Go to the YA Scavenger Hunt page to find out all about the hunt. There are TWO contests going on simultaneously, and you can enter one or all for a chance to win a whole different set of twenty-five signed books! I am a part of the RED TEAM–but there is also a blue team! Amazing – 2 teams!
If you’d like to find out more about the hunt, see links to all the authors participating, and see the full list of prizes up for grabs, go to the YA Scavenger Hunt homepage.
Cody paced the small space between his futon and the door, the worn floorboards creaking in protest beneath his boots. He didn’t know what the hell to do. He’d returned home from the hospital expecting to find Noa and Peter waiting for him. But his apartment was empty, just a leftover mess from breakfast that morning. They weren’t answering when he called the numbers for their new TracFones. And neither of them had left a message on his cell, he’d been compulsively looking every few minutes.
He had a bad feeling that they’d run off and done something insanely stupid. Like trying to check out one of those places where they might be keeping other kids. Cody kept dialing 911, but not pressing the button to complete the call. Because what would he even tell them? Where would he send them? Of course, it hadn’t occurred to him to ask Peter for the addresses–why would he, when they were all supposed to come up with a plan together? And whatever research they’d been doing was on Noa’s computer, because there was nothing in his desktop’s search history; he’d already checked.
Cody collapsed on the futon, his head in his hands, and then got back to his feet. He couldn’t stay still. He should have known better, he chastised himself. Should have recognized the look in Peter’s eyes. It was the same one Jeremy used to get before pranking someone.
At the thought of Jeremy, he nearly lost it. He’d promised that he would look after Peter, do his best to fill in for the big brother who wouldn’t be there anymore. And he’d failed.
A knock on his front door. Cody raced to answer it, turning all three dead bolts in rapid succession. As he yanked it open he said, “Thank God—”
And stopped. Because instead of Peter and Noa, three total strangers stood there. In the middle was a guy in an immaculate three-piece suit and wool overcoat. He looked like an investment banker. Flanking him were two huge men dressed all in black. They were crowded together on his landing.
The guy in the suit smiled thinly at him. “Mr. Ellis?”
“Yeah?” Cody asked. His hand had frozen on the knob, and dread filled the pit of his stomach. “Can I help you?”
“Did you drop off a blood sample at Boston Medical today?” the man asked.
Cody shrugged, fighting to keep his voice nonchalant. “I’m a med student there. They have me running around a lot of blood samples.”
“Not like this one,” the man said. “My name is Mason. It’s in your best interest to invite me in.”