You know how some kids get excited about the first day of school and have an outfit all picked out and a new lunchbox and stuff? Well, they’re bleeping idiots.

“Can we play hooky?” Iggy muttered as he scrambled eggs.

“Somehow I suspect they’re picky about that,” I said, dropping more bread into the toaster. “I bet they’d call Anne.”

“I look like prep school Barbie,” Nudge complained, as she entered the kitchen. She caught sight of me in my uniform and looked mollified. “Actually, you look like prep school Barbie. I’m just Barbie’s friend.”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

Our wings were retractable and pulled in pretty tightly to our backs, but you might say that we still looked kind of like a family of Olympic swimmers.

Angel arrived, and she looked cute in her plaid skirt and white blouse because she looks cute in anything. She put some eggs and bacon on a plate, then ripped up a piece of toast and set it on the table.

Total hopped up onto a stool and dug in, seeming almost doglike. “Woof!” he said, and chuckled to himself.

“Angel?” I said, bringing her a cup of coffee. I lowered my voice. “No funny business with the teachers, comprende?”

She glanced up innocently. “Gotcha,” she said, taking a bite of bacon. I looked at her and waited. “I mean, unless I really have to,” she added.

“Angel, please,” I said, kneeling to her level. “Nothing that makes us stick out or look different, okay? Play by their rules.” I stood up and addressed everyone. “That goes for all of us,” I said quietly. “Try to blend, people. Don’t give anyone ammo to use against us.”

I got okays with various levels of enthusiasm.

“Goodness - you’re all up,” said Anne, coming into the kitchen.

She surveyed the production line of food, the flock packing it away. She smiled ruefully. “This beats frozen waffles. Thanks, Jeff. Oh, and Jeff - I meant to tell you. You and Nick will be in the same class. It’ll help you get your bearings.”

Iggy’s face flushed.

“Can Total come?” Angel asked.

Anne came over and straightened Angel’s collar. “Nope.” She walked over to the cabinet and took down a mug.

“I’ll be fine. Chase some ducks or something,” Total whispered, and Angel patted his head.

“This uniform is so uncool,” said Nudge.

“I know. Fortunately you’ll be surrounded by a whole bunch of other uncool uniforms,” Anne said. She frowned. “Ariel, are you drinking coffee?”

“Uh-huh,” said Angel, taking a big sip. “Get jump-started for first grade.”

I felt Total’s black eyes boring holes in me. Sighing, I got down a bowl and fixed him some coffee with milk and two sugars. He lapped it up happily.

Anne looked as if she was having some “pick your battles” thoughts and in the end decided to let it go.

“Okay,” she said, putting her mug in the sink. “I’ll bring the car around front. Wear jackets - it’s chilly this morning.”

The ride to school was short and silent -4- much as I imagine riding in a hearse would be.

When we pulled up to the building, } realized we’d seen it from the air. It looked like a great big private house, made of cream-colored stone. Ivy grew up one wall, and they’d let an OCD gardener have his way with the grounds. Extremely tidy.

Anne pulled into the drop-off line.

“Okay, kids,” she said. “They’re expecting you. All the paperwork is done.” She looked back at us, sitting tensely in the rear seats. My stomach hurt from nerves, and I was pulling my wings in so tight that they ached.

“I know it seems scary,” she went on gently. “But it’ll really be okay. Please just give it a chance. And I’ll have a treat waiting for you at home this afternoon. We clear on how you’ll get home?”

I nodded, feeling as tight as a coiled spring. How about by way of Bermuda?

“It’s about a ten-minute walk,” Anne confirmed. “And here we are.” She pulled up to the curb, and we piled out of the car. I took a deep breath, looking at the poor lemmings filing in through the big double doors.

“Here we go,” lemming Max muttered, then I took Nudge’s and Angel’s hands as we walked into the school.

“Okay, they’re here,” Ari said into the mike clipped onto his collar. He refocused his Zeiss binoculars, but the hated mutants were already out of sight, inside the building.

He’d have to switch to the thermal sensor, one of his favorite toys. He pulled the headpiece on and slid the lenses over his eyes. Inside the school was a wash of red: warm human bodies streaming through the halls.

“There,” he breathed, as six orangey yellow images emerged from the red river. He grinned. The bird kids ran hotter than humans, hotter than Erasers. They were easy to pick out.

“Wanna see?” Ari pulled off the headpiece and handed it to the person sitting next to him. She put it on, smoothing her hair under its straps.

“Cool,” she said. “Did you check out those goofy uniforms? Jeez. I’m not gonna have to wear one, am I?”

“Maybe. How do the freaks seem to you?” Ari asked her, as she continued to watch them.

The girl shrugged, her hair brushing her shoulders. ‘They don’t suspect a thing. Of course, this is just the beginning, really.”

Ari grinned, revealing his canines. “The beginning of the end,” he said, and she grinned back. They slapped high fives, the sound like a rifle shot in the quiet woods.

“Yep. It’s gonna be great,” said Max II, and she popped a piece of gum into her mouth. “Now everything gets doubly interesting.”

The distinct lack of an antiseptic smell was slightly encouraging, I decided. And the interior of this school looked nothing like the School, our former prison.

“Zephyr, is it?” A tweedy, teachery woman smiled uncertainly at us. She said her name was Ms. Cvelbar.

“Yeah?” said Gazzy. ‘That’s me.”

The teacher’s smile grew. “Zephyr, you’re with me,” she said, holding out her hand. “Come along, dear.”

I nodded briefly at Gazzy, and he went with the woman. He knew what to do: memorize escape routes, gauge how many people there were, how big they were, how well they’d be likely to fight. If he got the signal, he could burst through a window and be out of here in about four seconds flat.

“At least he’s not Captain Terror anymore,” I murmured to Fang.

“Yeah, Zephyr’s a big improvement,” Fang said.

“Nick? And Jeff? I’m Mrs. Cheatham. Welcome to our school. Come with me and I’ll show you your classroom,” another teacher chirped.

I tapped the back of Iggy’s hand twice. Watching him and Fang go down the hall was really hard. Teachers came for Angel and Nudge, and then it was just me, fighting my overwhelming instinct to get out of there.

The teachers seemed okay. They hadn’t really looked like possible Erasers - too old, not muscled enough. Erasers hardly ever made it past five, six years old, so when they weren’t morphed, they looked like models in their early twenties.

“Max? I’m Ms. Segerdahl. You’re in my class.”

She looked fairly acceptable. Harmless? Whatever. Probably couldn’t conceal many weapons under her skirt and sweater.

I managed a smile, and she smiled back. And our school day had begun.

“Now, does anyone remember this area’s name?”

Angel raised her hand. She figured it was time to sound smart.

“Yes, Ariel?”

“It’s the Yucatan. Part of Mexico.”

“Very good. Do you know anything about the Yucatan?” Ms. Solowski asked.

“It has Cancun, a popular vacation spot,” said Angel. “And Mayan ruins. And it’s close to Belize. Its ports are some of the closest to America. So it’s convenient for drug runners to siphon drugs up from South America, through the ports, and then on into Texas, Louisiana, and Florida.”

Her teacher blinked. Her mouth opened and then closed again. “Ah, yes,” she said faintly, stepping back to the world map hanging in front of the whiteboard. She cleared her throat. “Let’s talk about the Mayan

ruins.”

* * *

“Tiffany.”

“Tiffany?” The teacher looked confused. “I thought your name was Krystal.”

“Uh-huh. Tiffany-Krystal” Nudge made a hyphen in the air with one finger.

“Okay, Tiffany-Krystal. In language arts we’ve been working on some cross-media spelling words.” The teacher pointed to a list written on the whiteboard at the front of the class. “Those were last week’s. This morning I’m going to give a pop quiz about this week’s words, just to see where everyone is and where we need to focus.”

“Well, all right,” said Nudge agreeably. She waved a hand. “Bring it on. But just so you know, I can’t spell worth crap.”

“Do you know where the dictionary is?”

Fang looked at the girl who had spoken. “What?” “Our reference materials are over here,” the girl said, pointing. “When we have free study time, you can walk around and do homework. If you need to look up stuff, the computers and other references are over here.” “Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem.” The girl swallowed and stepped closer-She was shorter than Max and had long, dark red hair. Her eyes were bright green, and her nose had freckles. “I’m Lissa,” she said. “And you’re Nick, right?” What did she want? He looked at her. “Uh-huh,” he said warily.

“I’m glad you’re in our class.”

“What? Why?”

She stepped still closer, and he could smell the lavender scent of soap. Giving him a flirtatious smile, she said, “Why do you think?”

“Watch this! I’m gonna fly!”

The Gasman looked up with interest. Some spud from his class was balanced precariously on the top of the metal jungle gym, holding out his arms like wings.

I hope he ‘a got more than arms, the Gasman thought. Well, maybe he did have wings. After all, maybe there were more kids like them out in the world. No way to tell. That was one of the mysteries to be solved.

“Yeah?” he said, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Let’s see it.”

The kid looked a bit taken aback, then set his jaw. He crouched down a bit and jumped off the top of the play structure.

He couldn’t fly worth a nickel, hitting the ground almost instantly, landing in an awkward, crumpled heap. There was a stunned silence, and then he started wailing. “My arm!” he sobbed.

Immediately the playground supervisor hurried over, gathered up the kid, and rushed him toward the nurse’s office. Gazzy went back to making a nice collection of hefty rocks. Weapons, if he needed them.

“What’d you do that for?” someone asked belligerently.

Gazzy looked up. “What?”

A larger kid was leaning over him angrily. “Listen, spaz, when some wingnut says he’s gonna fly off of something, you tell ‘im, ‘Get the heck down from there!’ You don’t say, ‘Let’s see it!’ What’s the matter with you?”

The Gasman shrugged, but he was actually a little hurt inside. “I didn’t know.”

The kid stared at him. “What, you grow up under a rock?”

“No,” said Gazzy, frowning. “I just didn’t know.”

