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The butler gives you a small smile. "You, of course, are at home," he answers in a formal English accent. "And I, of course, am James. In service to your family ever since you won the eighty-million-dollar lottery with that ticket your mother bought you. Are we having trouble with our memory today, if I may ask?" "Yes. Yes, James," you mumble, trying to take all this in. I'm rich! you want to shout. You feel like doing cartwheels and dancing around the family room. But you don't. James would definitely think you were nuts if you did that! "Uh, James," you ask instead. "Do we have a car and a driver? I want to go see my friends." James's polite smile disappears. His whole face frowns. "Oh, no, no, no, no," he says, shaking his head quickly. "You can't do that, I'm afraid. You can't leave the house. It's much too dangerous." ______________________________________ Find out what happens next on PAGE 111. |
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