The Adventure of a Lifetime (4 page)

The noise was loud and irritating, but also spooky, haunting, and beautiful. Betty listened to it for a while, half-asleep, until suddenly her eyes were wide open. School. She was late for school! Her alarm was going off! Betty rushed out of bed.

She reached for her dresser drawer, and then glanced out the window above the dresser. The sky was dark and it was dead silent outside. The only things Betty could see were the streetlights and the faint outlines of the surrounding houses. No rushing cars, no sun. School had ended yesterday. Betty let go of the drawer. It was still night.

Suspiciously, Betty eyed her alarm clock. It was twelve o'clock. Why was it going off? Maybe she had forgotten to turn off her alarm—but, even so, why was it going off at midnight?

The noise started again. It was like an enchanting song. When it played, all Betty wanted to do was listen. The song vibrated in her eardrums. She found herself humming the tune, which was twisting every which way, one minute soft and peaceful, the next, loud and menacing. Then the song ended abruptly. Betty stared at her alarm clock.

Then she noticed the thing glowing next to it.

The book. It was open…and glowing.

And singing?

Weird.

Betty slowly moved closer to look at the book. It was open to the last page and the word “time” was moving, curving, twisting itself, until she could no longer even see the word.

She stared at the picture of the clock in the book, the one that said 12:00. The one that had made her doubtful the book was made for her.

It said 12:00 in the book. It was twelve o'clock right now.

Betty heard a chorus of voices fill the air.
Time, time, time,
angelic voices called.
Time, time, time,
the voice in Betty's head echoed, while her eyes widened with disbelief.

Now Betty was seriously scared. She tried to shut the book, but it was like trying to force a door closed that was constantly being opened by a strong wind. Whenever Betty managed to shut the book, it opened up again, as if it had a mind of its own. What was going on?

The song and the light that the book gave off didn't stop, no matter how much Betty tried to close it. Her parents! Her parents would put a stop to this. Betty reached to open her bedroom door, but it wouldn't budge. She looked at the clock. It was still twelve o'clock. How long did one minute drag on?

And then the song ended, the light ceased. Betty breathed a sigh of relief. Finally.

But then the book lit up again, floated in midair and hovered over Betty.

And then it talked.

Seriously, talked. A cool female voice that sounded like lapping ocean waves talked slowly and smoothly.

“Betty Pems Hilmar, do you want an adventure?” The female voice stayed calm and steady. “Gather all your belongings, because—” the lady paused, “you are going on the adventure of a lifetime. You have two minutes.”

A chill filled the room. The book was still the same—the humming and the glowing—but now Betty felt different. Taken aback, she approached the book as if under a trance. If she was wrong, and this was just a dream, this gesture would be okay. However, if for some weird reason Betty was right and this all was real, she was in for trouble. Betty wasn't sure what she wanted—for this to be a dream or for it to be real. There were pros and cons on each side, but Betty also wanted to know the truth. What was this? As she pinched her arm and felt her forehead, she was certain she wasn't hallucinating, and this wasn't a dream. This was real.

“Three, two, one,” the female voice said. Unaware that her two minutes were up, Betty looked around the room in confusion. And, in an instant, Betty's mind went blank. She spun around in a cloud-like vapor. A rosy smell filled her nostrils and a cool breeze danced on her arms. Betty's eyes remained closed, but her mouth was open, smiling involuntarily. The rose smell and cool breeze all floated inside, but Betty didn't care. Her hair flew into her face and Betty involuntarily grabbed it. It wasn't tangled, but straight and lush like never before. And then everything went dark.

***

Groggy, Betty opened her eyes. Sunlight peeked through a window. It was morning.
It
was
just
a
dream
, Betty thought. But when her eyes adjusted to the light and she looked around the room she was in, she realized she wasn't in her own house. She was in an odd-looking room that somehow felt familiar.
Where
am
I?
Betty thought.

