Two Schools Out - Forever

by James Patterson

  "Huh," said Nudge. "The school's Web site says it's been in that building since 1985. But when I Google it, nothing shows up before two years ago."

  "Did they change the name?" Iggy asked.

  Fang shook his head. "Don't think so-it doesn't say that anywhere."

  I double-checked the mystery files. "The Standish Home had the exact same address. And look at this office stationery-it has a little drawing of the building." I showed it to the others. It was a drawing of our school, exactly.

  I looked up at the flock. "This can't be good," I said, with my natural gift for understatement.

  "Should we ask Anne about it?" Iggy asked.

  Fang and I met eyes. He gave the tiniest shake of his head.

  "What for?" I said. "Either she knows about it and is in on everything, so we don't want to tip her off that we know, or she only knows what they told her and so can't help us."

  We were quiet for a few moments, each of us thinking. I heard the TV click on in the kitchen. Anne took out pots and opened the fridge. The news was on, talking about an upcoming cold snap and who had won a recent college football game. Then a male newscaster said, "And in our nation's capital today, the president made a surprising announcement that has many politicos scratching their heads. Only three days before this year's budget was supposed to be presented, President Danning announced a stunning revision: He has taken back almost a billion dollars allotted to the military and is channeling it into public education, as well as nationwide shelters for homeless women and children."

  I froze.

  Fang and I exchanged looks of disbelief, then I looked at Angel. She was grinning. I heard Total laugh, and then Angel and Total slapped high fives. Well, Total slapped a high four.

  I dropped my head and rubbed my temples, which had suddenly started pounding. We had to get out of this town. Next Angel would be making the president ban homework or something.

  78

  That night, at exactly 11:05, six windows on the second floor of Anne's house opened. One by one we jumped out of our respective rooms, fell about eight feet, then snapped our wings open and got some uplift.

  The six of us flew through the dark, chilly night. There were no clouds, and the moon shone so brightly that the trees below us cast long shadows.

  The bat cave looked satisfyingly like something from a horror movie. Fang had discovered it weeks ago. It was set into an old limestone ridge a couple miles from the house. Overgrown vines, dead with approaching winter, obscured the entrance. We flew through them, trying not to get tangled, and braked to a fast stop inside. The cave was full of stalactites hanging down like teeth from the ceiling, and somewhere in the darkness there was an ominous drip of unseen water. About thirty feet in, the air became thick with the acidic smell of guano, so we stayed near the opening.

  "I bet no people have ever been in here," said Gazzy, sitting cross-legged in the entrance. "They'd have to rock climb just to get up here."

  "I wish we could see what's farther back," said Nudge.

  "Yeah, me too," said Iggy brightly.

  "Okay, guys," I said. "Listen, I've been thinking, and I really think it's time for us to move on. This has been a great break, but we're all rested, healed up, and we should disappear again."

  This announcement was not met with confetti and noisemakers.

  "I mean," I went on in the deafening silence, "Ari knows we're close by. He attacked us on our way home from school-he probably has cameras trained on Anne's house. The headhunter has it in for us. Now the weird files from the school, the mystery tunnel-it's all adding up to an ugly picture." Not to mention what Angel might be doing to the leader of the free world. I shot her a hard glance, in case she was listening in on my thoughts, and she grinned at me.

  "We should clear out of here before all this stuff starts hitting the fan."

  I saw Nudge and Gazzy glance at each other. Angel leaned her head against Iggy's shoulder. He patted her hair. More silence.

  "I mean, maybe this is where we learn to think smart, stay one step ahead of the game instead of having the game bite us in the ass."

  Or maybe this is the time you learn how to stay and make it work.

  I scowled. This isn't a relationship, Voice. It's a trap, or a test, or at best a surreal side trip on a journey that's already been fairly mind-blowing.

  "It's just that...," Nudge began, looking at Gazzy. He gave her an encouraging nod. "Well, Thursday's Thanksgiving. We only have half a day of school Wednesday, and then it's Thanksgiving."

  "We've never had a real Thanksgiving dinner before," said Angel. "Anne's going to make turkey and pumpkin pie."

