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305 pages, Hardcover
First published February 25, 2014
The woman pauses dramatically. “I’d like to officially welcome you to the Brimstone Bleed. May the bravest Contender win.”Wait, what?
“Put this on your shirt.”Well, isn't that just fucking special?
It’s a small gold serpent pin, and it’s fairly heavy.
Holding the box to my lips, I tell it, “You’re mine, precious. All mine.”The box holds a device the size of a hearing aid with a blinking red button. Tella pushes it, this message plays:
“If you’re hearing this message, you are invited to be a Contender in the Brimstone Bleed. All Contenders must report within forty-eight hours to select their Pandora companions.”Tella doesn't fucking know who left her the message. She doesn't know how the box got there. Her parents are trying to hide the box from her, to the extent of literally setting the box on fire.
“The Brimstone Bleed will last three months and will take place across four ecosystems: desert, sea, mountains, jungle. The winning prize will be the Cure — a remedy for any illness, for any single person.”Well, howdy doody! She doesn't know who fucking left the message, or how the person is going to cure her brother when modern science already says that there is no cure for her brother, but fuck, let's do it! Let's just listen to the mysterious message from god-knows-who, let's just run off in the middle of the fucking night to god-knows-where, only to disappear from your parents for 3 fucking months (nobody cares about missing children, anyway, right?), in order to pursue a mysterious cure for your brother in a race involving god-knows-what!
And after almost two hundred thousand miles, the car is an utter embarrassment to the auto community. My parents will wake up to find their daughter gone. I’d hate to have them left with the crap car, too.SUCH FILIAL PIETY.
I’ve watched a lot of scary movies, and I’ve learned nothing good is ever at the bottom of a winding staircase. Pulling in a breath and preparing myself to be eaten alive, I head down.In the middle of a room are an assortment of eggs. Large eggs, small eggs. Shiny ones, iridescent ones.
I don’t need the device in my pocket to tell me what my gut already knows.While Tella is standing there, wondering about the meaning of life, a million other contestants rush in and grab all the eggs (fucking brilliant). Tella manages, by the skin of her teeth, to snatch the very last one.
This is the Pandora Selection Process.
He looks back at me, and I wonder if maybe, even though he looks a little like a serial killer, he’s going to help me up.They go to a train station, where they are met by an Effie-Trinket school reject in garish, loud clothes, and handed a pill. Naturally, MUST TAKE THE PILL.
Pounding my fists against the boards, I scream. I swallowed the pill. I’m in a box. How stupid could I have been? I left without telling my family where I was going, got on a train to a city that doesn’t exist, and swallowed a foreign object. Oh yeah, and I also picked up a rotting egg along the way.This type of self-realization is important; in my native language, we have a phrase for it that roughly translates to "you are so fucking dumb that when you die and join us in the land of the dead, we will pretend that you don't exist because you are an embarrassment to our family line."
...when the eagle gets close enough — I swing a right hook and collide with the bird. She slams into the ground and slides for several feet.
His head falls back and his spine ripples. Beneath him, his legs and arms stretch longer and wider, and his black coat begins to thicken. My Pandora grows massive muscles and new body parts — morphing.Not ondo they morph, they duel each other in a Pokémon style duel to the death. They Digivolve. Cute.
I close my hand around the lid and pull it off. Inside is a tiny pillow. I imagine all sorts of miniature animals using it in their miniature beds. But that’s dumb, because how would they ever find a pillow case to fit?Tella is so juvenile, so immature. She has the dumbest trains of thoughts. Every time she goes into a long-winded narration, I wanted to punch her in the face. She talks to herself. CONSTANTLY. UNCEASINGLY. WILL IT EVER STOP?
I decide to stay put but reason that if I see another Contender soon, I’ll run my tag-team idea across them. Deal? Deal.NO, IT DOESN'T.
Oh Jesus. I’m already talking to myself. Or thinking to myself as if there are two of me. Is that the same thing? I’m not sure. But I do know I’ve been alone for two minutes and I’m already losing my shit.
Because I have no idea of what I’ll need, I also throw in random things from my desk: pens, paper, scissors, tape. The last thing I pack is a photo of my family that’s stuck in the edge of my mirror. That and my glittery purple nail polish.Tella is hurt, bleeding, she needs to get her ass on in the competition so that she doesn't fall behind the other contestants. What does she do first? WHY, FIX HER FACE.