The kid made a disgusted face and walked away. Gazzy heard him saying, “Yeah, he didn’t know. ‘Cause he’s from the planet Dumbass.”

Gazzy’s eyes narrowed, and his hands formed into lethal little fists.

“Where did you get your hair done?” someone asked.

I turned to see a pale, skinny girl smiling at me. I pushed my lunch tray farther down the line. “Um, my bathroom?” Was she speaking in code? I had no clue what she meant. A recurring theme in my life.

She laughed and put a green apple on her tray. “No, I meant the blond streaks. They’re awesome. Did you have it done in DC?”

Oh. My hair had blond streaks? Right. “I guess the sun did it,” I said lamely.

“Lucky. Oh, look - banana pudding. I recommend it.”

“Thanks.” I took some, to be nice.

“My name’s J.J.,” she said, seeming completely comfortable with this social interaction. My palms were sweating. “It’s short for Jennifer Joy. I mean, what were my parents thinking?”

I laughed, surprised that she would confide in me like that.

“Max is a cool name,” J.J. said. “Sporty. Sophisticated.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, and she laughed some more, her eyes crinkling.

“Here’s a couple spots,” J.J. said, pointing to an empty lunch table. “Otherwise we’ll have to sit next to Chari and her gang.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t mess with them.”

I was halfway through lunch before I realized that J.J. and I had been talking for half an hour, and I apparently had not seemed so freakish that she’d run away screaming.

I had made a friend. My second one in fourteen years. I was on a roll.

“Capital of Paraguay?” the teacher asked.

Asuncion. Inhabited principally by the Guarani. Explored by Europeans starting in 1518. Paraguay is a landlocked country in South America. Population, six million and change - I raised my hand. “Asunci6n?”

“Yes, that’s right. Very good. Tonight I want you all to read about Paraguay in chapter eight of your world studies textbook. And now let’s take out our science workbooks.”

Feeling like a busy little student bee, I took out my science workbook. What further surprises would the Voice have for me? So far, it had been up on any number of subjects taught in the ninth grade. How handy. For once.

As I flipped past the bone structure of frogs, someone knocked on the classroom door. The teacher went over and had a whispered conversation, then turned to me. What?

“Max? They need you in the office for a moment.” She gave me an encouraging smile, which somehow I didn’t find all that encouraging.

Slowly I stood up and walked to the door. Was this it? Was it starting now? Was this person about to turn into an Eraser? My breath started to come faster, and my hands coiled at my sides.

Maybe not. Maybe there was something wrong with our paperwork. Something norma).

“In here.” The assistant opened a door that led to a small anteroom. On two chairs in the little room were Iggy and the Gasman. Gazzy looked up at me and smiled nervously.

Oh, no. “Already?” I whispered to him, and he shrugged, wide-eyed.

“The headmaster will see you now,” said the assistant, opening another door. “That’s right now.”

The headmaster, William Pruitt, according to a gold plaque on his desk, did not look happy to see us. In fact, he looked like he was about to blow his top. The second I clapped eyes on him, I couldn’t help it: I hated his guts. His face was red and flushed with anger. His lips were full and wet- looking, a gross dark pink. Sparse tufts of hair ringed his shiny bald head.

I had the sinking feeling that this schmuck’s inside was going to match his heinous outside, and I went on full alert.

“You are Maxine Ride?” he said with a sneering British accent that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

“Just Max,” I said, resisting the urge to cross my arms over my chest and scowl at him.

“These are your brothers Jeff and …” He consulted his notes. “Zephyr?”

“Yes.”

“Your brothers have set off a stink bomb in the second-floor boys’ lavatory,” said the headmaster. He sat back in his chair, lacing his beefy red fingers, and stared at me with cold, piggy black eyes.

I blinked, careful not to look at Iggy and Gazzy. “That’s impossible,” I said calmly. For one thing, they hadn’t had enough time to acquire the materials to make one….

“Oh, is it?” Pruitt asked unpleasantly. “Why is that?”

“They’re not troublemakers,” I replied, injecting an earnest note into my voice. “They wouldn’t do anything like that.”

‘They say they didn’t do it. They’re lying,” he said flatly. His bushy eyebrows needed trimming. And the nose hair - yuck!

I looked indignant. “My brothers don’t lie!” Of course, we all lie like rugs when we have to, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“All children lie.” Mr. Pruitt sneered. “Children are born knowing how to lie. They’re dishonest, disrespectful, unhousebroken animals. Until we get to them.”

Which made me question his career choice. Nice school you picked out, Anne. Sheesh.

I raised my chin. “Not my brothers. Our parents are missionaries, doing the Lord’s work. We would never lie.”

This seemed to give Mr. Pruitt pause, and again I congratulated myself on the brilliant backstory I’d given us. “Did anyone see them set off a stink bomb?”

“What is a stink bomb, anyway?” Gazzy asked, all blue eyes and innocence.

“There, you see?” I said. “They don’t even know what one is.”

Pruitt’s small eyes narrowed even more. “You’re not fooling me,” he said with clear venom. “I know your brothers are guilty. I know you’re protecting them. And I know something else: This is the last time you’ll get away with anything at this school. Do I make myself clear?”

Actually, not really, but I was going to let it slide.

“Yes,” I said crisply, and motioned to Gazzy to get up. When Iggy heard him, he rose also. I moved purposefully toward the door. “Thank you,” I said, right before we slipped out.

We slunk out into the hall, and I started marching them to their classrooms.

“We’re going to talk about this later, guys,” I said under my breath.

After I dropped off Iggy, I realized I had a throbbing headache. One that seemed to have been caused by regular garden-variety tension, rather than by, say, a chip, or a Voice, or some wack-job whitecoat torturing me. What a nice change.

“You ignorant little sah-vages,” Gazzy said, puffing and screwing up his face. As usual, his imitation was uncanny. I almost wanted to turn around to make sure the headmaster hadn’t snuck up behind us.

Angel and Nudge were cracking up at Gazzy’s recounting of the tale.

“You malignant little fiends,” he added, and I couldn’t help laughing.

“But sir,” Gazzy went on in my voice, “our parents are missionaries. Lying is the Tenth Commandment. They’re innocent of all wrongdoing. What’s a stink bomb?”

Now even Fang was laughing, his shoulders shaking. In his white dress shirt he hardly even looked like himself.

“Is lying really the Tenth Commandment?” Iggy asked.

“No idea,” I said. “Let’s cut into the woods. This road’s making me nervous.”

We’d walked along the main road until we were out of sight of the school. Now we headed into the woods at an angle, knowing we would meet up with one of Anne’s orchards soon.

“So who really did set off the stink bomb?” Nudge asked.

I rolled my eyes. “They did, of course.” I glared at Gazzy, frustrated that my look was lost on Iggy. “I don’t know how, I don’t know why. I just know they did.”

“Well, yes,” Gazzy admitted, looking a tiny bit embarrassed. “This kid was a total jerk to me on the playground, and someone stuck a Kick Me sign on the back of Iggy’s shirt.”

“I told you I’d take care of that,” Fang said to Iggy.

I sighed. “Guys, you’re going to meet jerks in every situation. For the rest of your lives.” However long that would be. “But you can’t be doing stuff like stink bombs - not right now. We’re trying to blend, remember? We’re trying to not make waves, to not stick out. So making a stink bomb, setting it off, and getting caught was not the right way to go.”

“Sorry, Max,” said Gazzy, sounding almost sincere.

Inside, I understood why they’d done it. I even wished I’d been able to see the headhunter’s face when he’d found out about it. But this stunt had been totally uncool. And dangerous.

“Listen, you two,” I said sternly, as we crested a ridge and found ourselves at the edge of Anne’s property. “You put us all at risk. From now on you’re going to toe the line at that stupid school or you’re going to answer to me. Got it?”

“Got it,” Gazzy mumbled.

“Yeah, got it,” Iggy said reluctantly. “We’ll be more stupid and idiotic in the future. We’ll blend.”

“Good.”

Anne was not thrilled with us when we got home.

“I got a phone call” were her first words as we hung our jackets up neatly in the hall. “I guess you’re all adjusting. Well, anyway. Come on into the kitchen. There’s hot chocolate and cookies.”

Way to reward the buggers, Anne. Great mothering. I took the opportunity to give Gazzy another glare, and his small shoulders hunched.

“Let me just say that I’m very disappointed in your behavior,” Anne said, as she started pouring mugs of hot chocolate. She plopped two marshmallows in mine, and I tried not to think about the time Jeb had done the same thing for me, not too long ago.

She opened a package of chocolate-chip cookies and put them on a plate on the table. We all dug in - lunch had been hours before, and we’d had only normal-sized meals.

“I could show you how to make cookies from scratch,” I said, then blinked in surprise. Had those words really left my mouth? Everyone else looked surprised too, and I felt defensive. So, what, I was never nice to Anne? “There’s a recipe on the back of the chip package,” I mumbled, taking another cookie. “I’d like that, Max. Thanks,” said Anne, her voice softer. She gave me a pleasant smile, then went to the sink.

“Stink bomb,” Total chortled, in between bites of cookie. “That must’ve been great.”

No. The bigger playground. Angel looked into her teacher’s eyes and pushed the thought at her gently. They were supposed to go to the younger kids’ playground at recess, but Angel wanted more room. There was no reason they shouldn’t play on the big field.

“I guess there’s no reason you can’t play on the big field,” Angel’s teacher said slowly.

“Yes!” said one of Angel’s classmates, and they turned and ran through the gates and onto the big playground.

“Ariel! Come play with us!”

Angel ran over and joined Meredith, Kayla, and Courtney.

“Can we play Swan Lake?” Angel asked. Their teacher had just read them that story, and Angel had loved it. Her whole life was like Swan Lake. She was a swan. Fang and Max were hawks, kind of big and fierce. Iggy was a big white seabird, like an albatross or something. Nudge was a little pheasant, smooth and brown and beautiful. Gazzy was something sturdy - an owl?

And she was a swan. At least for today.

“Yeah! Let’s play Swan Lake!”

