“What?” Iggy asked.
“I’m going to turn fifteen tomorrow,” I said, warming to the idea. “It’s high time. I can’t remember when I turned fourteen. We’ve got to start writing this stuff down. Anyway, tomorrow I’m going to be fifteen. So we need a party.”
“If you get to be fifteen, then I get to be fifteen!” Iggy sounded indignant.
I looked at Fang. “Wanna be fifteen?”
His smile melted me. “Yeah.”
“I want to be twelve!” Nudge cried.
“I’m nine! I’m nine!” said Gazzy, jumping up and down.
“I’m already seven, but I didn’t have a party,” said Angel.
“Then it’s decided,” I said in my leaderly way. “We’re all turning a year older tomorrow, and we’re going to have a big party.”
My flock cheered and started dancing around the room. I sighed happily.
Sometimes being a good leader is knowing when to… back off.
30
“ME AND MY BIG MOUTH,” I muttered, looking around my room. “Sure, let’s have a party; let’s all get a year older! Excellent idea, Max. But what are you gonna do for presents?”
The six of us had never had much, and we’d been on the run, on the road, for so long that we’d been forcibly pared down to having, like, nothing. But I wanted to do this right -’cause what’s a birthday party without presents?
I had about twenty hours. I was going to have to improvise. Opening my bedroom window, I climbed onto the sill and looked out over the canyon. I was stopped by a sudden thought.
I knew what I really wanted to get Iggy for his birthday.
And I knew where to get it.
But… I just couldn’t pay that price. I couldn’t.
I leaned forward and let myself drop into the air, enjoying the thrill of free-falling before snapping my wings out and rising.
Let’s see the doctor touch the sky!
“Do you think she’d like a bomb of her own?” Gazzy asked Iggy.
Iggy thought. “I kind of don’t think so. She usually just relies on us to do all that.”
“Well, what can I give her?” Gazzy ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Bombs are the only thing I know how to make!”
“Well, here’s an idea,” said Iggy, and leaned over to whisper into Gazzy’s ear.
A smile slowly widened on Gazzy’s face. He rubbed his hands together. “Brillllliant.”
Nudge sang softly to herself as she worked. It had been totally worth it, lugging everything back from Europe and New York. Look at how handy these things were now! Her backpack had been stuffed, and she’d hidden 80 percent of everything she’d bought, sure that Max would make her dump it as being not worth lugging around, a liability in case of a fight, etc., etc., etc. Now it was all paying off.
Two presents down, three to go. She smiled as she reached for the hot-glue gun.
Angel straightened, listening. Overhead she heard the cries of a hawk, and she shaded her eyes to watch it wheel through the sky. She loved flying with hawks. They’d all learned a lot from them. You’d think that flying would be as natural as walking, and it was, in a way, but it was also a skill that could be improved.
Other than the hawks, she was alone in the canyon. She had most of what she needed, but a couple more things would be perfect. Her sharp eyes darted here and there, searching in the shadows, checking out every shape, every outline.
Oh, there! Perfect! It was amazing that vultures hadn’t picked the bones clean.
It was just what she needed for the presents she was making.
Fang saw the shine of familiar brown hair way down the street and stepped back quickly into the shadow of a storefront. What was she doing here, more than a hundred miles from home? He smiled: no doubt the same thing he was doing.
So far he was in good shape: He’d gotten a really scary thriller novel on CD for Iggy. It was totally inappropriate for kids, and he knew Ig would love it. For Nudge he’d bought a dozen different fashion magazines, all about hair and clothes and makeup. He could already imagine her squealing with joy, then disappearing for several days to curl up somewhere and pore over every page.
For Gazzy? A history of explosives and how they’d been used in warfare for thousands of years. It was like giving candy to a diabetic, but it was perfect.
Angel had been a bit more difficult. Dolls or games or anything for a little kid just seemed too… young. She’d changed so much in the past year. She didn’t even sleep with Celeste anymore, the ballerina bear she’d scammed for, so long ago. And yet, she was still a little kid.
He’d finally settled on a camera. And he hoped she would use it for good instead of evil. The first time she rigged it up in the boys’ bathroom, he’d take a baseball bat to it.