Running my fingers through my hair, I think about how I should be racing toward Lincoln Station. But the compulsion to repair my face is too strong.Tella is hopelessly out of shape. She's not ready for any sort of a competition. BUT SURELY, IF SHE LOOKS THE PART, SHE'LL DO JUST FUCKING FINE.
I grab my makeup bag — the one I never leave home without — and fix what I can.
With curls trimmed close to my head and a roguish green-and-blue feather dangling over my right shoulder, I decide I just might seem like someone who would enter a daring race — and win....That's not exactly how it works. During the competition, conditions are terrible. They're hungry, they lack water...Tella lacks makeup.
For a fleeting moment, before the woman speaks, I pray that the orange pack I’m wearing holds Chanel makeup. And a brush. And a mirror.The Plot: All action, no sense, no excitement. There is no competition, because this is a survival race as they go through each terrain. I was never engrossed in the plot because there was largely no point to this book.
For a fleeting moment, before the woman speaks, I pray that the orange pack I’m wearing holds Chanel makeup. And a brush. And a mirror.
Because I have no idea of what I’ll need, I also throw in random things from my desk: pens, paper, scissors, tape. The last thing I pack is a photo of my family that’s stuck in the edge of my mirror. That and my glittery purple nail polish.
I think about how I should be racing toward Lincoln Station. But the compulsion to repair my face is too strong.
I grab my makeup bag — the one I never leave home without — and fix what I can.
The last girl I see, I want to strangle...she has long hair. But instead of dark, it's blond—no, honey gold—and shines like that of a Broadway starlet. I can't see her eyes from here, but I'm sure they're some kind of stunning shade of blue. She has cream-colored skin and a body that belongs in a magazine—the kind for guys, not girls. I hate her with everything I have as she laughs her perfect laugh and tosses her perfect hair and crosses her to-die-for legs...We could be friends, I realize, if I weren't so overwhelmed with the urge to end her.
I'm relieved to see that she has the slightest hint of stretch marks on her belly. Though they're hardly visible, I'd like to imagine she was once enormous.
The bird raises a talon and makes a tiny slice three inches above her navel. Blood drips from the wound when the eagle removes her claw.
"Jesus, Harper," Levi says. "Couldn't you have used something besides your body?"
"My stomach is a map, see?" she explains, ignoring Levi. "When we find another flag, we make a new mark in relation to this one." Harper points at the bleeding cut. "It needs to always be with us," she says. But what she means is: me. It needs to always be with me.
If you’re hearing this message, you are invited to be a Contender in the Brimstone Bleed. All Contenders must report within forty-eight hours to select their Pandora companions. If you do not appear within forty-eight hours, your invitations will be eliminated.
The Brimstone Bleed will last three months and will take place across four ecosystems: desert, sea, mountains, jungle. The winning prize will be the Cure—a remedy for any illness, for any single person.
There will only be one champion.”
"I'd like to officially welcome you to the Brimstone Bleed. May the bravest Contender win."
The last girl I see, I want to strangle. [...] I can't see her eyes from here, but I'm sure they're some kind of stunning shade of blue. She has cream-colored skin and a body that belongs in a magazine--the kind for guys, not girls. I hate her with everything I have as she laughs her perfect laugh and tosses her perfect hair and crosses her to-die-for legs. [...] We could be friends, I realise, if I weren't so overwhelmed with the urge to end her.
~Thank you Scholastic Australia for sending me this copy!~
There's a part of me that doesn't like her considering us tools in this race. I just want… for these people to be my friends.
The only thing I can think while I'm swallowing a hunk of snake is that I am the type of person to have three glittery feather boas draped over my dresser mirror at home: purple, pink and red. And now I am eating a snake.
I'm just a girl who loves purple and Greek food and mani-pedis and singing out of tune. A girl who would give almost anything to be away from here and magically back in Boston, hanging out with her best friend, Hannah. I'm just a girl who thought she could save her brother.
“For some reason, the only thing I can think while I’m swallowing a hunk of snake is that I am the type of person to have three glittery feather boas draped over my dresser mirror at home, purple, pink, and red. And now I am eating snake.”
“For a moment, I imagine winning the Cure for Cody. On one hand, after he’s better, I could be all quiet-hero and never mention how difficult the race was. People will talk behind my back and say, She’s so brave. She never even brings it up, but we know how it must have been terrible. That Tella, she’s amazing.
On the other hand, I could go for martyr-who-will-never-let-it-go. I could shove it in Cody’s face every chance I got. I’d be like, Hey, Cody, enjoying that doughnut? You wouldn’t be if I hadn’t saved your ass.”