Betty quietly shuffled to the window, which stretched across the whole height of the wall. When she got closer to the “window,” she realized it looked more like somebody had kicked a hole in the wall, hung curtains around it, and considered it good enough. Outside, she saw a forest surrounding the house. Clumps of trees gathered together, forming what looked like a protective barrier. The sun, which was shining brightly high above the treetops, was unable to filter sunlight and warmth through the dense forest. Turning around, Betty decided to explore more.

She started wandering through room after room. The first room looked like a bedroom, but the bed was old and broken and the paint on the walls was faded and chipped. Another “window” was in the room, letting in a breeze.

Nothing
to
look
at
here—maybe in the next room
, Betty thought. But when Betty approached the door to the next room, nothing made sense at all. From the outside, the door looked normal, but when Betty twisted the knob, a machine made its way from out of the wall. “Place your hand here,” the automated voice said. Betty backed away. It was all so complex and computerized, and the rest of the house looked like a shack.

Finally, she let out a shaky breath and placed her hand on the metallic surface.

“INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!” A siren blared. Betty backed away, then started running to the room that she had been in when she first got here. The siren was still blaring, and Betty worked hard to catch her breath. The siren soon died down but nobody approached her. She made her way to a couch and dug her finger into one of the couch's deep holes. Everything seemed oddly familiar, as if she had been here before.

And then she remembered. Amber! This was the exact same couch on which Amber had sat and patted Zenthia, her pet lion, at the end of the first book. She had imagined this place when she was reading—the couches, the windows, and the pecan colored walls. Everything matched the descriptions in the books.

This was Amber's house in
Amber
the
Brave
. Who else would live in the middle of a forest? If this was real or a dream or her imagination, Betty didn't care. It just mattered that she was here—the place of her dreams, the base of adventure.

But where was Amber? And where was her lion, Zenthia? So far Betty hadn't seen either of them anywhere.

Suddenly Betty received her answer.

A door that Betty hadn't gone through opened and a crouching figure with no mane approached Betty. Her claws were the size of Betty's fingers, but sharper than her nails. In the light, her fur looked pale. Her eyes looked evil and hungry as she slowly got ready to pounce. Betty couldn't take her eyes from the lion's brown and beady eyes, which were drawing her in.

Then, the trance broke and Betty started running toward the pair of double doors the lion had come from. The lion's warm breath streaked down Betty's neck as it followed. Sweating, she burst through the double doors to what seemed to look like a balcony. She was going so fast, she collided with a girl about the same height as her!

“Sorry,” Betty nervously said. “The lion's chasing me and oh, I'm so scared,” Betty admitted, as the female lion burst through the double doors herself and scowled at her prey. Betty cringed with fear, then turned around.

The other girl however found this behavior perfectly acceptable, and as she stroked the lion affectionately, she spoke to Betty in a sharp tone.

“It's what she's supposed to do. Any intruders have to face her first and if they make it out alive, they get the chance to battle with me.” The girl said this as if it were rehearsed. Her voice and words sounded strong but her face lacked confidence.

Finally, Betty spoke, “Amber? Amber the Brave? What are you doing here?” Betty recognized the poised figure and the auburn hair. The emerald green eyes and slightly tanned skin finally tipped her off. The camouflage pants and dark green shirt caught Betty's attention—only a real adventurous girl would dress like that. And there was only one real adventurous girl in Amber's house, and that was Amber herself.

“Um, it's my house! And I don't need to answer any of your questions,” Amber boasted, but the last sentence seemed to come out late and didn't have the intimidating effect Amber had hoped for, since she had just answered one of Betty's questions.

“Look, what are you even doing here? I don't like strangers, and if you want, I'm ready to fight, as long as I get you out of my house,” Amber said, pretending to be bored.

Meanwhile, Betty couldn't figure out why Amber was talking like this. She was supposed to be kind and genuine—or at least that's how Lana Mungo described her. Were characters different from how authors wrote about them? Was Amber different in real life? Because this was definitely real. The balcony that Betty stood on looked real, and it felt so too.