And for Max – Fang smiled even as his heart began to pound a little harder. He hoped she would like what he got her. He hoped she wouldn’t say it wasn’t practical or whatever. But with Max, you never knew.
It was one of the things he loved best about her.
31
“IG, YOU HAVE outdone yourself,” I said, taking another bite of chocolate cake.
Iggy grinned and cut himself a second slice, which meant there was only about half an acre of cake left, slathered with a couple bathtubs’ worth of icing.
“You have to get the right proportion of cake to ice cream,” Gazzy said. “Each bite needs cake, frosting, and ice cream, all at once. It’s the combination that really makes it.” He managed to get his carefully loaded spoonful into his mouth before it dropped onto his shirt. Like the last one had.
“And thank you to Fang for getting the ice cream,” I said, waving in his direction. “And the balloons!”
Everyone chimed, “Thank you!” while Fang bowed.
My happy, chocolate-smeared bird kids were relaxed, laughing, having the best time we’d had in – ever. It was the perfect way to celebrate our new house, our new lives.
“Is it present time?” Nudge asked, bouncing in her seat. “I can’t wait anymore!”
“Yes,” I said, and everyone cheered. So let me see: have party, massive amounts of cake and sugar, presents, etc., and I’m super popular. Insist on schooling, homework, education, and everyone hates me. Okay, got it. “Who wants to go first?”
“Me, me!” Angel jumped up and rummaged in a paper grocery bag, pulling out small packages wrapped in the Sunday comics – one for each of us.
I quickly ripped open the paper on mine, and something small fell into my lap. I picked up a necklace strung on a black silk cord.
“It’s a good-luck charm,” said Angel. “I made it myself. I found all the stuff outside.”
My necklace was weird and beautiful, not unlike Angel herself. “Is this a… snake jaw?” I asked. Angel nodded. The small, sharp fangs of a snake’s lower jaw spiked delicately among eagle feathers, bits of worn glass, and some ancient aluminum pop-tops from soda cans.
“See?” said Angel. “It’s like you: kind of dangerous but really pretty and strong and unusual. See?”
The bits of glass caught the light and glittered like gems. I nodded, really touched. “Thank you,” I said, and gave her a big hug, like old times.
Each of us had a similar but unique necklace, and each necklace really reflected who we were. Fang’s was all black obsidian, the top half of the snake jaw, and some eagle feathers. She’d really put a lot of thought and work into them.
“Now mine!” said Nudge, pulling out her wrapped gifts.
I’d never had so many presents all at once, and even though I was a big fifteen-year-old now, I couldn’t help feeling excited as I ripped off the wrapping paper.
Nudge had hot-glued all sorts of pretty shells and beads around a picture frame. It was gorgeous, too heavy to lug around, and totally not sturdy enough to survive even a light battle.
“Nudge, it’s beautiful! I love it!” I told her. She threw her arms around me, and I realized that she had grown several inches without my noticing.
“Oh, my, gosh.” Angel’s quiet voice got my attention. I looked over to see her holding a small digital camera, her eyes wide.
“Who gave you
Angel’s face shone. “Fang. Oh, I love it so much! I’ve wanted a camera for so long. The first thing I want to do is take a picture of all of us.”
“I can put it in my frame,” I said, holding it up. Nudge looked pleased.
“Here,” said Iggy. “I made fudge for everyone. Didn’t have time to wrap it.” He held out a large plate covered with neat squares of marbled chocolate-peanut butter fudge. I figured we had about forty minutes before we were all in sugar-induced comas.
“Max!” Gazzy cried. “Way cool!” He held up his certificate for one tattoo at the tattoo parlor a couple towns over. (No, I’m not going to mention which one.)
“I got one too!” Nudge squealed, waving it around. “I’m going to get a unicorn! Or a heart! Or a rainbow!”
“I’m going to get a stick of dynamite on my arm,” Gazzy said.
Okay, it wasn’t the most imaginative gift, but I’d been pretty sure everyone in the flock would like a tattoo. It looked like I was right.
Fang came and stood next to me. “This is for you.”
He held out a small box tied with satin ribbon. My heart started thumping hard, as if I’d been in a fight. With shaking fingers, I pulled off the ribbon and opened the box.
32