“I’m Odette,” Angel called, holding up her hand.

“I’m the second swan,” said Kayla.

“I’m the littlest swan,” said Meredith, holding out her uniform skirt to make it more tutulike.

Angel closed her eyes and tried to feel like a swan. When she opened them, the whole world was her stage, and she was the most beautiful ballerina-swan ever. Gently she ran in graceful circles around the other kids. She took big, soft running leaps, staying in the air as long as she could. Then she landed, raised her arms over her head, and twirled in little circles.

The other girls were dancing too, tiptoeing across the browning lawn, swishing their arms in slow movements to look like wings. Again Angel tripped lightly over the grass, spinning and jumping and feeling just like Odette, cursed to live as a swan because of Rothbart’s spell.

Another spin, another arabesque, another long leap where Angel seemed to hang in the air for minutes. She wished so much that she could take out her wings and really do Swan Lake the way it should have been done, but she knew she couldn’t. Not now, anyway. Not here. Maybe after Max saved the world. After Max saved the world, most of the regular people would be gone. Jeb had told Angel so, when she’d been at the School again, last month. Mutants like them had a greater chance of surviving. They’d been designed to survive. So maybe when most of the regular people were gone, Angel wouldn’t have to hide her wings anymore, and she could just fly around and be Odette anytime she wanted to.

She could hardly wait.

Study Hall was my favorite class. The school had a great library, with seemingly endless books and six computers for kid’s to do research on.

The school librarian was this nice, smart guy named Michael Lazzara. Everybody seemed to like Mr. Lazzara a lot, even me. So far, anyway.

Today I was in research mode. Maybe if I hit some code-breaking sites I could figure out a different approach for how to find our parents.

All six computers had kids sitting at them. I stood there a moment, wishing I could just tip a kid out of a chair.

“Here, I can get off.”

I looked over at the guy who’d spoken. “What?”

The guy got up and gathered his books. “I don’t need the computer. You can have it.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

“You’re new,” the guy said. “You’re in my Language Arts class.”

“Yeah,” I said. I’d recognized him - years of paranoia had honed my ability to remember faces. “I’m Max.”

“I know. I’m Sam.” He gave me a warm smile, and I blinked, realizing he was cute. I’d never really had the luxury of noticing cuteness or lack thereof in guys. Mostly it was the lethal/nonlethal distinction that I went with. “Where did you move from?”

“Uh … Missouri.”

“Wow. Midwest. This must be pretty different for you.”

“Yep.”

“So, are you doing schoolwork or more of a personal project?” He nodded at the computer. I started to say, What’s with the questions? but then I thought, Maybe he’s not interrogating me. Maybe this is how people interact, get to know each other. They exchange information.

“Um, more of a personal project,” I said.

He smiled again. “Me too. I was checking out this kayak I want to buy. I’m hoping my Christmas money will give me enough.”

I smiled, trying to act as if I knew what Christmas money was. Voice? A little help here? The Voice was silent. After mentally reviewing possible responses, I went with: “Cool.”

“Well, I’ll let you get to it, then,” he said, looking like he wanted to say something else. I waited, but he didn’t-just picked up his stuff and split. I felt like a Vulcan, studying these odd, quaint humans.

Sighing, I sat down at the computer. I would never fit in. Never. Not anywhere.

Fang and I had checked out what we thought were the co-ordinates of addresses in the coded pages from the Institute. But there had been a few words too, in addition to our names. Today’s mission: Google them. I typed in the first phrase, even though it looked like a typo, a pair of nonsense words: ter Borcht.

Something moving outdoors caught my eye, and I glanced out the window just in time to see Angel practically floating across the main playing field. She and a bunch of other girls were twirling around like ballerinas, but Angel was the only one who could leap eight feet in the air and hang there as if suspended by wires.

I gritted my teeth, watching them. What part of “blend in” did these kids not understand? For crying out loud.

A list of results popped up on my computer screen. How weird. Apparently ter Borcht wasn’t gibberish. I clicked on the first result.

Ter Borcht, Roland. Geneticist. Medical license revoked, 2001. Imprisoned for unauthorized criminal genetic experiments on humans, 2002. A controversial figure in the field of genetic research, ter Borcht was for many years considered a genius, and the leading researcher in human genetics. However, in 2002, after being found guilty of criminal human experiments, ter Borcht was declared insane. He is currently incarcerated in the “Dangerous-Incurable” wing of a rehabilitation facility in the Netherlands.

Well, holy moly. Food for thought. I tried to remember what other words had shown up in the coded pages.

“Sit up!” a voice snapped, and I turned to see the head-hunter, Mr. Pruitt, leaning over some terrified kid at a study table. The kid quickly sat up straight. In the background, Mr. Lazzara was rolling his eyes. Even he didn’t seem to like Pruitt. Mr. Pruitt banged his walking stick against the table leg, making everyone jump. ‘This isn’t your bedroom,” he said snidely. “You may not lounge about like the do-nothing slug you no doubt are at home. In this school, you will sit up straight, as if you actually had a spine.”

He was going on and on, but I very quietly picked up my books, slithered out of my chair, and slunk out the library’s side door.

I could do without a dose of hateful today, thanks.

I walked down the hall as quickly as I could without making any noise.

Ter Borcht; evil genetic scientist. Gee, one of the family. Had I ever heard that name before? Clearly he must have been involved with Jeb, the School, the whitecoats, at some point. I mean, how many independent evil genetic researchers could there be? Surely they all kept in touch, exchanged notes, built mutants together….

This was a huge breakthrough - or another horribly disappointing dead end. Whichever it was, I couldn’t wait to talk to the flock about it. Just as I hurried past an empty classroom, I caught sight of Fang. Excellent - I had five minutes till my next class. I started to head in, then realized he wasn’t alone. A girl was with him, talking to him, looking earnest. Fang was standing there impassively as she went on, brushing her long dark red hair over her shoulder.

I grinned. Poor Fang. Was she selling something? Asking him to join the Chess Club?

In the next moment, the girl had put both her hands on Fang’s chest and pushed him against the wall. I strode forward, reaching out to yank open the door. Even if she was an Eraser, Fang and I could make mincemeat out of her.

Then I froze. It wasn’t an attack. The girl had pressed herself against Fang like static cling, and she went on her tiptoes and kissed him, right on the mouth.

Fang stood there for a moment, then his hands came up, holding her around the waist. I waited for him to push her away, hoping he would be sensitive about it, not hurt her feelings.

But I watched, dumbfounded, as Fang’s hands slid slowly up her back, holding the girl closer. He angled his head so they could kiss better.

I stepped back, not breathing, feeling like I was going to hurl.

Oh, God.

Spinning on my heel, I raced down the hall and into the girls’ bathroom.

I locked myself in a stall and sat down on the closed seat. Cold sweat was beading on my forehead, and I felt shaky and chilled, as if I’d just fought for my life. The image of Fang holding that girl closer, tilting his head, popped up in my brain. Closing my eyes did nothing to stop it.

Okay. Get a grip. God. What are you doing?

My breaths were shallow and fast, and I felt rage roiling in my stomach like acid.

No, calm down, calm down.

I forced myself to take several deep breaths, in and out. in and out.

Okay. Just calm down. So he kissed someone. Big deal. Why should I even care anyway? Why should I even care if he kissed every girl in this whole school? He was like my - brother. I mean, he wasn’t my brother, not really. But he was like a brother. Yes. That was it. I’d been surprised, but now I was over it. I was fine.

Standing up, I left the stall and splashed cold water on my face. I was fine. I mean, why would I even care?

Maybe you have feelings for him, said my Voice. Nooo, the Voice couldn’t ever respond when I really needed it to. But give me a sensitive situation where I’d really rather just deal with it alone? It was all over me.

Maybe not, I thought snidely.

You can’t stay children forever, said the Voice, gently mocking. People grow up, have kids of their own. Think about it.

I suppressed a shriek of frustration, gripping the edge of the sink hard so I wouldn’t ram my head into the wall. Like I was going to think about anything else, now.

“There they are.”

Ari focused the binoculars on the small group on the road, maybe a quarter mile away. Walking to their perfect home from their perfect school. Wasn’t that special. He looked into the back of the van. Six Erasers, already morphed and eager for action, sat waiting for him to give the word. The new Max was sitting in the back with them, wearing headphones.

“She’s up on her soapbox again,” the new Max said.

Ari snorted. Max - the original Max - was so full of herself, so tougher-than-thou. She ran those kids around like they were her slaves.

Slaves. There was a fun idea. Picturing the mutant bird freaks as his personal slaves cheered Ari up. He would make them do everything - take care of everything. They would bring him food and remind him to take his pills, and Max would rub his shoulders where his wings hurt. That would be so great. A tiny buzzer went off - his watch timer. Ari popped a handful of pills and reset the timer.

Unfortunately he wasn’t going to get to make them his slaves. Fortunately he still got to kill them.

“I swear, that girl wouldn’t be happy anywhere,” the new Max said, sounding disgusted.

“Let’s give her something to be unhappy about,” Ari said, and hit the gas pedal. His heart started pumping with anticipation. He hated Max, but he loved fighting her. No one else was as exciting, as much of a challenge - not even Fang. And every time they fought, he learned more about how to defeat her. Someday he would have the last punch, see the surprise on her face. . . .

In seconds the van had caught up to the group, and they wheeled around at the sound of the tires.

“Want a ride, kids’?” asked the Eraser in the passenger seat, who hadn’t morphed yet.

“What, no candy?” the original Max practically snarled. Then her eyes fell on Ari.

A laugh rose from his chest as he slammed on the brakes. He loved it! Seeing the flare of hatred and fear in her eyes when she looked at him. “Showtime, folks!” he shouted. “Max is mine!”

Erasers poured out of the back of the van before it had even stopped.

Time to play.

So, again, Ari was alive? Ari was back? I needed to think about that later.

“Happy now?” Fang muttered at me, and I took a second to scowl at him before launching myself at the closest wolf boy.