“No, I haven't come to fight. I want to…” What? What did Betty want to do? Be friends? Yes. That sounded right. She did desperately wanted to be friends with Amber. “Be friends?” Betty hesitantly said, hoping Amber would stop asking questions.

“That's what they all say. ‘I want to be friends,' or ‘I am your…uncle,' or, and here's the funniest one ‘I brought cake.' So what's the real reason you're here, supervillain?”

“Supervillain? What are you talking about? I'm Betty,” Betty smiled and held out her hand. Amber took it for a split second, and Betty winced as she twisted it.

“Ow!” Betty cried, rubbing her wrist. “Why'd you do that?” Not only were Betty's feelings hurt, but also her wrist. What was wrong with Amber?

“You can drop the act. Just reveal yourself. C'mon, I'm supposed to bust into Professor Spark's office to kick his butt at about two o'clock, so stop trying to be friendly, Betty, and let's just fight. C'mon! Either we do it now or in five minutes, but you're still going to get thrown off this balcony.”

“You don't really think I'm a supervillain, right?” Betty laughed, but her chuckling faded as she noticed the serious expression spread across Amber's face.

“Duh…” Amber said. Betty blushed at her foolishness.

Standing on that balcony, Betty felt changed, as if she had known Amber, but now the heroine standing in front of her was nothing more than a girl with a bad attitude. Betty bet that Amber accused everyone who came into her house of being a supervillain. She also bet most people left as quick as they could, but Betty Pems Hilmar was a girl with determination. She was certainly scared but she also wanted to become friends with Amber. How could she do so if Amber thought she was a supervillain?

The
scar!

The very first chapter in
Amber
the
Brave
introduced the scar. For billions of years, supervillains had scars engraved on their left ankles—a way to show they were supervillains. They usually wore long black trousers to hide the mark, but most people knew about the mark anyway. It was a dead giveaway if your scar was revealed, because no matter how good the disguise, the scar was permanent and was there right when the villains were born.

Betty didn't have the scar, and once she showed Amber, the other girl wouldn't think of her as a bad guy anymore! Betty's heart jumped for joy at her cleverness as she pulled up the left leg of her pants.

“Hey Amber,” Betty said. “Look at this!” Betty held her foot up high and her ankle showed no scar. Amber's eyes widened with surprise, and she bent down, feeling Betty's ankle for the mark, but it wasn't there. Shocked, Amber stood up and said, “Wait, so you're not a villain?”

“That's right,” Betty nodded gleefully.

“Then what are you doing here? Nobody really comes to this part of the forest,” Amber said, eyeing Betty while pursing her lips.

Betty tried to straighten her tangled brown hair. She looked down to smooth her clothing and realized she was wearing pajamas and bunny slippers.
Oops
. Betty blushed again. Now that she wasn't a supervillain to Amber anymore, she cared about how she looked. While Betty was trying to untangle her hair, Amber was still watching her suspiciously.

“I'm Betty Pems Hilmar,” Betty said, trying to keep her voice cool.

Amber continued to stare, so Betty continued to explain—or at least try to explain. She knew she couldn't say she'd come by a magical book. Who would believe that?

“Well, you see, I got lost and I didn't know what to do in the midst of this gigantic forest,” Betty said, gesturing to the wilderness below. “And then I saw your house and I thought maybe you could take me in until I figured out how to get back home.”
It
wasn't exactly a lie,
Betty thought. “So then I came up to the door and saw that it was…unlocked and I decided to go in. Your lion scared me a bit,” Betty said.

“I don't know,” Amber hesitated. Betty batted her eyelashes and used her puppy-dog face, hoping Amber would let her stay. After all, she didn't have anywhere to go, and if Betty's hunch was correct, this might be the only time she would ever spend with the heroine.

Skeptical Amber's thoughts were moving in a different direction, though. Would this girl cause her trouble? Hoping not, Amber sighed, “Fine, you can stay.” Then, regaining her sharp attitude, she said, “Don't make any more trouble though, or you're out of here, got that?”