OtherEarth | by Jason Segel | Kirsten Miller | ‎ Delacorte Pr | ‎ English

Product description Review Praise for Otherworld, Book One in the Series: A New York Times Bestseller"Full of high stakes, thrillers, and fantastic twists and turns, fans of Ready Player One are sure to love this addictive read."--Buzzfeed"A potent commentary on how much we're willing to give up to the lure of technology." --EW.com"A fantastic journey from start to finish, and will keep your attention, long after you've put the book down."--Hypable.com "An engaging VR cautionary tale." --The A.V. Club "Authors Jason Segel and Kirsten Miller keep the action nonstop while they convincingly ratchet up the tension...[in] the high-stakes gaming and intrigue of [Otherworld.]"--Shelf Awareness "[A] fast-paced adventure."--Publishers Weekly A CBC Teen Choice Book Award Nominee About the Author Jason Segel is an actor and a writer. Segel wrote and starred in Forgetting Sarah Marshall and cowrote Disney's The Muppets, which won an Academy Award for Best Original Song. Segel's film credits include The End of the Tour; I Love You, Man; Jeff Who Lives At Home; Knocked Up; and The Five-Year Engagement, among others. On television, Segel starred on How I Met Your Mother, as well as Freaks and Geeks. He is the coauthor of the New York Times bestselling Nightmares! series--Nightmares!; Nightmares! The Sleepwalker Tonic; Nightmares! The Lost Lullaby; and Everything You Need to Know About Nightmares! and How to Defeat Them. OtherEarth is his second novel for young adults. To learn more about him, you can follow @jasonsegel on Twitter.Kirsten Miller lives and writes in New York City. She is the author of the acclaimed Kiki Strike books, the New York Times bestseller The Eternal Ones, and How to Lead a Life of Crime. OtherEarth is the sixth novel Kirsten has written with Jason Segel. You can visit Kirsten at kirstenmillerbooks.com or follow @bankstirregular on Twitter. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. I zip my fly and look up from the weeds I’ve been watering. The sun has risen over the hills in the distance, and there’s nothing but sand and scrub as far as the eye can see. I could be anywhere. There’s no way to tell what century I’m in—-or what planet I’m on. If I’ve traveled back in time, I’d never know the difference. And though I’d rather not think about it, there’s a chance I’m being held captive in a capsule somewhere, with a disk attached to the back of my skull and my brain imprisoned in a computer--generated world. My eyes detect movement in a patch of dead brush. A scorpion emerges, and I watch it scuttle across the sand toward my shoe. The thing is a monster—-at least six inches long—-but I don’t even flinch. My startle reflex has been dialed down to zero. I’ve seen much worse in recent days. There’s one thing that worries me, though. It’s the color. I didn’t know real--world scorpions came in iridescent green. If I had a phone, I’d look it up. I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever have a phone again. I send the creature flying with a kick and head back toward the car. Kat’s there soaking up some early--morning sun. The sight of her pulls my thoughts back from the darkness. She’s wearing a Budweiser T-shirt and a pair of hot--pink jogging pants with the word diva printed across the butt. She picked up the ensemble at a Walmart in West Virginia, and somehow she makes it look amazing. Kat’s reading a large sheet of paper that’s spread out on the hood in front of her. “Is that a newspaper?” I ask as I approach. I can’t even remember the last time I saw a print edition. “Nicked it from the hotel before we left,” she tells me. “Says here there’s a pig--picking in Darwin next week. And Charlie Jones was arrested for stealing three chickens and a pregnant goat. I guess that’s what passes for front--page news here in southwest Texas.” “Nothing about Milo? Or the Company?” She looks up from the paper and snorts. “Are you kidding? Darwin, Texas, hasn’t made it out of the twentieth century,” she says. A gust of wind sends Kat’s copper curls flying. I feel a twinge as she pulls her hair back and twists it into a bun. It suddenly occurs to me that the two of us may be alone. “Where’s Busara?” I ask. Kat folds the newspaper and points to an identical stretch of desert on the other side of the road. There’s a tall, dark figure strolling through the brush. From a distance, she looks just like her Other-world avatar. I’m an idiot for never noticing the resemblance. While Busara’s communing with nature, I grab Kat and draw her toward me. We’ve only had a few minutes to ourselves since we sped out of Brockenhurst two days ago. We were officially a couple by the time we hit I-95. Being on the run would be so much more fun if we didn’t have a chaperone along for the ride. Instead I’ve had to make do with furtive kisses. When I slide my hand around the back of Kat’s neck, I feel the shaved patch at the base of her skull. Her hair is beginning to grow back in. She wraps her arms around me, and my head spins. I pull he