Read Online Project X-Calibur by Greg Pace - Free Book Online Page A

Dad used to do with me. “Until . . . Arthur came along.”
    Tyler leaned closer. “Then what happened?”
    â€œArthur became king after that. And
leader
of the—”
    I stopped when I spotted Malcolm standing in the bathroom doorway. He had changed into shorts and a T-shirt for bed, his wet hair combed back. For a moment I was struck by how much he looked like a young Pellinore.
    â€œLeader of the what?” he asked.
    â€œ. . . the knights.” And that’s when I spotted something on the wall under the window: a small control panel with buttons. I crossed the room.
    â€œAny idea what this is?” I wondered, running a finger over the panel.
    â€œTry pushing one of the buttons,” Kwan prodded, joining me.
    â€œNo way—” I began, but a hand reached between us and pushed one with no hesitation. It was Malcolm.
    â€œNo risk, no reward,” he said coolly, looking at me.
Challenging
me. I probably would have said something in return (something equally cool, I’m sure), but I was too busy gaping at the window. Instead of looking out at foggy London, we were now looking out at a dazzling beach. The sky was a vivid blue, and so was the ocean. In the distance, a group of dolphins was diving in and out of the water. The whisper of an ocean breeze and the relaxing
shu-sshhhh
of waves.
    â€œWhoa,” Tyler gawked. “Is that real?”
    â€œI don’t think so.” I pressed another button that had a little “up” arrow on it, and the view changed again. This time it was a desert, the pristine sand stretching for miles.
    â€œIt looks so real,” Kwan gaped. “You sure the entire HQ didn’t just teleport somewhere?”
    â€œOf course not,” Malcolm snapped, then hit another button, bringing us back to the original view of London.
    â€œ
This
is the only real view. The others are probably just a relaxation technique. I bet you’re going to need it, too.”
    â€œHow can you be sure the London view is real?” I challenged. “Maybe they’re
all
fake.”
    He sighed and jabbed a thumb at the glass. “I walk those streets every day, remember?”
    Oh. Yeah.
    â€œWell, at least we have something to look at now,” Kwan grumbled, then jumped onto his bed again so he could reach one of the large countdown clocks. “If you ask me, Mr. P. is cuckoo about these countdown clocks. I’m surprised he didn’t have them installed on the insides of our eyelids, so we’d see them in our sleep.”
    â€œI’m sure he considered it,” I muttered.
    Malcolm got into bed. “Lights out,” he announced.
    Kwan reeled as if punched. “No offense, bro—but who made you camp counselor?”
    â€œYou heard what Pellinore said. Tomorrow’s going to be busy. It’s either lights out in here or I’m going to ask for my own room. I intend to be at my best tomorrow.”
    The three of us exchanged a look. He had a point. Five minutes later, we were all in our beds. Even with the curtains closed and the lights off, the two large countdown clocks bathed us in an unsettling red glow. My brain swirled with a million different thoughts. The next few days were going to be tough enough without being under a microscope because of my connection to Merlin.
Why
had Merlin chosen me, anyway? Why would
any
kids be chosen to defend the world?
    I looked to my nightstand, where I had placed the framed photo I brought from home. Me, Mom, and Dad. Smiling. Like it was another lifetime. I turned my focus to the countdown clock on the opposite wall instead, watching the seconds as they ticked down. Forty-two seconds. Forty-one seconds . . . forty seconds . . .
    When sleep finally came, I dreamed that I was standing in the atrium of HQ. But it was eerily deserted.
    â€œHello?” I called out, but the only answer was my voice echoing back to me a dozen times. Two