Leigh eyed me, I saw her with my peripheral vision, "Hey, popcorn,"
"Shh!" I passed her the bright green bowl of extra buttered popcorn, but quietly, because we're all watching The Hangover. We meaning the two of us, Ellie Marc, Owen Dominic and Blake Payton. Every Saturday we go to someone's house and watch a movie, on that particular occasion it was mine. It would of been a lot more fun if Ellie and Blake weren't so cute-sie now a days. Who knew the scene where Alan, Stu and Phil get tazed could be completely ruined by flirty giggling and the sound of key tones when they text each other-on the same couch. The three of us try to manage it though.
It was 10:30 when the three of them finally left. Leigh's parents were in Aruba, though, on a mission trip so she was staying with me. We entered my showstopper red, utterly silent bedroom very quietly, not to wake up baby Jessica in the next room. I immediately pulled out my phone, LG NV Touch if you'd really like to know, to check my messages.

"The flight to London at this time of night strictly prohibits texting, Jamie," Leigh said without looking at me, "Noah will call you when he gets there."

"You listen to too many safety videos, we have to get you off those planes." I scrolled through my inbox. She was right, nothing.

I pulled out my rainbow zebra striped pj's and old white t-shirt I got at a basketball camp a few years back. Leigh flipped on the t.v, "Whadaya know, another late night infomercial. What is it this time? Shamwow? Snuggie?"

I turned around to laugh at what should of been a correct guess, but instead a man in a beige suit and red tie popped up on the screen. For a while he said nothing, just stood there phase-less, looking at the camera filming him. He was probably in his late 60's, white thinning hair. "Who are you?" he said after about 15 seconds of dead air, "Do we ever get that question? Who. Are. You." I looked at Leigh, she looked at me with a mirroring face. We didn't saw a word.

"But really, who are you?" he asked again, "I can't answer that for your sake, but I can for mine. My name's Jim Kings, founder of the uncharted Island of Esta." he paused, "This television you are watching is one of 100 our network has selected to air this program.

"This search was not random. With the help of the Bureau of Teen Investigation, we've found 200 of the world's most fascinating teens."

"That's where my parents work," Leigh whispered. I held out my index finger to stop her words.

He continued, "On behalf of myself, I'd like to ask for your help. The civilization on the island, the Estans, are in great danger. Neighboring islanders have set out to attack the island because of their great quantity of goods. This help can only be found by first generationers, or teens. We will send you out, via jet, to the island tomorrow morning at noon promptly. Your needs, as in clothing, food, etc., have already been accommodated. Half of your parents-the ones whom their parents work for the Bureau of Teen Investigation-already know about your leave of absences in this country. As for the other half, a notice will be sent by email tomorrow morning at eight that your church, school, or teen group is going on a last minute trip and must be driven to the airport immediately. If this process fails, I'm sorry to say you will not be able to go on this trip.

"To confirm that you are going, please change the channel to 20. To delcine, change to 10. Thank you very much."

The moment of truth. This could of easily been a scam by some 40 year old creepy guy too smart to use the Internet but too dumb to actually confront the 12-year old-girl he's trying to kidnap. However, this did look very official and they had the Bureau of Teen Investigation all over the message, which would be a crime if he didn't get the permission.

"Should we do it?" I hoped that didn't sound stupid, but Leigh's usually synchronized with me on decision making.

She looked at me with a sincere worried look on her face, "We have to, I mean, my parents even know about it apparently."

My shaky fingers slowly moved to the circular black button with a two printed in white in the center, then to the zero. It was quiet until-

"Thank you for confirming your trip! We assure you that, if accomplishing this mission, you will be rewarded with the nicest of gifts and thanks from your fellow citizens, as they will all be informed of this shortly after you leave. $100,000 cash will be given to each of you and your families, and we'll welcome you anytime complimentary to our headquarters; the 5-star Elite Resort in Dubai, Dubai. Please meet at your nearest airport in terminal 15C promptly at 11 AM tomorrow. Nothing will be needed and please come alone. Thank you very much again, and enjoy your trip."

The t.v. then shut off, turning the once buzzing, sound filled room we had just watched a movie in into an utterly silent room, once again.