  Frustration made me snide, in that endearing way I had. "Yeah, and that's worth staying in town for-Anne's home cooking."

  The younger kids looked abashed, and I felt like a jerk, raining on their parade.

  "I'm just-really antsy," I explained carefully. "I'm twitchy and nervous and feel like I want to be screaming through the sky on the way out of town, you know?"

  "We know," Nudge said apologetically. "It's just-she's going to make sweet potatoes with raisins and little marshmallows on top."

  I bit my lip hard in order to keep from saying, "Well, God knows that's worth sacrificing our freedom for! Why didn't you mention it earlier?"

  Instead I tried a smile that turned into a grimace, and turned around for a minute, as if I were examining the night sky. Through the vines. When I'd gotten more of a grip, I turned back to them.

  "Okay, so we'll stay for Thanksgiving," I said reluctantly. Their faces lit up, and I felt an anvil settling on my chest. "Those better be some good sweet potatoes."

  79

  "Did the thing pop yet?" Anne peered anxiously over my shoulder into the oven.

  "Uh, not yet," I said. "But it looks like it's doing okay." I compared the turkey in the oven to the picture on the stuffing package. "See? It's the right color."

  "Well, it's supposed to be done when that thing pops up."

  "I know," I said reassuringly. I'd heard her the first fifty times.

  "What if it's defective?" Anne looked stricken. "What if it never pops? What if it's my first turkey and our first Thanksgiving together and it's awful and dry and we all hate it?"

  "Well, no doubt that would be symbolic of our whole lifetime together," I said solemnly, then made a "kidding" face. "Uh, maybe you could supervise Zephyr with setting the table? He looked a little lost with all the extra silverware."

  Anne looked at me, nodded, glanced again at the oven window, then went into the dining room.

  "How's that stuffing coming?" I asked Nudge.

  "Okeydokey," she said, fluffing it in a pot with a large wooden salad fork. She read the package again. "I think it's done."

  "Looks good," I said. "Just set it aside. There's no way to make sure all this stuff comes out ready at the same time."

  "Cranberry sauce is good to go," Iggy said, jiggling the can so it slid out with a wet plop into a bowl. "I could have made some from scratch."

  "I know." I lowered my voice. "You're the only one here who can cook at all. But let's just go with the program."

  "I want a drumstick," said Total, from right under my feet.

  "Get in line," I told him, and went over to Fang. I watched what he was doing for a minute, and he turned to me with an "I dare you to say something" expression.

  "You're an artist," I managed. He turned back and surveyed the neat rows of marshmallows lined up across the casserole of mashed sweet potatoes.

  "We've all got crosses to bear," he said, and went back to work.

  I leaned down and looked into the oven again. "Anne? The little white thing popped up. I think it's ready."

  "Oh, my God!" Anne exclaimed from the other room. She rushed into the kitchen and grabbed some oven mitts. "It popped?" She was lunging for the oven door when suddenly she turned to me. "What if the popper thing is wrong? What if it's not really ready?"

  I looked at her. "Take the turkey out of the o
ven."

  She breathed out. "Right. Okay."

  Sheesh. Grown-ups.

  80

  Fifteen minutes later, we were all sitting around the dining-room table. Everything looked very schmancy. We had a white tablecloth and cloth napkins. Candles were lit. The food was on the table, looking like all the pictures on the packages.

  Gazzy was holding his fork and knife upright on the table, and I frowned at him and shook my head. He put them down.

  "How about we go around and each give thanks individually?" Anne said. "Ariel? Why don't you go first?"

  "Uh..." Angel looked at me, and I smiled tightly.

  Just do your best, sweetie, and don't give anything away. She gave me a tiny nod.

  "I'm thankful for my family," she said, gesturing at all of us. "I'm thankful I have a dog. I'm thankful I have Max to take care of me." And then, as if realizing that Anne was sitting right there, Angel added, "And I'm thankful that we've had this good time here. I really like this place."

  Anne smiled at her. "Thank you. Now Zephyr?"

