Page 42 of January Bell

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.” I clap my hands together then immediately regret it as the sound echoes weirdly. “You’re going to dangle me, and I am going to grab as many pieces as I can.”

“Not as many as you can,” Zan corrects.

“Right,” I agree. “All the pieces.”

“Okay. I am going to dangle you,” he repeats.

“I don’t really like the way you say that,” I tell him. “I need you to be more confident.”

“I am going to dangle you over the worms that are eating each other and will likely eat us if we don’t solve this on time.”

“I don’t think that’s much better,” I tell him. “But it’s what we’ve got, all right? So hold me by my waist, and then—yep⁠—”

I’m interrupted by the fact that Zan has already rearranged me.

“You’re really strong,” I tell him, slightly awed.

“Well, of course I am. I am a Draegon soldier,” he says, completely nonplussed.

“Right, okay, we’ll just—yep—if you can just—yep, right there.”

We wriggle around, and I try not to throw up, though I continue to gag and retch a little bit as the worms eat each other, growing bigger and bigger.

I dig through the sand, shoving pieces into the top of the fitted suit that I’m thanking my lucky stars I put on before I accidentally disintegrated our damned dome this morning.

“How many pieces is it?” I yell, hoping to get Ken’s attention.

“It feels like I have at least thirty pieces stuffed into my top, and while I used to think that I wanted bigger boobs, now that I’ve got some weight up there, I’m not so sure. I’ve got a lot more respect for my friends with big ones now. Although I guess theirs aren’t sandy and glass, otherwise that would be, like, super weird.”

“You do realize you’re saying all of this out loud?” Zan asks.

“You know what? I’m doing whatever I can to not focus on the fact that these worms are starting to get really freaking huge.”

“Okay, there it is,” I say.

One of the worms latches onto my hand as I grab for one of the last puzzle pieces I can see.

“I really hope that’s all of them, otherwise you’re going to have to, like, kick around and find them with your toes,” I tell Zan.

I yank the piece up, the worm squealing, and I scream back at it, ignoring the fact that it’s drawn blood and throwing it against the glass wall.

It makes a thick, wet plopping noise as it hits squeaking as it slides down into the sand that’s now at Zan’s shins before disappearing from view.

“It bit you,” Zan says, his voice a low growl of fury the likes of which I haven’t heard before.

It sends a thrill of pure excitement through me.

“Well, yeah, that’s, I think, what they’re here for,” I say nonchalantly.

“It bit you,” he repeats.

With that, he pushes me up into the small aperture that leads to the top part of the hourglass.

“What are you doing? There’s no way I’m going to fit⁠—”

He pushes one last time, leaving just my toes dangling through the opening.

“Okay, wait,” I say, realizing something. “I can give us more time if I do this.”