The sad thing was, I was happier. Well, not happy, exactly-just more on solid ground. A boy from class talking to me? Complete washout. Kicking Eraser butt, especially pathetic, off-balance Erasers with too-big wings? It was just more me, somehow.

Within moments I had cracked one’s kneecap with a hard side kick, and he crumpled to the ground. Very cheering. Watch it! said the Voice, just before another one clipped my jaw, swiveling my head. Go with the flow. Okay. I went with the momentum, completed the turn, and came out swinging with a hard right that smashed his jaw. Howling with pain, he fell to his knees, holding his face. Seconds later he bounced up, his eyes red with fury, in time to have Gazzy smack both hands over his ears, blowing his eardrums. Screaming, he went down again.

Fang had taken one out and was working on Ari. A quick glance showed me that Angel was dealing with a female Eraser - using her mind control to make the Eraser run headfirst into a tree, hard. Yowch. Then Angel flashed me an angelic smile, and I remembered again that we had to have a clear-the-air ethics talk sometime soon.

Max -focus! A huge thud against my back knocked the wind out of me. Wheezing for air, I whirled to see Ari, grinning, swinging hard at my head. I ducked, whirled, and put all my weight into a roundhouse kick that spun him sideways and almost knocked him off his feet. The other Erasers were mostly down for the count: It was me against him. Slowly we circled each other. Ari grinned, and fury washed over me, coloring everything red. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fang herd the younger kids into the woods and then up into the air.

“Cute uniform.” Ari sneered, showing his sharp canines. “It’s a good look for you.”

“Where’d you get those wings?” I countered. “Wal-Mart?” I kept my weight centered as we circled each other like tigers.

The other Erasers were staggering back to the van, piling into it like circus clowns. Ari saw them.

“Guess it won’t be today, guys,” Ari called to his team. “Next time I’ll let you eat the little one. I hear they taste like chicken.”

Angel.

Growling, I lunged for Ari. He stepped aside and swung at me. I easily ducked. Rage fueled my fight, and I did a quick running start, then hit him with a flying side kick, both feet ramming hard against his ribs. He fell over heavily, banging his head on the road.

I jammed my foot against his neck and leaned over him. “How many times do I have to kill you?” I snarled. “Rough estimate.”

I saw fiery hatred in his eyes, and it really hit me: This wasn’t even Ari any longer, the little kid who’d watched us from a distance when we were at the School. His own father had turned him into a monster, and any Ari that was left was being burned away from the inside. The idea made me feel sick, and I took my foot off his neck and stepped back.

Ari sat up quickly, gagging. “Point to you this time,” he said, his voice raspy as he rubbed his neck. “But you have no hope of winning.” He jumped to his feet. “I’m just playing with you, like a cat with a mouse.”

I was already backing toward the woods, unfolding my wings, ready to leap into the air. “Yeah,” I said, my voice dripping with hostility. “An awkward Frankenstein puddy-tat against a fierce, bloodthirsty, undefeated, well-designed mouse.”

His lip curled and he lunged at me again, but I’d already done an up-and-away and was hovering about fifteen feet off the ground. I rose higher and watched Ari stomp heavily to the van and throw himself in through the back doors. Inside the van, I caught the barest flash of blond-streaked hair.

None of the Erasers had long streaked hair.

“What happened to you?” Anne cried.

We trailed into the house and automatically hung up our jackets, most of which were blood-spattered. Total trotted around our feet, sniffing and growling. Angel reached down and hugged him, talking gently, and I just barely heard Total say, “Those wankers.”

“Erasers,” said the Gasman. “I’m hungry. Is there a snack?”

“What are Erasers?” Anne asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Could she possibly not know? Or maybe she just didn’t know the hip insider’s slang for them. “We’re human-avian hybrids,” I said, walking down the hall to the kitchen. I could smell popcorn. “Erasers are human-lupine hybrids.”

“Rabbits?” Anne asked, still sounding confused. She followed me.

I giggled. “That’s lapin. Or, more correctly, leporid. Not lupine.”

“Oh. Wolves,” Anne said, getting it.

“Give the lady a prize,” I said, entering the kitchen.

“Popcorn! And hot apple cider!” Gazzy said happily.

“Wash your hands,” Anne said, then took a good look at him. Gazzy had a couple bruises but looked okay. Angel and Nudge were fine. Iggy had a split lip. Fang’s nose was bleeding. I had a sudden flash of him kissing that girl and shut it down hard.

“Get cleaned up,” Anne said. “I’ll get some bandages. Is anyone hurt seriously?”

“No,” said Nudge, digging into the popcorn. “But an Eraser tore my sweater. Jerk.”

“There’s milk too,” said Anne, taking a glass bottle out of the fridge. She put it on the table and went to get the first-aid kit.

I helped Angel pour herself a glass of milk, and then I noticed: This was a different brand of milk than before. The other had been in cartons. Cartons with missing-kid pictures on them. This bottle had a smiling cow but no missing kids. Hmm.

Later I sat at the table doing my homework, which is just another term for “grown-up-imposed yet self-inflicted torture,” IMHO. Anne sat down next to me.

“So Erasers are human-wolf hybrids,” she said. “And they attacked you? Have they ever attacked you before? Where did they come from? How did they know where you were?”

I looked at her. “Isn’t all this in your reports?” I asked. “Your files? Yeah, of course the Erasers attacked us. They always do. They’re everywhere. They were created to be … weapons, kind of. Back at the School, they were the guards, the security. The punishers. Since we escaped, Erasers have been tracking us. I was wondering when they’d show up. This is the longest we’ve gone without them finding us.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Anne asked, concern on her face.

I shook my head. “I really thought you knew. You knew a bunch of other stuff about us. I mean, I wasn’t keeping Erasers a secret or anything.”

Anne let out a heavy breath. “We’d heard only vague rumors. They seemed so far-fetched that we didn’t believe them. You say these Erasers track you? How?”

Probably my chip. The one somebody put in my arm.

I shrugged and looked back at my world studies textbook.

At least, I feared it was my chip. I wasn’t positive, but it made the most sense. This was my chance to tell Anne about my chip. Maybe with her FBI resources, she could find a way to take it out. But something held me back. I just couldn’t bring myself to trust her. Maybe in about five years, if we were still here. God, what a depressing thought.

Also, these days, I was wondering if it might not be my chip, might be something else. Like, if Total was chipped. Or even one of the flock. Angel? We just didn’t know.

Anne stood up. “Well, I’m going to make some phone calls,” she said firmly. “Those were the last Erasers you’ll see.”

I almost chuckled at her naivete.

“Night, Tiffany-Krystal,” I said, grinning, and Nudge grinned back. We stacked our fists on top of each other and tapped the backs with our other hands.

“Night,” said Nudge, lying back on her comfy pillows. “Max? We are going to stay for a while, aren’t we? We’re not leaving, like, tomorrow, right?”

“No,” I said quietly. “Not tomorrow. Just - be on your toes, and try to blend, okay?”

“Okay. I do blend pretty good, I think,” Nudge said. “I have three friends I sit with at lunch. My teacher seems to like me.”

“Of course she likes you. How could she not?” I kissed Nudge’s forehead and left, heading down the hall to tuck in Angel.

Pushing open her door, I saw that Anne was already there, pulling the covers up to Angel’s chin.

“You had a long day, sweetie,” said Anne, stroking Angel’s hair off her face. “Get some good sleep now.”

“Okay,” said Angel.

“And Ariel? Don’t let Total up on the bed,” Anne said. “He has his own bed.”

“Uh-huh,” said Angel agreeably. I rolled my eyes. Total would be on the bed before Anne was five steps down the hall.

“Good night, sleep tight,” Anne said, standing up.

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Angel answered cheerfully.

Anne smiled at us and went out.

Total hopped up on the bed. Angel held up the covers for him and he wriggled underneath them, resting his head on a corner of Angel’s pillow. I tucked them both in.

“Would it kill her to turn up the heat?” Total grumbled sleepily. ‘This place is an icebox. You could practically hang meat in here.”

Angel and I grinned at each other.

“You all right?” I asked.

She nodded. “I hated seeing the Erasers today.”

“You and me both. Ari really creeps me out. Do you pick up anything from him?”

Angel thought. “Dark. Red. Angry. Torn. Confused. He hates us.”

I frowned at this grim picture of what was happening inside Ari’s head.

“And he loves you,” Angel added. “He loves you a lot.”

I backed out of Angel’s room, trying not to look shocked. Jeez. Ari loved me? Like a little kid? Like a big Eraser? Was that why he kept trying to kill me? He needed to read an article about how to send clearer signals.

A sound behind me made me turn around fast, to see that I’d almost run into Fang coming down the hall.

‘They down?”

I nodded. “They’re beat. School really takes it out of them. And then, of course, Erasers.”

“Yeah.”

We saw Anne come out of Nudge’s room. She smiled and mouthed “Good night” at us, then headed downstairs. I thought about her being the last person Nudge would see before she went to sleep, and my jaw tightened.

“Let them enjoy it while they can,” said Fang, reading my expression in that irritating way he had.

“She’s taking my place,” I said without meaning to.

Fang shrugged. “You’re a fighter, not a mom.”

I almost gasped, stung. “I can’t be both? You think I’m a lousy mom? What, because I’m not girly enough, is that it?” I was really mad, the tensions of the day boiling over in me. “Not like that girl with the red hair, stuck to you like glue!” My hands came up and, without thinking, I shoved Fang hard.

Since this was Fang, he didn’t just take it like a gentleman. He immediately shoved me back, almost making me hit the wall. I was mortified - not only because I was attacking my best friend, but because I’d sounded like a jealous idiot. Which I wasn’t. At all.

I stood there, breathing fast, feeling my cheeks flame with humiliation and anger. My hands clenched and unclenched, and I wanted to disappear.

I felt his dark eyes looking at me and waited for him to tease me about being upset over the Red-Haired Wonder.

He stepped closer to me, till his face was only inches away from mine. We’d been the same height for most of our lives, but in the past two years he’d shot past me. Now my eyes were level with his shoulder.

