Content Preview

Contents   Cover Title Page  Contents Nexie Drowning The Mimic About the Authors Teaser Copyright     Guide  Cover               Contents Title Page Nexie Drowning The Mimic About the Authors Teaser Copyright      WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ONE OF THOSE CRAZY THINGS?” ASTRID’S GRANDFATHER ASKED. HIS BIG, WARM HANDS RESTED ON ASTRID’S SHOULDERS, AND HE WAS LEANING OVER HER. “NOTHING BUT TROUBLE, ANIMATED TOYS,” HE SAID. HE SHOOK HIS HEAD, AND HIS BEARD TICKLED HER FOREHEAD. Pressed against the side of the neon-lit archway leading into the Pizzaplex’s Buddytronics Boutique, Astrid didn’t shift her gaze from the rows and rows and rows of doll and plush animal parts lining the walls of the build-your-own-toy store. At least a dozen kids, some of whom Astrid recognized as classmates from her school, darted from one part of the chaotic and colorful shop to the other. They were all chattering excitedly. Some of the kids were pointing at various parts and describing what they were going to create, and some of them were showing off their finished toys. A fast-paced pop song blasted from the store’s speakers, and several kids were dancing with their new Buddytronics. Astrid’s gaze flitted from one Buddytronic to the next. All of the toys looked so huggable. Although they could talk and move because they had animatronic endoskeletons and processors under their plush exteriors, they hung limply and sweetly when they were idle. They were like floppy teddy bears or rag dolls when held in the arms of their owners. Astrid so wanted to have her own friendly Buddytronic to hug. Astrid looked away from the finished toys and returned her attention to the rest of the shop. In front of the shelves stuffed with parts, a long assembly line–style machine was set up. Once you picked out the features you wanted for your toy, a clerk placed the parts in the machine and programmed it. A large computer screen above the machine displayed an image of what the toy would look like once it was done, and if approved, the machine churned into action. Its metal “arms” picked up the various parts and put them into place as the under-construction toy moved along a conveyor belt. Several Pizzaplex employees attended to the machine. Right now, one of the girls from Astrid’s school, Geena—a pretty girl (and she knew it) with long, shiny black hair—was loudly ordering around a curly haired clerk. Geena pointed at the assembly machine’s display screen. “I want his eyes to be a brighter green!” Geena commanded. As was typical for her, Geena stood with her hands on her hips. One foot jutted out, and it tapped the floor. Geena always wanted what she wanted the second she wanted it. Astrid watched the clerk tap a few keys on the machine’s control panel and swap out some parts. The display screen flashed an image of the Funtime Foxy Buddytronic that Geena wanted. With the brighter green eyes now in place, she turned her attention to the mouth. Geena screeched, “Bigger teeth!” The clerk scrambled to adjust the machine yet again. Astrid heard her grandfather sigh. “Kids your age never know how good they have it,” he said softly. “Always wanting something else.” Astrid felt her shoulders tighten. For the last couple weeks, Astrid had been bugging her grandfather—her farfar, the Swedish name for grandpa—to give her more chores to do so she could earn some extra money. When he’d asked her what she wanted the money for, she’d shrugged and said, “Oh, just things.” In spite of his mistrust of “modern thingamajigs,” Farfar was supportive of her interest in computers and programming. Even so, she knew how he felt about the animatronics at the Pizzaplex, and she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that she wanted to buy a Buddytronic. Ever since she’d started fourth grade, Astrid had been watching her classmates show off their Buddytronic pals. The animated toys were really, really neat; they were almost like having your very own best friend, one you could take anywhere. They were toys, yes, but they were close to the size of a small child—about two and a half to three feet tall. They could move around and walk (a little awkwardly). They also could talk to you, and they didn’t just say the same silly lines over and over. They were programmed to respond to what you said to them, at least in a basic kind of way. Since Astrid didn’t have a best friend—or any friend, really—she desperately wanted a Buddytronic. The trouble was that a Buddytronic cost a thousand dollars. That was a lot of money. And unlike Astrid’s classmates, who came from rich families that gave them whatever they wanted, Astrid didn’t have a rich family. No friends. No rich family. Astrid didn’t fit. Astrid had always felt different from other kids, but she used to at least have a couple friends. She’d met Brooke and Jolie in first grade when she and her dad had moved here to live with Farfar, and even though they were “normal” little girls who liked to play house and had parents who bought them all the latest toys and clothes, they’d accepted Astrid. Astrid didn’t understand why playing house was fun because all the things Brooke and Jolie pretended to do Astrid actually did to help her dad and her farfar. And all her toys and clothes were handmade. Brooke and Jolie thought that was amusing, but they didn’t ever make fun of Astrid for it. After second grade, though, Brooke had moved away and Astrid left public school and drifted apart from Jolie when they didn’t have class together. Now, she was “the scholarship kid” at an expensive private school (she had won free tuition when she took first place in a math and programming competition). The teachers were nice,