The Battle

The Battle

The game begins again in this gripping follow-up to “exciting, clever” ( Booklist ) The Gauntlet that’s a futuristic Middle Eastern Zathura meets Ready Player One ! Four years after the events of The Gauntlet , the evil game Architect is back with a new partner-in-crime—The MasterMind—and the pair aim to get revenge on the Mirza clan. Together, they’ve rebuilt Paheli into a slick, mind-bending world with floating skyscrapers, flying rickshaws run by robots, and a digital funicular rail that doesn’t always take you exactly where you want to go. Twelve-year-old Ahmad Mirza struggles to make friends at his new middle school, but when he’s paired with his classmate Winnie for a project, he is determined to impress her and make his very first friend. At home while they’re hard at work, a gift from big sister Farah—who is away at her first year in college—arrives. It’s a high-tech game called The Battle of Blood and Iron, a cross between a video game and board game, complete with virtual reality goggles. He thinks his sister has solved his friend problem—all kids love games. He convinces Winnie to play, but as soon as they unbox the game, time freezes all over New York City. With time standing still and people frozen, all of humankind is at stake as Ahmad and Winnie face off with the MasterMind and the Architect, hoping to beat them at their own game before the evil plotters expand Paheli and take over the entire world. Riazi once again offers a fast-paced story in a changing game world with floating skyscrapers, flying cars, flavorful food and sweets, and a giant talking mouse… An exciting return. -- Kirkus Reviews Fantasy featuring people of color is sorely needed, and while this adventurous sequel could be read on its own, it’s recommended to buy both novels for kids who love action-packed science fiction. -- School Library Journal Karuna Riazi is a born and raised New Yorker, with a loving, large extended family and the rather trying experience of being the eldest sibling in her particular clan. Besides pursuing a BA in English literature from Hofstra University, she is an online diversity advocate, blogger, and publishing intern. Karuna is fond of tea, baking new delectable treats for friends and family to relish, Korean dramas, and writing about tough girls forging their own paths toward their destinies. She is the author of The Gauntlet and The Battle . The Battle CHAPTER ONE I SWEAR I DIDN’T DO it. That’s what you want to hear from me, right?” At twelve years old, Ahmad Mirza probably shouldn’t have been used to roundtable interrogations. Or know from experience what your captors wanted to hear before they would let you out from under the lights aimed at your face. “I mean, sneaking around and stealing isn’t part of my daily routine.” It was the usual setup. The same old faces were clustered in the conference room, all wearing various expressions of dismay. Mrs. Evans, his homeroom teacher, clung to her coffee mug like it was a lifesaver and she was a woman overboard. Mr. Willis, the art teacher who always wore a jolly expression and cheerily arranged dreadlocks, seemed abnormally grim. The door creaked open ominously, and Ms. Mallory, the nosy office secretary, peered in. “Do you still need the vice principal, Mr. Willis?” she asked. Her voice sounded a little too eager, in Ahmad’s opinion. Resentment bubbled up and he tried to push it down. Today wasn’t an ordinary day. Today, he might have already pushed the limits of any patience PS 54 had for Ahmad Mirza and his escapades. But he ended up blurting it out anyway. “Go ahead, Ms. Mallory. You can bring the torture devices too, but I won’t talk.” Mr. Willis sighed heavily. “No, we don’t need him, Ms. Mallory. Just . . . close the door.” Ms. Mallory shot Ahmad a giddy smile as she did just that. She was probably off to make sure she still had Ahmad’s parents on speed dial, and she probably did. He didn’t want to think about that, though. That started the squirming up again, and the shaking in his legs that would reach his voice and really prove his false bravado to be just that: an act. Even if this was Ahmad’s normal—lunch detention and angry teachers—he didn’t want to look his mother in the eyes and tell her he messed up again. “This sucks,” Ahmad mumbled to himself. Especially because today—for once—it wasn’t his fault. There had been no fight over the contents of his lunch box, no classmate leaning in and jeering at the green chili–spiked mashed potatoes that made your nose sting with the scent of fresh mustard-seed oil, or the little dried fish even he hated with eyes and silvery scales still intact. He’d managed to be mostly respectful during class discussions, and kept his hands and feet to himself during gym. He’d even raised his hand a few times in the name of being helpful and passing out pencils, though he wasn’t called on. But in spite of all that, here he was. It didn’t feel fair. Particularly tod