“You’re girly enough,” he said quietly. “As I recall.”

New embarrassment washed over me - he was referring to when I’d kissed him at the beach, weeks ago. He just had girls throwing themselves at him left and right, didn’t he?

I gritted my teeth and didn’t say anything.

“And you’ve been a great mom. But you’re only fourteen and you shouldn’t have to be a mom. Give yourself ten years or so.”

He went past me, brushing my shoulder as I stood there stiffly. He meant a real mom, with my own kids. I definitely considered the flock my own kids, but Fang meant kids I made myself. Like the Voice had said earlier.

Right then, I just hated my life, in a whole new, refreshing way.

“By the way,” Fang called from down the hallway. “I’ve started a blog. I’m using the computers at school. Against all the rules, of course. Fang’s Blog.” He chuckled, as only Fang can chuckle. “Check it out sometime . .. Mom.”

It was cold out tonight, but the new’ Max didn’t even feel it. She edged back on her branch, pressing her spine against the rough bark of the tree trunk. The binoculars were heavy on their cord around her neck. Drawing her knees up, she hugged herself, feeling a warm tear escape her eye and roll down her cheek. She was watching the other Max all the time, watching and learning. But it was hard. It was painful.

“Oh, Max,” she whispered, seeing the other Max far away, through the window of Anne’s house. “I know just how you feel. You and I are always alone, no matter how many other people are around.”

At school the next morning, we were greeted by the sight of several large tour buses taking up practically the whole parking lot. I saw my new friend J.J., and she waved and came over to me as the rest of the flock melted into the crowd.

“This is a special treat,” J.J. said cheerfully. “A field trip.”

“Field trip?” I pictured us all out in the fields, tracking something.

“Yep, field trip. The whole school is off to the White House, home of our beloved leader. Which means no classes, no lectures, and probably no homework.”

I smiled at J.J. I liked her style. She wasn’t all stuck-up and stiff. Didn’t take things too seriously. Like, well, I did, for instance.

“All righty, then,” I said. “Field trip it is.”

“Our class is over here,” a girl’s voice said.

Iggy frowned. He was concentrating on sounds, listening for the scrape of Fang’s boot against the pavement. One second he’d been there, and the next, Iggy had been surrounded by a sea of voices he couldn’t sort through.

A hand gently touched his arm. “Our class is over here,” the voice said again, and he recognized it. This girl sat eight feet away from him, due northeast, in their classroom.

Iggy was embarrassed, standing there like a blind idiot, not knowing where to go.

“Our teacher changed direction on us with no warning,” the girl explained. He remembered her name was Tess.

“Oh,” Iggy muttered. He moved where she was subtly tugging him. “Thanks.”

“No prob,” Tess said easily. “You know, I was so relieved when they put you in our class. Now I won’t stick out so much.”

Because you ‘re a blind mutant freak? Iggy thought, confused.

“You know, tall for my age, like you. People always say, Oh, be glad about it - you can be a basketball player, or a model or something. But when you’re fourteen, a girl, and five ten, the whole thing pretty much sucks,” she finished. “But now I’m not alone. We match.”

Iggy laughed, and then he heard Fang’s step, felt Fang barely brush against his jacket, telling him where he was.

“Tess?” the teacher called.

“Got to go - room leader and all,” said Tess. “I’ll find you later, when we’re walking around, okay?”

“Okay,” said Iggy, feeling dazed. He heard Tess’s light step hurry away. What had just happened? He felt like he’d been hit by a truck.

“You’re slayin’ ‘em, big guy,” said Fang.

“Of course, there’s far too much to see and do in Washington DC for us to cover everything today,” said one of the teachers, standing at the front of the bus. She raised her voice to be heard over the engine. ‘This morning we’ll tour the Capitol and see where the House of Representatives and the Senate meet. Then we’ll spend half an hour at the Vietnam Memorial, the Wall. After lunch, we’ll go to the White House.”

Angel’s seat buddy, Caralyn, oohed and looked excited.

“I can’t wait to see the White House,” Angel said, and Caralyn nodded.

“I wish we were going to the Museum of Natural History,” Caralyn said. “Have you been there?”

“Uh-uh.”

“It’s really cool. It has dinosaur skeletons, and a huge stuffed whale hanging from the ceiling, and meteors and diamonds.”

“Sounds cool,” said Angel. Maybe she would ask Anne to bring them there. Maybe she should just get her teacher to think of detouring there today. No, maybe not. If Max found out, she would be mad. Angel patted Celeste, tucked into the waistband of her plaid school skirt, and decided to just go with the program. For now.

If you’re ever feeling a lack of middle-aged white men, just pop into the Capitol. Not so much the House of Representatives, which has a bit more color and texture, but the Senate - jeez. Yes, let’s have more testosterone running the country.

In the Capitol building we watched a short movie about our Founding Fathers and how they tried to create a perfect system of government. They sounded so freaking sincere, the whole “perfect union” and “all men are created equal” thing. Except of course for the men they owned as household property. Not to put a fly in the ointment.

But despite all that, hearing their words, seeing the Constitution, getting the whole story of what they were trying to do - well, you gotta give ‘em credit. They really were trying to set up something good and fair. Kind of in a way that no other country, before or since, had tried to do.

Long and short of it: Democracy gets a big thumbs-up from me.

The Vietnam Wall was awful. A huge, smooth black granite monolith covered with names of people who died in a war. Very depressing. I saw Nudge make the mistake of touching the Wall. She almost doubled over - her ability to sense people and emotions through leftover vibrations must have been mind-blowing here. A couple of her new friends put their arms around her, and I saw one pull out a tissue. I would talk to her about it later.

Then the White House-Well. It is one big, fancy hacienda, let me tell you. Not a castle. Not as froufrou as the Taj Mahal or Graceland. But still mucho impressive.

You know, being in the White House - surrounded by invisible state-of-the-art security systems, as well as extremely visible guards with guns - I felt the safest I had in ages. If anyone wanted to get to us, they’d have to go through White House security first. Which I was comfortable with.

We saw the “Parrot” collection of rooms (Red, Blue, Green), as well as the gi-normous State Dining Hall. The library was weensy, as libraries go. There was a whole room just for presidential china, which I got a kick out of. What next? The presidential pantry?

After a while, even with the different colors, the rooms started melding together: undersized antique furniture, fancy curtains, famous paintings of famous people I sometimes recognized. When I thought about all the history that had actually happened where I stood, I almost got a little chill. Or it could have been the inadequate heating.

It just cracked me up that here I was, Maximum Ride, in person, on a school field trip. I mean, how freakish was that? This past week was the first time I’d ever gone to school in my life. I’d grown up in a dog crate. I had freaking wings. But here I was, commingling with the best of ‘em, playing nicely with others. Sometimes I just impress the h out of myself.

Finally our guide rounded us all up in the visitors’ center.

“Come on, we have ten minutes to get souvenirs,” said J.J., heading to a display case. I had no one to buy souvenirs for: We can’t collect stuff. It would weigh us down too much.

I saw Nudge and Gazzy looking through the books.

“Wasn’t this great?” Nudge asked excitedly. “I can’t believe we’re in the White House! I want to be president someday.”

“I’ll be vice president,” the Gasman offered.

“You guys would be great,” I said politely. Yes, they could run on the Mutant Party ticket, with a freak-of-nature platform. No prob. I’m sure America is ready for that.

I looked around and saw Fang. The Red-Haired Wonder was hovering by him, of course, and it irked me to all get-out. How could he even stand her, with her smiles and her agreeableness? I didn’t get it. I also saw Iggy talking to a girl - she was touching some State Department silk scarves and laughing with him. I hoped she was nice. And not an Eraser.

But where was the ever-so-adorable-and-scary Angel?

I surveyed the crowd. Besides our school group, there were random assorted tourists, another tour group, and . . . no Angel. Not anywhere. That little girl sure had a talent for disappearing.

“Nudge. Where’s Angel?”

Nudge looked around. “I don’t see her. Maybe the bathroom?”

I was already walking toward Fang. “Excuse me,” I said tightly, interrupting the Red-Haired Wonder’s adoration, “I don’t see An- Ariel.”

Fang scanned the crowd. The Red-Haired Wonder smiled at me.

“You’re Nick’s sister, right?”

Please, someone save me. “Uh-huh.”

Fang turned back to me. “I’ll go look.”

I followed him, heading for the doorway we’d all come through. This was all I needed. We were trying to blend, to not stand out, and she went and got lost in the freaking White House. Where getting lost would no doubt cause somewhat of a hullabaloo. Should I ask her teacher? Alert a guard? Maybe she was just lost, or maybe she’d been kidnapped by Erasers. Again. So much for my feeling of security. Dang it.

There were three entrances to this room, a guard at each one. Where to start?

Then an excited ripple spread through the crowd, a soft murmur of voices. I was taller than a lot of the other kids and I quickly scanned the faces I could see. The crowd parted, and Angel came toward me, a little smile on her face. Celeste dangled from one hand, and I noticed incongruously that we had to send that bear through the wash but soon.

Then I saw who was holding Angel’s other hand.

The president. Or a stunning facsimile.

My jaw dropped as I stared at them. Several black-suited men with earphones scurried into the room, looking alarmed.

“Hi, Max,” said Angel. “I got lost. Mr. Danning brought me back.”

“Hi, uh, Ariel,” I said weakly, searching her face. I glanced up at the president. He looked so lifelike, much more so than he did on TV. “Uh, thanks. Sir.”

He gave me a warm smile. “No problem, miss. Your sister knew you’d be worried. You’ve got yourself a remarkable little girl here.”

Yeah? You mean the wings? Or was it the infiltrating-your-brain part? Oh, God, I had a bad feeling about this. I studied Angel, but as usual she looked wide-eyed and innocent. Not that that had ever meant anything.

“Yes, we certainly do,” I said. “Thank you for finding her. And bringing her back.”

