The Quillan Games by D.J. MacHale Read Free Book Online Page B

upset him even more. I was absolutely, totally frozen.
    â€œDaddy!” came a shout from across the arcade. It was a little kid’s voice. Both the bald guy and I looked to see a little girl running through the arcade with a huge smile. I was glad for the distraction. The little blond girl sprinted past some games with her arms wide open. She ran up to the guy who had just won the game and flung herself into his arms. The guy hugged her as if he hadn’t seen her in years. The woman who had been so happy for him joined in. I’m guessing she was the mommy. The three of them stood there for a long moment, hugging one another tightly while the spectators applauded. I figured the guy must have won something big. At least it had to be bigger than simply getting top score. But nobody official-looking came up with his winnings, or even to shake his hand. There didn’t seem to be any prize at all. I watched as the family walked off, followed by the others, who all shared happy knowing looks.
    â€œThank goodness,” the bald little guy said. I thought I saw a tear in his eye.
    I took a chance and asked, “So what’s the big deal about beating that game?”
    The bald guy snapped me a look as if I had just asked the most idiotic question in the history of idiotic questions. He still held on to my arms, which, to be honest, was making me nervous. The guy had a hell of a grip. I didn’t know if that was because he was strong, or driven by insanity. He looked at me in wonder, as if trying to find the right words to answer such a stupid question. He looked to my left arm and asked, “Where’s your loop?”
    â€œMy what?” he asked.
    â€œYour loop!” he said, looking at my upper arm. “Do youknow how much trouble you can get in for taking that off?” His face lit up as if he’d just gotten a brilliant idea. He asked, “Is that why you’re here? Did you learn something?”
    He kept asking questions and I kept not having answers. He let go of my arm and held his own arm out toward me. He had one of those silver bands above his biceps. “Tell me what you know,” he demanded. “Please.”
    I realized that this silver band must have been the “loop” he was talking about. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the one that had been at the flume. The guy’s eyes went wide. He quickly grabbed the loop and looked around as if he feared being seen.
    â€œAre you insane?” he seethed. “Don’t flash that around.”
    Before I knew what was happening, he grabbed the loop, then took my hand and shoved it through.
    â€œHey,” I protested, and tried to pull away. It was too late. He shoved the round bracelet all the way up to my biceps. Instantly I felt it tighten around my arm, as if it were alive. I tried to pull it back down, but it wouldn’t move. It rested just above my biceps and clung there.
    â€œWhy did you do that?” I shouted.
    â€œI helped you, now you help me” was his answer. “What are your chances? Be honest. It doesn’t matter to you if I know, does it?”
    â€œChances for what?” I asked while trying to pull the loop down my arm. It wouldn’t move. The harder I pulled, the tighter it squeezed. It felt like there were a thousand tiny needles inside, keeping it in place. I was frightened, and more than a little creeped out. What was this diabolical loop? How could it know that I was trying to pull it off so it knew to cling tighter? And why didn’t it want to get pulled off in the first place? Could it think like the robot-quig-spiders back at the gate? Things were happening a little too fast.
    â€œGet it off!” I shouted to the bald guy.
    His answer? He laughed. “I just did you a favor!” he said. “If you were seen without that loop, you’d never see another challenge.”
    Before I could ask what the hell he meant by that, I felt the loop