The Silver Sphere Read Free Page A

up the winding drive to the front
door.
    The spare key hid behind his mother's pot of azaleas. He fished
it out and unlocked the door, carefully replacing the key before he went inside.
The moment he entered the house, he wished he'd gone around back.
    "No, I don't have a clue where your special mug is!
Just use another one!"
    "You're the one who always puts everything away! Where'd
you place the dang thing?"
    "I didn't put it anywhere ! I bet you left it upstairs!
Did you even check?"
    Zach rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. He began to ease
his way up the flight of elegant wooden steps when his mother shouted, "Zach,
is that you?"
    "Oh, smart, Sharon. Get the boy involved!"
    "He might know where your stupid mug is!"
    Zach retreated down into the kitchen. The tiled floor and marble
countertops made the room feel cold. Even the dark wood of the cabinets didn't help
warm the kitchen. He shivered.
    "Hi, I'm here."
    His mother stood with hands on hips. "Zach, where were you?"
    "Adrian got beat up. I walked him home."
    And, as usual, it went in one ear and out the other. "That's
nice. Where's your father's mug?"
    "I don't know. Didn't you hear me?"
    "Of course."
    Zach rubbed his temples and muttered, "You never listen."
    "Zachy, if you know where my mug is, speak up," said
his father, who patrolled the counter, tearing through the cupboards. "And,
Sharon, be a dear and make me a snack. Some of those marshmallow treats?"
    "Oh, and while I'm at it, should I wash your car?"
Her voice rose in pitch.
    Zach backed out of the kitchen. By the time they were both screaming,
he had whipped out the back door and dashed to the guesthouse. The French doors
beckoned him, promising to keep him safe from the tension of his family life. He
trooped inside, locked the door, and breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could be
a normal kid.
    His computer—not the ones his parents used, but his , the
one he had scrimped and saved for about three years ago—hummed happily on his desk.
He slipped into the comfortable chair and switched the monitor on. The computer
chimed to life. Once the loading screen had gone, he accessed the chat. Maybe Adrian
would be online. He really wanted to talk to someone.
    The sound of clanging swords made him jump. A message popped
up.
    YOU ARE NEEDED.
    Zach paused. For such a small dialogue box on his computer, the
brief text shouted in capital letters. Why did it appear so different from the usual
exchanges? Had Adrian or another friend discovered some new technique? It couldn't
be from his foster parents. Sometimes they messaged him after calming down, to coax
him back inside for dinner—if they remembered he existed.
    No, they were still shouting.
    Mouth agape, he stared at the note: YOU ARE NEEDED.
    The box flashed on his screen, awaiting a response. How curious.
A joke from his friends? If it was Adrian, he would play along—or maybe not. He
was tired of games right now. Zach typed in, " Who is this? " and
sent it back.
    A brief silence intensified the next loud bang. The jangle made
Zach's skin crawl. Never before had an instant messenger ring resounded with such
violence. The noise conveyed something unearthly in the dialogue box.
    In a different world and another time,
    your alter ego will brilliantly shine.
    You and others just like him
    are very close to next of kin.
    These heroes gone and evil hissing,
    the sphere's power is now missing.
    The balance is quickly shifting.
    Please heed our call for help.
    Zach read the rhyme twice, and goose bumps raced over his skin.
His conviction grew surer. Adrian had to be playing around with him. He and his
friends would tease each other on instant message now and again—except the box offered
no identity.
    The queasy unease in his stomach worsened. His hands shook a
little as he typed." How can I help? "
    The clang sounded the arrival of another memo.
    Step outside and find us waiting.
    Promptly now, as we are fading.
    He swiveled in his chair. A noise he couldn't