Angel’s teacher fell all over herself, shaking the president’s hand and thanking him and apologizing all at the same time.

“My pleasure.” The president - the authentic president of the United States - leaned down and smiled at Angel. “You take care now,” he said. “Don’t go getting lost anymore.”

“I won’t,” Angel said. “Thanks for finding me.”

He patted her blond curls, making them bounce, then waved at the crowd before turning and heading out of the visitors’ center. The black-suited men hurried after him like ants on speed.

Every eye in the room was on us. I kneeled down to Angel’s level and spoke through a clenched smile. “I can’t believe this happened,” I said. “Are you okay?”

Angel nodded. “I was worried, ’cause I looked up and my whole class was gone. So I went down a hall, and then another hall, and then the president met me. But nothing weird happened. None of those guys turned into Erasers or anything.”

“Okaaay,” I said, my heart still beating fast. “Just stick close from now on. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Okay, Max,” Angel said solemnly, taking my hand.

I also didn’t want her playing mind-puppet with the leader of the free world, but I was going to save that conversation till later.

“Zoom in.” Jeb leaned closer to the black-and-white monitor.

Ari wordlessly rewound the tape and zoomed in. Again he watched as the crowd in the visitors’ center rippled outward like a school of fish. Again the smiling countenance of the president appeared in the top left corner of the screen. Ari zoomed the focus in on the president and the blond kid by his side.

Jeb examined the screen intently, touching the glass as if he could touch the images themselves. Ari watched Jeb’s eyes focus on Angel, on Max, on the president. His gut tightened. What would it take to make Jeb look at him like that? He’d never cared about Ari when he was just a regular boy. Then Ari had been turned into a mutant freak, just like the bird kids. And still his own father had no time for him, no interest in him. What would it take? Not even dying had helped, which, face it, would have been most people’s trump card.

It was time. Past time. Time to take the freaks down. When they were completely gone, just footnotes in a science text, then Jeb would have to realize how important Ari was.

He watched as Max’s eyes widened on the screen. With those jackets on, you could hardly tell these kids were mutant freaks. Ari knew he himself was pretty identifiable. His retrofitted wings were too large to fold neatly up against his spine. His skin was rough from morphing in and out. And his features - Ari couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something odd about his features, maybe from having a seven-year-old face stretched to fit a man-sized Eraser.

Max smiled at the president nervously. Even on a tiny black-and-white screen, she was striking. Tall, lean, sandy-streaked hair. He knew that under her jacket her arms were whipcord tough, strong. He could still feel the bruise from her last kick on his ribs. He scowled.

And there was his father, watching the screen as if looking at a Thanksgiving dinner. As if they were his kids, instead of Ari. As if he was proud of them and wanted them back.

But he wasn’t going to get them back. Not ever. Ari was going to make sure of that. Plans had been made. Wheels set in motion. Jeb would be angry at first. But he would come around.

Ari covered his mouth to hide his smile.

“Max?”

I looked up to see Nudge standing in the doorway of my room, shifting from foot to foot with excitement.

“Yeah?”

“I think I know the secret of the code.”

“Do tell,” I said, once we’d all gathered in her room.

“I think it’s from a book,” she said. “I mean, okay, it could be some computerized code, in which case we’ll never break it. But I think they want us to break it - want you to break it, as part of your testing.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m failing this particular test.”

“Not yet,” Nudge said. “There’re still a couple of things we haven’t tried. Like if the numbers all relate back to a book.”

“Which book?” asked Iggy.

“A big book, with lots of words. A book that wouldn’t be hard for you to find,” said Nudge. “Something all over the place, that a lot of people have.”

“The Da Vinci Code?” the Gasman suggested.

Iggy made a pained expression. “No. Like the Bible, nimrod. It’s everywhere. In hotels, people’s houses, schools. It’s something Max could find easily. Right, Nudge?”

“Yeah,” Nudge said.

“I don’t understand,” said Angel.

“Like, there’s strings of numbers, right?” said Nudge. “It would be like what Fang saw with the maps. But now one number is a book, another one is a chapter, another is a verse, and another would be one word from that verse-Then you take all the words and see what they add up to.”

“Huh,” I said, thinking. “Do we have a Bible here?”

Nudge reached down and pulled out a thick volume. “Anne had one downstairs. I’m borrowing it. Trying to strengthen my relationship with the Lord.”

Four hours later my brain was fried. Anne had made the younger kids go to bed. Iggy, Fang, and I were still trying to make the freaking numbers work with the Bible. But no matter how we played it, nothing was panning out.

“Maybe it’s the wrong version of the Bible,” Fang said tiredly. “There are different versions.”

“This is the King James,” said Iggy, rubbing his forehead. “The most common one in America.”

“And what do we have?” I rolled my shoulders and rotated my head from side to side.

Fang looked at his notes. “Thou. Upon. Fasting. Round. Always. Saul. Dwell. Fruit. Affliction. Didst. Delight. Dwell again.”

I frowned, shaking my head in frustration. “Nothing. No pattern, no meaning. The Bible was a great idea, but maybe we’re doing it wrong.”

“So I guess we just kiss the world good-bye,” Fang said after a pause.

I gave him a look. “So funny. You’re quite the wit.”

He gave the barest hint of a smug smile. “The ladies like it.”

Iggy burst out laughing, but I just stared at Fang, appalled. How could he joke about something like that? Sometimes I felt as if I didn’t even know him anymore.

I stood up, letting my pages fall to the ground. “I’m beat. See you in the morning.” I stood up and left without another look at either of them.

“I don’t suppose you took a look at my blog yet?” Fang called out. I didn’t bother to answer… that I had. And it was good. The boy had some poetry in him.

“Cool,” said the Gasman. “Glad I ran into you.” They were surrounded by an interweaving stream of voices, as kids all around them changed classes. It was before lunch, and Iggy had been on his way to the library when Gazzy had touched his arm.

Iggy nodded. “We’ll have to remember we have the same recess on … what day is this?” The voices around them thinned and started to fade away as he and Gazzy turned a corner.

“Friday. C’mon, let’s check this out.”

Iggy heard Gazzy open a door. From the sound of the echo, he knew they were facing a big space that went down. “What is this, the basement?”

“Yeah. I’ve been wanting to explore a bit.”

“Cool.”

Gazzy touched the back of Iggy’s hand, and Iggy concentrated on what was echoing barely perceptibly around him. At the bottom of the stairs, air currents and the slightest sounds told him they were in a large, relatively empty space.

“What’s it like?” he said, lowering his voice.

“Big,” said Gazzy. “Basementy. There’re some doors. Let’s see what’s behind ‘em.”

Iggy heard the Gasman turn a doorknob and felt the breeze as the door swung toward them.

“Um, school supplies,” the Gasman said, moving a few feet away. He paused, and Iggy heard another door open.

“Sports equipment.”

“Anything good?”

“It’s all too big to carry - couldn’t hide it. Unless we had our backpacks with us.” “Note to self,” said Iggy.

“Right.”

Iggy’s hand shot out and touched Gazzy’s shoulder. He held one finger to his lips and listened hard. Yes: footsteps.

“Someone coming down,” he said in the barest whisper.

Gazzy took Iggy’s sleeve and they walked quickly and silently a few yards down the hall. Another door opened, and the Gasman pulled Iggy inside and shut it behind them with a slight snick.

“Where are we?” Iggy breathed.

“Looks like a file room,” whispered Gazzy. “Let’s get behind some cabinets, just in case.”

Iggy followed Gazzy to the back of the room, sensing tall things on either side of them. He felt Gazzy hunch down on the floor and crouched down too, just as they heard voices, getting louder.

“But what do you want me to do, Mr. Pruitt?” a woman asked, sounding flustered.

“I want you to make sure those files are lost,” said the headmaster in his horrible, sneering voice. “We can’t destroy them, but we can’t have them found either. Is that totally beyond your comprehension?”

“No, no, but -,” said the woman.

“But nothing!” the headmaster snapped. “Surely you can handle this one simple task, Ms. Cox. Put the files where you can find them but no one else can. Or is that too much for you?”

Iggy shook his head. The headmaster was such a total jerk. He hated him. Someone should teach him a lesson.

“No,” said the woman, sounding defeated. “I can do it.”

“Very well then.”

Iggy heard the headmaster turn and stalk off, and Ms. Cox sighed right outside the file room. Then the door opened. Iggy heard the slight crackling buzz of the overhead fluorescent light coming on. He felt Gazzy tense beside him.

A metal drawer opened. Papers rustled. The drawer closed. Come on, leave, Iggy thought. But instead the footsteps came closer, in their direction. No, turn around, leave, Iggy mentally urged her. If only he could do mind control like Angel. Next to him, Gazzy was holding his breath, not making a sound. If she found them, it would be very bad.

The light snapped off. Footsteps left the room, and the door closed again. The Gasman breathed out at last.

“Close call,” he whispered, and Iggy nodded, his mouth dry. “Let’s split.”

They were almost back to the stairs when the door at the top of the stairs opened. They froze, with Iggy straining to hear what was happening. The next moment, they heard voices coming from the other end of the hall. They were trapped, with people coming from both sides.

“Crap!” Gazzy whispered.

“Do you have the thing?” Iggy asked tensely.

“Yeah. But Max said -“

“We’re going to get caught!” Iggy interrupted him. “Get the thing!”

“Okay, now you’re creeping me out,” I told Nudge. We were in the school library, and it was like she was able to extract information from the computer by osmosis, practically. We didn’t even need Mr. Lazzara the librarian’s help. First, we went on Fang’s blog and saw that he was adding stuff on a daily basis - his point of view on what had happened to us so far. Now he was adding drawings as well. Next, I had Nudge search for more ter Borcht mentions and also for any notices about missing infants during any of the years we were born. We couldn’t narrow down the months, but the years we were pretty sure about.

“Okay, fourteen years ago,” Nudge said, concentrating on the screen. “We might have the most luck with that, because there’s three of you.” She scrolled down. “Unless, you know, one of you was bom in the fall of one year and the others were bom in the spring of the next year. But in general I think we -“

“Is this school related?” The chilly, hate-filled voice, quivering with suppressed rage, could belong only to . . . the headhunter.

