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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Take The Plunge
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WHEN YOU LIVE IN A world where aliens, superheroes, gods, and even magic have become commonplace, it's difficult to find something that surprises you. Even the Average Joe—a forty-something with a wife, kids, and a fairly mundane job—will scarcely blink when it's announced on television that flying robots are attacking Capitol Hill or a group of girls fell from the sky. A flying octopus or boy with glowing eyes will launch past the window in the office, and Mr. Joe will just yawn and go back to his paperwork. It's not like it was ten years ago, when the most exciting thing that ever happened was Tony Stark coming out as Iron Man. Nor is it even like six years ago, when Loki and his Chitauri army laid siege to New York City. Everything has become its own strange normal now, and you can't live in a world like that without desensitizing yourself to a lot of things real fast.
But despite this, despite everything the world had seen in the past decade, no one was prepared for the day the alien ship touched down on Earth. Not because it was alien—that had been seen before, after all. It was because what came next would affect everyone, no matter who they were. No matter what corners of the Earth they fled to.
In the future, it would become one of those days immortalized in history books. People would ask you where you were when everything went down—because, of course, you had to make it about yourself. They were at the barber, they'd say. Or in the shower, the water still spilling down their body. Or in the arms of their lover, looking up to the sky with wide-eyed horror.
If Cecelia was asked? Well, she'd have to say she was on the school bus.
Her backpack sat between her legs, bouncing every time the bus ran over a pothole. Her legs were crossed, one over the other, showcasing the red Converse that replaced her usual boots. A light green T-shirt was tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans, with a last-minute red bomber jacket thrown over it. Her hair had been pulled into a ponytail that trickled over one shoulder, revealing the whole of her slightly acne-riddled face. Her eyes were firmly trained down on the cellphone in one hand, ignoring the background conversations of her peers.
Her thumb swiped, swiped, swiped across her screen, only half paying attention to its contents. The other half was trying to focus on Christine, who was currently attempting to plan her sixteenth birthday party. It was coming up in a few weeks, and Mrs. Warren had been insistent on making it a big deal. Christine had already invited the entire Academic Decathlon Team—including Ned, who she was now friends with again after the Homecoming debacle last year—and everyone in Robotics club. Now she was wondering if she should invite the football team—she knew some of the players, after all, and would they be mad at her if she didn't invite them? She really didn't want to hurt any of their feelings.