  "Um, I'm thankful for all this food," said Gazzy. "And you know, my family. And being here."

  "Krystal?"

  "I'm thankful for food and my brothers and sisters," said Nudge. "And I'm thankful I have big brown eyes and long lashes. I'm thankful that we could stay here for a while. I'm thankful for MTV. And gummy worms."

  "All right," said Anne. "Jeff?"

  "Uh, what Zephyr said." Iggy's fingers drummed on the table. "Fnick's turn."

  Fang looked like he'd rather be at the dentist. "Me too. Family, food. Place to stay." His dark eyes met mine and his face flushed, like he was having one of those heat attacks.

  My turn. I was thankful for stuff-but not anything I wanted to mention in front of Anne. Silently I was thankful for all of us being together and being healthy. I was so thankful we had Angel back, and that we were free and not at the School. I was thankful we weren't being attacked by Erasers at this very minute. Bad things had happened to us, could happen again, but weren't happening now, and I wasn't stupid enough to take it for granted.

  "Uh, I'm thankful that we've had this time here," I said. "It's been really great. And, you know, thankful for my family, and for having plenty of food."

  Anne paused, as if waiting to see if anyone would add anything. "My turn, then. Thank you all for helping make our Thanksgiving meal. I never could have done it myself."

  You ain't whistling Dixie, I thought.

  "To me, it's even more meaningful that we all worked together to make our dinner," Anne continued. "I've never had children, never been that domestic. But these last weeks with you here, well, I've gotten a real idea of everything that I've been missing. I like the fact that my life is centered around yours. Amazingly, I like having a household of children."

  Total licked my leg under the table, and I almost yelped, then heard him chuckle softly.

  "It's chaotic, and tons of work, and expensive, and I get called to the school, and every night I fall into bed completely exhausted and know that I have to do it all again the next day." She looked around at us and smiled. "And now I wouldn't have it any other way."

  As speeches went, it was a pretty good one, I'll give her that.

  "So I sincerely hope that this Thanksgiving is only the first in a long line of Thanksgivings we'll share together." Again she smiled at us, letting her gaze linger on Angel. "Because I would like to adopt all of you."

  81

  "Yes, let's give thanks for what we have by leaving it," the Gasman muttered.

  "Gazzy, I told you-you don't have to come," I said.

  "Of course I have to come," he said, tying his sneakers-new ones that Anne had bought.

  "I just can't believe it," said Angel, bouncing a little on my bed.

  "It's what we've all waited for," said Nudge, sounding wistful. She looked over at Iggy quickly. "I'm glad it's happened to you, Iggy. I mean, it would be nice if it happened to all of us, but for the first one, I'm glad it was-" She stopped, as if realizing she was running on.

  "Thanks." Iggy was sitting tensely, shoes and coat already on. His face was flushed, and his long, slender fingers drummed nervously on his knees.

  Last night, after some of our Thanksgiving bloat had eased, Fang and I had told the others about possibly finding Iggy's parents. They'd all been stunned.

  "Do you want to go see them?" I'd asked Iggy.

  "Yeah, of course!" Iggy had said, then his eyebrows came together. "I'm not sure."

  "What?" Nudge shrieked. "How can you not be sure?"

  "It's what we've talked about before," Iggy said, looking self-conscious. "I mean, I'm blind now. I have wings. I'm a weird, mutant hybrid, and they've never seen anything like me. Maybe they would want the original, all-human me, but..."

  That was exactly what I was thinking. Personally, I thought that even if we found info on my parents, I probably wouldn't want to go ring their doorbell. And they probably wouldn't want me to either.

  "I understand," I said. "But it's up to you. We'll support you, whatever you decide."

  "Let me sleep on it," Iggy had said.

  "No prob," I'd said.

  So he'd thought about it and decided to go, and here we were.

  Fang opened my bedroom window wide. Nudge clambered onto the windowsill and launched herself into the air. The sun lit her tawny wings as she caught the wind and rose into the sky. One by one the rest of us followed, with me going last.

  It felt weird to be flying out in the middle of the day, but today was special. Today we were taking Iggy to see his parents, his real parents.