“We’re looking up newspaper articles,” Nudge said innocently. “For civics class.”

That’s my girl. Able to lie on a moment’s notice.

“Really?” Mr. Pruitt sneered, his lip curling. “And exactly what part of the curriculum -“

Boom.

The whole library shuddered slightly. Mr. Pruitt and I looked at each other in surprise, then his fuzzy eyebrows came together. The next instant, the school’s fire alarms started clanging, making us all jump.

For a moment we just stood there, too stunned to react. Then a loud hiss came from overhead. My head snapped up just in time for me to see the ceiling’s sprinkler system cranking on, showering us with icy water.

“What?” shouted Mr. Pruitt. “What is the meaning of this?”

My guess was it meant that Iggy and the Gasman had just shot to the top of my “so in trouble” list, but I didn’t say anything.

Everyone scrambled for the doors, yelling and pushing.

Mr. Lazzara cupped his hands around his mouth. “Orderly, please! Fire drill forms! Children!”

Mr. Pruitt charged toward the doors, practically mowing kids down in his effort to get out from under the sprinklers.

Nudge grinned at me, water dripping off her curly hair. “I didn’t know school would be this much fun,” she said.

“This is grounds for expulsion!” Mr. Pruitt screamed, veins popping out on his forehead.

I watched him with interest, calculating the chances of his keeling over from a heart attack within the next live minutes. Right now it looked like 60, 65 percent for.

The six of us were standing soggily in his office, half an hour after the last fire truck had left. Pruitt had insisted on seeing all of us together. We were chilled and bedraggled, and just wanted to get our butts home.

But nooo.

First we had to listen to the headhunter chew us out. Granted, being chewed out by someone as horrible as the headhunter was a walk in the park compared to, say, having Erasers try to kill you. But still, an afternoon-ruiner, for sure.

“The stink bomb was reason enough!” Mr. Pruitt shouted. “But I stupidly gave you a second chance! You’re nothing but a bunch of street rats! Vermin!”

I was impressed. Vermin was a new one on me, and I’d been called everything from arrogant to zealous.

Mr. Pruitt paused to suck in a breath, and I jumped in.

“My brothers didn’t do the stink bomb! You never proved it. Now you’re accusing us again with no evidence! How - how un-American!”

I thought the headhunter was going to pop a vessel. Instead he reached out and grabbed the Gasman’s hands, holding them in the air.

My heart sank as I saw the smudges of black powder, ground into his skin when the bomb went off.

“Besides that!” I blustered.

The headhunter seemed to swell with new rage, but just at that moment, the assistant showed Anne into the office.

She didn’t work for the FBI for nothing - somehow she managed to calm the headhunter down and shooed us out of the office and into her Suburban.

For half a mile there was silence in the car, but then she started in.

“This was your big opportunity, kids,” she began. “I’d had higher hopes….”

There was a bunch more, but I tuned it out, gazing through my window at the fading autumn color. Every once in a while words floated into my consciousness: grounded, big trouble, disappointed, upset, no TV And so on.

None of us said anything. It had been years since we’d had to answer to any grown-up. We weren’t about to start now.

What Anne didn’t get was that only weeks ago we’d been sleeping in subway tunnels and scrounging for food. So being “grounded” and not able to watch TV was. like, meaningless.

“We still have this whole house,” Nudge pointed out in a whisper. “It’s full of books and games and food.”

“No dessert, though.” Total said mournfully. “And I didn’t do anything!”

“Yeah, no dessert,” said the Gasman indignantly.

I glared at him. “And whose fault is that, wise guy? You and Iggy screwed up again. For God’s sake, quit bringing explosives to school!”

“We did hear the headhunter telling Ms. Cox to bury some files,” the Gasman reminded me. “If we could find them, it might give us something to use against him.”

I sighed. “How about we just stay under the radar until we leave? Don’t retaliate, don’t do anything else. Just quietly get through the rest of our time here.”

“How long will we be here? Did you decide when you want to leave?” Angel asked.

“Yeah,” I said drily. “Two weeks ago.”

“Can we just stay through Thanksgiving?” Nudge asked. “We’ve never had a Thanksgiving meal. Please?”

I nodded reluctantly. “If no one else messes up, that should be okay.”

I went upstairs and headed to my room. As I passed Anne’s open door, I heard the TV. The words missing children caught my attention, and I paused, listening.

“Yes, the recent disappearance of several area children has brought back difficult memories for other parents who have lost children, whether recently or years ago. We’re talking now with Mr. and Mrs. Griffiths, whose only son was taken from a local hospital right after his birth.” I froze. Griffiths was Iggy’s last name - we thought. I remembered that much from the legible papers we found at the Institute in New York - before they disappeared. But the Institute file had also said that Iggy’s father was dead. So these people couldn’t be his parents - could they? Riveted, I edged my way forward a few inches so I could watch the TV through the partially open door. I heard Anne in her bathroom, brushing her teeth.

“You’d think that after fourteen years, it would get easier,” said the woman sadly. “But it doesn’t. It’s the same pain, all the time.”

My breath caught in my throat. Fourteen years? Griffiths? The reporter’s image cleared and was replaced by a couple. The man had his arm around his wife’s shoulders. They both looked sad.

One other thing.

The woman looked just like Iggy.

Fang looked intently at me, peering through the strands of hair that always covered his eyes.

“They were standing in front of their house. I saw enough to recognize it if I saw it again,” I told him in a fast whisper. It was late, and everyone else was asleep. I’d waited till now to tell Fang what I’d seen. “Their name was Griffiths. Their kid disappeared fourteen years ago. And the woman was the spitting image of Iggy”

Fang shook his head slowly, thinking. “I can’t believe you would just happen to see that.”

“I know. But how could it possibly be a setup? We weren’t even allowed to watch TV today. I just - I think we have to check it out.”

Fang shook his head again. “How many houses are there in the DC area?”

“This house had a big, dark church behind it, like on the next block. It was old-fashioned, and the spire was really tall. How many of those are there?”

Fang sighed. “About a million.”

“Fang! This is a huge break! Of course we should go check it out!”

He looked at me. “But we’re grounded,” he said with a straight face.

I stared at him for a second, and then we both burst out laughing.

“What’s wrong?” Fang had been acting a little off all night. Now we were flying high over the lights of DC, and he kept wiping his forehead and rolling his shoulders.

“I’m way hot,” he muttered. “But I don’t feel sick. Just - way hot.”

“Like I did?” I raised my eyebrows. “Huh. Give it a week; you’ll be flying like the Concorde. I think. Or, you know, you’re dying.” I shot him a grin, which he didn’t return. “What? You feel really bad?”

“No. But I just thought of something. I have your blood in me.”

I looked at him, his wide, dark wings moving smoothly, powerfully through the night air.

“So? It was just blood.”

He shook his head. “Not our blood. The red cells have DNA, remember? I got transfused with your DNA.”

I thought. “Uh, so?”

He shrugged. “So maybe that’s why this is happening. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to happen to me.”

“Hmm,” I said. “And we don’t know if that’s bad or good or nothing.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” he said.

Turns out there are practically hundreds of freaking tall church steeples in the DC area. Though finding the right one tonight seemed amusingly unlikely, we cruised around, looking for a steeple in a residential neighborhood. We dropped down more than a dozen times, but once I had scanned all the close-by houses, we took to the air again.

After three hours of this, we were hungry and tired. We didn’t even have to speak-just looked at each other, shrugged, and turned in unison to head back to Anne’s place-It was around 3:00 a.m. when we got back to Anne’s. We headed toward the window we’d left open, in a little-used storeroom on the second floor.

“Fang.” He looked at me, and I gestured at the house with one hand.

We could see Anne’s silhouette clearly in the window of her room. She was awake and looking for us at 3:00 a.m. Didn’t that woman ever sleep?

Was Anne just a spy? For the FBI or someone else?

Suddenly I felt exhausted. We coasted down to the house, tucked our wings in at the last second, and zipped through the window. We stacked hands and tapped them, then went to our separate rooms. I kicked off my shoes and fell into bed in my clothes. I didn’t expect Anne to come to my room.

She’d already seen everything she needed to see.

The next couple of weeks were the most surreal ones of my life, and that’s saying something, since it beats growing up in a cage, being on the run, finding other mutants in a lab deep below the subways of New York City, and, oh yeah, having wings.

This was way weirder than that.

Nothing awful happened.

We went back to school, and it was business as usual, except that Gazzy and Iggy somehow managed to get through their days without detonating anything. A first.

The headhunter stayed out of our way, perhaps for health reasons, trying to avoid an apoplectic fit.

Angel’s teacher seemed to behave pretty normally - like, she didn’t suddenly take her class to a toy store and buy them anything they wanted. That would have been a tip-off for me.

Nudge got invited to a birthday party. A nonmutant birthday party. Anne promised to help her find an outfit that would hide her wings but still look normal.

And - brace yourself. I saved the best and the worst for last:

That guy Sam asked me on a date.

“You what?” Iggy burst out.

“I got asked on a date,” I repeated, flinging mashed potatoes onto my plate.

“Oh. Max!” Nudge said.

“You’re kidding.” said the Gasman with his mouth full. He laughed, trying not to spit food. “What a loser! What’d he say when you shot him down?”

I busily cut my steak.

“You said yes. didn’t you?” Nudge asked.

“Oh, my God,” said Iggy, his hand on his forehead. “Max on a date. I thought we were trying to avoid tears and violence and mayhem.”

Yet another frustrating instance of dagger glances not working on Iggy.

“I think it’s great,” said Angel. “Max is beautiful. She should go on dates.”

“What are you going to wear?” Anne asked with a smile.

“Don’t know,” I muttered, my face getting hot.

And did you notice who didn’t say one word?

Right.

“Just think of it as a recon mission.”

Fang leaned against my door frame, watching me stare at myself in the dresser mirror.

