Read Online Paraworld Zero by Matthew Peterson - Free Book Online Page A

clank.
        “Oops,” Tonya said, looking at the convertible she had just made. “I didn’t
mean to do that. I was just trying to pick the lock.”
        She climbed over the door and hopped into the driver’s seat. The inside of
the car was decked out with speakers, a DVD-equipped television, voice-activated controls, and a
top-of-the-line global positioning system.
        “Get in.”
        “We shouldn’t be doing this,” Simon whined.
        Ignoring him, Tonya placed her paratransmitter onto the leather seat next to
her and tapped the steering wheel with her wand. The car jumped ferociously as if it were
alive.
        “ Please fasten your seat belts, ” the computer system prompted.
        “Thank you,” Tonya said. She put on her seat belt and turned to look at
Simon. A group of soldiers had found them. “Get in, Simon!”
        With little time remaining, Simon leapt headfirst into the back seat of the
car. Tonya slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The sports car lurched forward and sped off down
the street like a rabbit in heat.
        “Don’t worry, Simon,” she called back to the boy being tossed around. “I
watched real closely when Abu was driving us.”
        “ AAAH!” Simon yelled as she veered to the side and bumped into a parked car. “That’s just
what we need: driving lessons from a cab driver!” He fumbled with the seat belt, but it wouldn’t
fasten.
        “Wow, this isn’t as easy as it looks,” she said, stopping the vehicle three
times in quick succession.“No wonder a car smashed into the rock cafe.”
        Simon rolled his eyes. He pictured in his mind the ornamental car that used
to protrude from the previous Hard Rock Cafe building.
        Tonya moved slowly into the flow of traffic. “You know, I must admit, I
didn’t see any rocks in the cafe, soft or hard.”
        Suddenly, a person dressed in a dark overcoat hopped into the back seat of
the convertible.
        “How’s it going, punk?” Butch asked menacingly.
        Tonya gasped at seeing the young man in the rearview mirror. By this time,
she had merged fully into the stream of traffic and was too scared to slow down or take her hands
off the wheel. Haphazardly, she wove in and out of her lane, nearly hitting an 18-wheel diesel
truck.
        “Butch, what are you doing here?” shouted Simon over the roar of the
engine.
        “I just happened to be in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d drop in.”
        The sound of police sirens filled their ears as the wheels of the car
squealed through a red light. The digital voice warned, “ You are approaching a street light. ”
        “You’re a little slow, car,” Tonya teased.
        “ Caution, you are driving twenty-seven miles per hour over the speed limit, ” the car
retorted.
        “Keep driving,” Butch said.
        “What do you want from us?” Tonya cried. She brushed several long strands of
red hair out of her face.
        Butch grabbed a handful of curly hair and pulled the frightened girl to the
back of her seat. “I want that transmitter thing you’ve got,” he said coldly in her ear. Tonya
strained to reach the gas pedal, but Butch held her back. The sports car began to slow
down.
        “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she screamed.
        “Don’t lie to me,” Butch spat. “I heard you talking about it when you were
hiding in the dumpster.”
        With her back pressed against the seat, Tonya could barely hold onto the
steering wheel. The car swerved into the opposing lane.
        Tonya struggled to free herself from Butch’s grasp.
“Let—go—of—me!” She released the steering wheel entirely and pointed her wand behind her.
A sparkling stream of light shot out of the wand and missed Butch’s head by inches. He let go of
her hair.
        She forced the car back into the