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we rushed downstairs, I stuffed the framed picture into the duffel bag.
    When we reached the landing, her eyes turned glassy. “Call me every night before bed, and in the morning, too, when you wake up. And maybe also at lunch. Call the diner if I’m not home. You have the number, right?”
    â€œYes, Mom. I’ve called it a million times,” I groaned. As I hugged her fiercely, I took in the sight of our tiny den. It wasn’t much to look at, but there were a ton of memories in that room.
Am I insane to be leaving like this? If the end of mankind is just six days away, am I making a mistake by not spending these final days with Mom?
    Two more quick honks came from outside.
    Mom and I turned to the front door. “That Pellinore said the driver would see to it that you got on the plane safely. And he said someone would be waiting for you when you land in London, too,” Mom said a little breathlessly.
    I nodded, afraid that if I spoke, she would hear how nervous I was. This was really happening. I was about to leave home for the first time in my entire life.
    â€œMaybe I should come to the airport with you—” Mom began, but I shook my head.
    â€œI’ll be fine, Mom, I swear.”
    She gave me an almost helpless look, then grabbed me again for another hug.
    â€œThis is all so sudden,” she said as she held me tight, her voice shaky.
    Tell me about it.
    She released me, so I grabbed my duffel and opened the screen door, making my way outside before she could protest. I had already rushed to the limo by the time she stepped outside and onto the porch.
    I yanked open the limo’s side door, threw my bag onto the back passenger seat, then looked to the front to see the little kid sitting behind the wheel. He was sitting on a stack of books, to be able to see over the dashboard.
    â€œYou gotta be kidding me,” I hissed.
    â€œGet in.” He motioned urgently.
“Fast.”
    I jumped into the limo and rolled my window down to wave good-bye to Mom before turning back to him. “Are you sure you can drive?”
    â€œBelt up. Safety first!” he said cheerfully.
    As we drove off, I turned and looked through the back window at Mom, still rooted to our porch. And then, as we turned a corner, she was gone.
    I suspected that the life I had always known was gone, too, for better or worse.

6
    137:46:02
    THE SOUNDS of the city exploded in my eardrums.
    â€œWelcome to London,” the kid said, letting go of my hand. Teleporting was getting easier to handle, but I still swayed as I fought off the dizziness.
    We were standing in the mouth of an alley, looking out onto a grim gray sky and a cramped London street. Cars crawled down two narrow lanes as they passed us; a black cab stopped suddenly for a businessman in a long coat. Behind them, skinny brick houses stood squished together, their tightly packed storefronts advertising everything from souvenirs to fish-and-chips to discounted night tours through haunted London (“For a Jolly Good Fright!”). People were everywhere, talking in British accents. My hand tightened around the handles of Dad’s duffel bag. When everyone around you suddenly sounds nothing like you do, it’s a little weird.
    â€œFollow me,” the kid instructed. “We’re already late.”
    Buildings crowded in on either side of us, the bricks stained and cracked, the ground littered with garbage. There was an angry hiss as I sidestepped a street cat foraging for food.
    â€œHere we are.” The kid sighed happily as we arrived at a battered door covered in graffiti.
    â€œ
This
is the Royal Academy of Science? Not very royal-looking.”
    â€œThat was just a ruse for the parents. This is Headquarters.” The kid looked left and right (as if anyone else would want to come down this stink-hole alley) and pressed a finger against a nearby brick. A perfect line of small light beams shot out from the doorway,