m back in time. Hiding in the stairwell. Bart is somewhere close by. Losing my trail.
    (YOU FELL ASLEEP. YOU’RE DREAMING. THIS IS NOT REAL.)
    I feel it again.
    The headache. The FEELING —
    Something’s inside me.
    Pushing. Trying to get out.
    GO. THERE’S NOT ENOUGH ROOM HERE.
    (Wake up, Sam. WAKE UP.)
    “He-e-e-elllllp!”
    The voice has moved.
    MOVED? HOW? WHERE?
    It’s not behind the basement window anymore.
    It’s outside.
    In the darkness.
    In the streets outside Turing-Douglas.
    I stand up. I have to follow it.
    I have to find out who it is.
    (NO!)
    My legs are weak. Loose and elastic.
    I hold on to the banister and somehow make it to the top of the stairwell.
    I don’t know WHY I want to follow the voice. I don’t know why I’m not running away (BECAUSE YOU’RE A FOOL), but I have to.
    The feeling is strengthening. I can barely put one foot in front of the other.
    “He-e-e-elllllp me …”
    The voice is beckoning me further into the alleyways (IT’S A TRAP), the buildings around me are swelling and contracting like big, dark jellyfish — and the eyes, the eyes are watching, piercing the darkness, but I follow t he street maze and then I’m at the gate and suddenly I’m walking toward home.
    But the voice is still with me. I sense it.
    (TURN AWAY OR YOU’LL BE SORRY!)
    I realize my legs aren’t moving. They’re locked. I’m being pulled now. I’m floating, my entire body rigid and helpless.
    “WHO ARE YOU?”
    I’m shouting but somehow the words stay inside my head as I sail through the town … through my neighborhood …
    Then I’m in front of my house. And I suddenly turn up the walkway.
    The voice is calling from inside.
    “HE-E-E-ELLLLP!”
    It’s deafening.
    It’s beyond sound.
    It’s a total-body sensation. As if someone is twanging a taut string that runs from my head to my ankles.
    But I keep going. Because I can’t stop myself.
    I need to see who’s calling me. The voice has something to do with the feeling in my head. If I find who’s yelling, maybe the feeling will stop.
    I’m in the house now. Mom and Dad are nowhere to be seen. The shouting has saturated the air; it’s in the walls, making everything vibrate. And soon it’s in me, too, and now I’m calling for help — my voice joining the other — as I reach the bottom of the stairs.
    (NO)
    The voice is coming from this