  I had no idea what would happen. Today could be filled with unbelievable joy or tearful heartbreak. Even if it ended with happiness for Iggy, the rest of us would get the heartbreak. Because we would be telling him good-bye. Which for me was too painful to begin to comprehend.

  We hadn't really talked about Anne's offer to adopt us. As far as I was concerned, it wasn't even worth thinking about. I wondered if any of the younger kids felt differently, and guessed I'd find out sooner or later. Probably sooner.

  After twenty minutes of flying, we were across the street from the house Fang and I had gone to several days before. It was the day after Thanksgiving, so we hoped they would both be home.

  "You ready?" I asked Iggy, taking his hand in mine. The only way I could get through this was to not think about the bigger picture. I could take only one second at a time.

  Iggy nodded stiffly, his sightless eyes staring straight ahead, as if by looking hard enough, he could make his parents' house come into view. He leaned down to whisper in my ear. "I'm scared."

  I squeezed his hand and whispered back, "If you weren't, I'd know you were nuts. But I think if you don't do this, you'll wonder about it forever."

  "I know. I know I have to do it. But..."

  He didn't have to say any more. Fourteen years ago, his parents had lost a perfect little baby. Now Iggy was almost six feet tall and blind, and "genetic hybrid" was the kind description.

  He shook his head and put his shoulders back. "Let's do this thing."

  The six of us crossed the street. It had clouded over a bit, and the wind was cold. I pulled Angel's coat tighter around her chin and tucked in her scarf. She looked up at me solemnly, her blue eyes expressing the same hopes and fears we were all feeling.

  I rang the doorbell. We were wound so tight it sounded like an enormous gong. A few moments later, the door opened, and the same woman as before looked out at me. Her brow furrowed slightly, as if she remembered my face but not from where.

  "Uh, hello... ma'am," I began, in that smooth handle-everything manner I have. "I saw you on TV, where you said you'd lost your son?"

  A look of sadness crossed her face. "Yes?"

  I stepped back so she could see Iggy. "I think this is him."

  Okay, so I'm not known for subtlety.

  For a second the woman frowned, about to get angry at me for yanking her chain, but then she l
ooked at Iggy and her frown changed to a look of puzzlement.

  Now that I saw them both together, the similarities were even more obvious. They had the same coloring, same body type, same cheekbones and chin. The woman blinked. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She put her hand to her chest and stared at Iggy. I gave Iggy's hand another squeeze-he had no idea what was going on and just had to wait in painful suspense.

  Then a man appeared. The woman stepped back and motioned silently to Iggy. Though Iggy looked very much like the woman, he did share some features with the man as well. They had the same nose, the same shape mouth. The man stared at Iggy, then looked around at all of us.

  "Wha...," he said, looking stunned.

  "We saw you on TV," I explained again. "We think this might be the son you lost, fourteen years ago." I put my arm through Iggy's and pulled him forward a little bit. "We call him Iggy. But I think his last name is really Griffiths, like yours."

  Iggy's fair face flushed, and he lowered his head. I could practically feel the pounding of his heart.

  "James?" the woman whispered, starting to reach out to Iggy. She stopped and looked at her husband. "Tom-is this James?" she asked wonderingly.

  The man swallowed visibly. He stepped back from the door. "Please, come in, all of you."

  I started to refuse-we never went into strange places where we might get trapped or caught. But I realized that this was where Iggy might stay, forever, and if I thought it was a trap, then we better get the heck out of here.

  So I swallowed hard and said, "Okay."

  As the others filed into the house, I shot a glance at Angel to see if she looked at all concerned or suspicious. But she just walked right in, so, with a tight feeling in my chest, I followed her.

  The inside of the house was nice, but not as fancy or big as Anne's. I looked around, thinking, This might be where Iggy will live from now on. He might eat dinner at that table and listen to that TV. It was starting to seem as if we'd fallen down the rabbit hole, you know? Weird, half-wolf mutants chasing us? Totally believable. The idea that Iggy might be moving into a normal existence? Totally mind-blowing.