Michael Vey: Prisoner of Cell 25

Chapter 8: The Multimeter

As soon as I got inside the apartment building, I knocked on Ostin's door. He opened it, his face bent in disapproval. "So how's the cheerleader?" he asked snidely.

"I know you're mad you got left out."

"What did you do, make out?"

"Shut up, Ostin. Do you want to come over or not?"

It took him two seconds to get over it. "Yeah, wait." He ran back into his apartment, then returned carrying a small yellow-and-black device and a notepad and pen. "Let's start our tests."

As he was shutting his door, Ostin's mom shouted, "Where you going, Ostin?"

"I'm going to Michael's."

"Be careful," she said.

Ostin looked at me and shrugged. His mom was a little protective. Actually she was a lot protective. I'm surprised she didn't make him wear a helmet to clogging.

"We're having dinner soon. Ask Michael if he wants to eat with us."

He looked at me. "Want to eat with us? We're having fish sticks."

"No thanks." I hate fish sticks.

He turned back. "He's not going to eat with us."

"Dinner will be ready by seven. Don't be late."

"Okay."

He shut his door while I walked down the hall and unlocked my apartment. As soon as we were inside, Ostin opened his notebook and clicked his pen. "All right," he said, using the tone of voice he used when he was doing something scientific. "First things first. Today is Thursday, the fourteenth of April. How are you feeling?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"I want our experiment to be accurate, so try to be as specific as possible. Are you feeling more or less electric than usual?"

"I don't ever feel electric," I said.

"Okay. Usual," he said, scribbling in his notebook. "Weather is fair. I checked the barometer earlier and it's one thousand seventeen millibars and humidity is negligible." He brought the multimeter over to me, which looked a little like a fat calculator with cables attached. "Okay, clamp these on your fingers."

I looked at the clamps. "I'm not going to put those on my fingers. They're sharp."

"Do you want this to be accurate or not?"

I rolled my eyes. "Okay." I clamped the copper leads around my fingers. They bit into my skin.

"Now, don't do anything until I tell you."

"Just hurry. These things hurt."

"When I say 'go,' I want you to pulse with all your power. Five, four, three, two... wait."

"What?"

"I don't know. The screen on this thing just went blank." He pushed some buttons. "Okay. Four, three, two, one, go!"

I surged as hard as I could. The snap and crackle of electricity filled the room and there was a spark from my fingers to the clamps.

"Holy moley," Ostin said. He set down the multimeter and began writing in his notebook. "You produced eight hundred and sixty-four volts."

"That sounds like a lot."

"Dude, that's more than a full-grown electric eel. You could paralyze a crocodile with that." His eyes narrowed. "You could kill someone."