Aru Shah and the End of Time (Pandava Quartet, #1)

by Roshani Chokshi

Aru shrugged. “Maybe we’d get instantly reincarnated?” “What if we came back as animals?” “Then I get dibs on being a horse.” “Enjoy that.” “I like horses….” “I’d want to come back as a cow,” said Mini loftily. “Then I’d be worshipped.” “Yeah, if you lived in India…Otherwise you’d just be a hamburger.” The smile dropped off Mini’s face. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Secrets are curious things. They are flimsy and easily broken. For this reason, they prefer to remain hidden. A fact, on the other hand, is strong and powerful. It’s proven. Unlike a secret, it’s out there for everyone to see and know. And that can make it more terrifying than even the deepest, darkest secret.

“That makes sense,” said the clockwork creature. “Heroines usually are the Kingdom of Death’s worst nightmares. They’re always barging in, waving scraps of metal around, and demanding things. No manners whatsoever.” “Excuse you!” said Aru. “What about heroes? I bet they’re just as bad as heroines.” “It’s a compliment! Heroes rarely have the guts to demand things. Usually they just sulk until a magical sidekick feels bad for them and does all the work while they get all the credit.”

“What a quaint notion, child,” said Time. “But I am just one part of Time. I am Past Time. You see, there are all kinds of Time running around. Future Time, who is invisible, and Present Time, who can’t hold any one shape. Pacific Standard Time is currently swimming around near Malibu. And I think Eastern Standard Time is annoying stockbrokers on Wall Street. We’re all quite wibbly-wobbly.

Aru wondered whether this was what great warriors of yore did: hit their weapons and hope they started working right.

But Aru was beginning to think that, maybe, being overlooked or considered different wasn’t always a bad thing.

Aru used to think that friends were there to share your food and keep your secrets and laugh at your jokes while you walked from one classroom to the next. Sometimes, though, the best kind of friend is the one who doesn’t say anything but just sits beside you. It’s enough.

“You know, in my day, you could just swoop in and take the person you liked,” said Boo. “It’s far more efficient than talking.” “I’m pretty sure that’s called kidnapping,” said Mini. “It was romantic.” “It’s still kidnapping.”

“I’m thinking that we should start working on a battle cry.” “What about AAAAAAHHHH-don’t-kill-me?” suggested Mini.