“What?” I asked testily. “I’m fine.” I tucked my shirt in and pulled on the oversize velour hoodie that would hide my wings. I hoped.

“Uh-huh. Usually when you look like that, I know you’re about to hurl.”

“I’m fine,” I said tightly, trying not to hyperventilate. What was I doing? How stupid was I to agree to this? Maybe I should call him and cancel. I could say I was sick. I could -

The doorbell rang. Fang gave me an unholy grin and headed downstairs.

“Gosh, five brothers and sisters,” Sam said.

“Yeah. What about you?” We were waiting in line to buy movie tickets.

“Three older sisters,” he said. “They make my life a living hell. Fortunately, the two oldest are off at college now.”

I smiled. Talking to Sam was easier than I’d expected. And for the next two hours, I wouldn’t have to talk at all.

The film we saw was an incredibly violent military-espionage-action thing that looked like home movies from my childhood. Mostly I sat in the dark, analyzing fight scenes and praying that Sam wouldn’t try to hold my hand. What if my palms were sweaty? I nervously rubbed them on my jeans.

When the movie was over, we decided to get ice cream at a little shop down the block. As I was trying to think of something to say, Sam reached over and took one of my hands.

Just like that, we were holding hands. It wasn’t bad.

At Ye Olde Ice Cream Shoppe, we got our orders and sat down at a little marble-topped table. I was wondering how far I could throw the table, if necessary, when Sam asked. “So what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“Just having dinner with Anne, I think,” I said.

“It’s too bad you won’t be with your parents.”

“True.” I nodded and applied myself to my sundae.

“We’re going to have hell dinner with the relatives,” Sam said. He held up his maraschino cherry. “Want mine?”

“Yep.” He put it on top of my sundae and smiled. I smiled back. “Why is it hell dinner?”

He made a face. “My two oldest sisters will be back. There will be much hogging of the bathrooms, phone, and TV. My uncle Ted will talk nonstop about his business, which is insurance.”

I winced in sympathy.

“Mom will try to keep Aunt Phyllis away from the liquor, but it won’t work. Dad will be trying to watch the football game, so he’ll be shouting at the TV and spilling corn nuts on the carpet.” Sam shrugged. I liked the way his chestnut hair sort of fell over his forehead. And he had nice eyes. Hazel colored. Kind of tortoiseshell.

“Sounds pretty bad,” I said. Was that kind of Thanksgiving common? I had no idea. I only knew what I’d seen on TV. What kind of Thanksgiving would my old friends Ella and Dr. Martinez have?

Sam shrugged again. “It’ll suck. But then it’ll be over, and I’ll have four weeks to brace myself for Christmas.”

I laughed, and he grinned back at me, A slight movement behind him caught my eye. Sam had his back to the big plate-glass window, and someone had walked past it. No - someone was still there.

My hand froze in midair, and my heart felt encased in ice.

Ari was outside, giving me a predator’s grin and a thumbs-up sign.

Right in the middle of my freaking date.

Quickly I glanced around the shop. There was an exit behind the counter. I could knock over this table to slow him down …

“Max? Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered absently, my eyes locked on Ari. He grinned again at me, then walked past the window. I saw a flash of streaked hair next to him, and then I saw my reflection in the window.

Sam turned to see what I was looking at just as Ari slipped out of sight.

I sat very still, waiting for Erasers to burst through the window, drop through the ceiling.

Sam was still looking at me quizzically. “You okay?” he asked again.

“Um-hmm.” I tried to look normal. “Just thought I saw something.”

Believe what you know, not what you see.

Okay, so not only Erasers butting in, but don’t you just hate it when the little Voice inside your brain starts talking at you during a date? I know I sure do. And what did it mean? I already knew Ari was still alive.

“Max?”

I gave Sam my attention again. “Sorry - got distracted.” I smiled apologetically at him. I was on full alert, ready to spring into action, but nothing was happening.

“I like how you’re eating a whole sundae,” said Sam. “Some girls would be like, Oh, just a small fat-free scoop in a cup. But you’re all over that thing.”

I laughed, startled, wondering if I should feel embarrassed. “I don’t worry about what I eat.” Just, you know. if I’m going to eat.

“I like it,” Sam said again.

And I am liking you, I thought.

We got a ride back to Anne’s with Sam’s third-oldest sister, who’d just gotten her license. Sam walked me up to Anne’s front porch.

“Thanks,” I said, feeling awkward and at a loss again. “I had a really good time.”

“Me too,” said Sam. “You’re not like other girls I’ve met.”

You can say that again, pal.

“Is that good or bad?” I asked.

“Good. Definitely good.” Sam really did have a nice smile. He moved closer to me, put one hand on my shoulder and the other under my chin. My eyes went wide when he kissed me. We were almost the same height, and he wasn’t as lean and hard as Fang. He kissed me again, angling his head the other way, and he put his arms around my waist.

You know what? My wings didn’t even cross my mind. I closed my eyes and just went with it. Oh, my God, kissing.

Go with the flow, Max.

For once, the Voice had something worthwhile to say.

An irritated little beep came from the car - Sam’s sister wanted to get home.

We broke apart, both of us wide-eyed and laughing a little.

“Whoa,” Sam said, and I nodded in agreement.

“You better go,” I said. “But thanks again, for everything. It was great.”

“Yeah.” Sam looked like he wanted to kiss me again, but his sister tapped the horn once more. Looking regretful, he went down the steps and across the dark driveway. “Talk to you tomorrow,” he called back over his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

They drove off, leaving me alone with feelings I didn’t even have words for.

Anne was waiting for me inside. “How was it?” she asked, standing up and smiling.

* “Fine,” I said. “Well, good night.” I kept walking and went up the stairs. I wasn’t trying to be rude, not that that usually bothers me, but I just couldn’t talk to her about anything that mattered. I went up to my room and sat on my bed, reliving the last ten minutes.

My door opened slightly, and Fang put his head around it. He came in holding one hand over his eyes. “Whoa,” he said. “Your happy glow. It’s blinding.”

I rolled my eyes at him, then pulled off my hoodie. I wiggled my shoulders and let my wings untuck a little bit. Ahh. That felt better. I’d been holding them in tight all night. I wondered if Sam had felt them at all. He hadn’t screamed or looked horrified, so I guessed not.

Fang shut the door. “They wanted to stay up to wait for you, but Anne made them go to bed.”

“Good thinking on Anne’s part,” I said.

“So? How was it?” Fang leaned against my desk and crossed his arms over his chest. I heard something in his voice and looked up at his face. As usual, he looked completely impassive, but I knew him so well that I could read the almost indiscernible twitch of his jaw muscle, the slight tightening around his eyes.

“I saw him - what’s the phrase? oh, yeah - ’stuck to you like glue.’ So I guess you got along all right.” Fang waited as I tried to figure out what was going through his head.

“Yeah,” I said finally. ‘There’s a lot of that going around.”

He looked a little embarrassed, and I kicked off my sneakers. Fang sat down next to me, leaning against my headboard. “So you like him. I don’t have to kill him.” His voice was tense.

I shrugged. “Yeah. He was really nice. We had a good time.”

“But… ?”

I rubbed my temples with my hands. “But so what? He could be the nicest guy in the world, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m still a mutant freak. We’re still in a situation I hate more every day. We can’t trust anyone. We can’t solve the code mystery. We can’t find our parents - not that it would help if we did.”

Fang was quiet.

“I saw Ari tonight,” I said, and his head came up. “He was standing outside the ice cream shop. He smiled at me. And there was someone with him….” I paused, thinking back to that flash of blond hair. “I saw -” Then it hit me. I’d thought I’d seen my reflection in the window. But I hadn’t.

I turned slowly and looked at Fang. “Ari had me with him. There was a me outside the window.” My stomach took a dive.

Fang blinked: his version of complete astonishment.

“I saw a flash of blond-streaked hair in the van that day they attacked us,” I said. “And tonight I saw that same hair, outside with Ari. I thought it was my own reflection in the window. But it wasn’t a reflection. It was a me.”

He didn’t bother asking me if I was sure. He knew he didn’t have to.

“Holy crap,” he said, trying to process this. “A Max on the dark side. Pretty much the worst thing I can think of. Jesus. Another Max. A bad Max. Crap.”

“That’s not all,” I said slowly. “You know how I said if I went bad, I’d want you to - do anything you had to, to keep the others safe?”

He looked at me warily. “Yeah.”

“The reason I asked about that…” I took a deep breath and looked away. “A couple times, when I’ve looked into a mirror, I’ve - seen myself morph. Into an Eraser.”

Fang didn’t say anything.

“I touch my face, and it feels just the same. Human, smooth. But the mirror shows me as an Eraser.” I looked down. I couldn’t believe I was admitting this out loud.

There was a long silence. Seconds ticked by like hours.

“I bet you looked kind of Pekingesey,” Fang said finally.

I snapped my head up to look at him. He seemed very calm, very normal, despite what I’d just told him. “What?”

“Bet you were kind of cute, pup girl.” He bared his teeth as if they were fangs and made a little growling sound. “Rrrff!” he said, and made a pouncing motion at me.

I smacked him upside the head. He dodged to one side, laughing, but I jumped to my feet, angry. He held his hands up in surrender and with difficulty stopped laughing.

“Look,” said Fang, trying to keep a straight face. “I know you’re not an Eraser. I don’t know why you saw that in the mirror, and I don’t know who the other Max is, but I know who you are, all the way through. And you’re not an Eraser. And even if I saw you as an Eraser, I would still recognize you. I know you’re not evil, no matter what you might look like.”

I thought of the Voice telling me to believe what I knew rather than what I saw, and tears started to my eyes. I sank back down onto the bed, just wanting to go to sleep and not think about anything.

“Thanks,” I told Fang in a broken voice.

He stood up, then smoothed my hair with his hand. “You’re fine,” he said quietly.

“Don’t you dare put any of this in your blog,” I warned him. “Don’t even think about it for a millisecond.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, and left my room.