Fang

“It’s time, Max,” Angel went on firmly. “You know it is.” She looked at the rest of the flock. “You guys know it too. It’s time for Max and Fang to move on.”

46

“MOVE ON?” I tried to ignore the squeak in my voice. “Have you been breathing next to Gazzy too long? What the heck are you talking about?”

“We used to be one flock,” Angel said, steely-eyed. “Now it’s like we’re a flock of four and a sub-flock of two. So maybe you guys should go be your own flock, by yourselves.”

“Listen, missy,” I began, letting danger drip from my words. “I’m still here, day in, day out, doing for this flock. So don’t be telling me -”

“I don’t have to tell you or anyone else anything!” Angel exploded. “We have eyes! We see how it is! All you think about is how to get away with Fang for a while! So I think it’s time you really got away!”

“I planned the whole birthday party!” I said. “For all of us! I helped create this house! For all of us!”

I shot looks at the rest of the angry – and in a few cases alarmed – flock. Dylan was frowning slightly, his face guarded. I wondered if he’d had anything to do with this.

“Angel?” said Jeb. “Be careful. I agree there might be need for a change. But maybe if I come back, we can all work toge -”

“Max.” Angel interrupted Jeb as if he didn’t exist. Her voice was quiet and calm. “I love you. I don’t wish you harm. But like you’ve said yourself, we’re only as strong as the weakest one of us. Right now, you’re making the flock weaker because your head and your heart aren’t with us. It’s time for you to move on. It’s time for me to be the leader.”

“You?” Jeb looked confused. I guessed he’d missed the first eighteen times Angel had tried to take over the flock.

“Oh, not this again!” I burst out, waving my arms. “Just once I’d like to be able to turn around without you stabbing me in the back!”

Angel’s face paled, but she stood firm. “Max, this has been coming for some time. You’re trying to have it all, and you just can’t. Look – it’s time for a vote. Max goes. Everyone who agrees, raise your hand.”

I blustered some more, but my heart sank as Iggy slowly raised his hand. His nose had stopped bleeding, but dark bruises were forming around his eyes.

Nudge, my Nudge, was next. Her cheeks were scraped, her shirt collar flecked with blood. She looked near tears, like she was making an impossible choice – but still choosing not me.

Gazzy raised his hand, not looking at me. His knuckles were swollen and scratched. And of course Angel had her hand up.

“Fang?” I turned to him. He wasn’t looking at me. He was glowering at Dylan, who was ever-so-subtly shaking his head. Like they were having some private guy talk.

“Fang! Tell them they’re overreacting.”

“Everyone is overreacting,” Fang said very slowly. “Even you.”

For a moment, I was speechless. Was Fang turning his back on me? Did Dylan have mind control powers like Angel? Was he doing a number on Fang?

Anything seemed possible.

“You’re my family,” I began, then stopped quickly as my voice threatened to break. I cleared my throat and tried again. “After the last time the flock split up, I swore I would do anything to keep us together, no matter what, for always. But it kind of takes all of us wanting to stay together.” I let out my breath slowly, to keep from crying. I shook my head. “I think you guys are making a mistake.”

The room was completely still and silent.

“But I can’t make you want me to stay.” I blinked a couple times, as if I would suddenly wake from an awful dream into a better reality – like, some stranger coming at me with an ice pick, ready to gouge my eyes out.

“So you’re sure? You want me to go?”

Nudge’s lip was quivering; none of them seemed happy, but they didn’t seem to be changing their minds either.

I couldn’t look at Fang. If he’d been holding up his hand, I would have wanted to just drop into the canyon like a stone, wings tucked in tight.

I nodded and swallowed. “Okay, then. Later.”

I turned and sprinted out through the smashed deck doors, bounced once off the deck railing, and launched myself into the sky, which seemed a million times bigger and wilder than it ever had.

PART THREE. WHAT HAPPENS IN HOLLYWOOD… STAYS IN HOLLYWOOD

47

I FELT PRACTICALLY BLINDED by pain and shock and had so many tears streaming from my eyes that I could barely see where I was flying.

I opened my mouth and shrieked, as loud and as wildly as I wanted. “Ohhgodohhnooooiiihitjusthurrrtssssooomuuuch!” The scream was torn from my throat by the wind, and finally I choked, sucking in air, half sobbing, my voice raw from yelling for so long.

In overdrive, I can hit speeds of close to three hundred miles per hour, and so in less than half an hour I’d gone into the next state over. Now utah stared back at me blankly as I slowed and came to a drifting stop at the top of a tree. I had to take a minute out of my new life to… break down and sob like a baby. I worked my way steadily through rage, hurt, embarrassment, back through rage, and then to some random emotion that seemed to need ice cream.

Gulping, I saw a heart-stoppingly familiar black streak in the sky, headed right for me. Was he coming just to say good-bye?

I desperately prayed that he hadn’t heard any of my meltdown. The whole thing was such a huge slobbery mess that I couldn’t take one more iota of emotion.

“Hey,” I said hoarsely, as he landed on a neighboring branch, making the tree sway. I wiped my face quickly, knowing I had to look like hell, my eyes bleary from freeze-dried tears.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, with his funny lopsided smile, and I almost burst into tears again.

My eyes must have been full of questions, because he shrugged and said, “Things seem somewhat under control. Jeb wants to take over the flock again. I figured I’d let him and Angel duke it out.”

I’m supposed to be brave, right? Prove it, Max. I forced myself to ask: “Are you, um, going back?”

“Nah,” he said, brushing hair out of my face. “Figured I’d rather hang with you.”

I felt hope light my face, and I didn’t try to hide it.

“You know how I feel,” said Fang, and he bent down, holding on to his branch, and kissed me. I felt like we were suspended in air, and having Fang here, knowing that he, at least, had chosen me, everything seemed a smidgen less agonizingly painful.

“So what should we do now?” I asked breathlessly when we broke away from each other. I’d been the leader so long – I was always the one who decided where we were going, what we were going to do. It felt freeing to be asking him to decide.

“Actually, I’m thinking… Vegas,” he said. “Let’s go to Las Vegas.”

“ Las Vegas?” I repeated stupidly.

“Yeah,” he said, trailing one finger down my cheek. I felt a coolness there, as if he’d hit a stray tear. “I figure – not too far away, full of freaks so we’ll blend, plenty of weird stuff to do…”

I smiled and breathed easier for the first time in hours. “Sounds perfect.”

48

“HAVE YOU BACKED UP the data?” The head of information finished scanning the shift tech’s notes for Area 8 and leaned over her shoulder to look at her computer screen. “Subject Twenty-two appears to be… abnormal. Off program. Let’s take a closer look at the images.”

The tech clicked her mouse quickly through the static scenes. The image on the screen changed from an empty living area with one lamp burning to a darkened kitchen area. The kitchen was a mess, with dirty plates and pots and glasses stacked on every surface. Food containers had been left open, unrefrigerated. The next image was a long, empty hallway with large windows on one side. After that was a bedroom.

“This is Subject Twenty-two, sleeping in Subject One’s bed, since she isn’t there,” the tech said. “During the day he’s mostly been practicing flying, but at night he’s been restless, not sleeping deeply. It could be that his circadian rhythms haven’t stabilized yet. His physio readings suggest that he’s anxious or unhappy.”

“Yes. His prime focus went away.”

“I see. Before he went to sleep, he walked around the room, examining everything, touching everything, even smelling things.”

“He’s imprinting,” said the head of information. “That’s good. But the notes indicate he’s made no attempt to follow Subject One. Can you confirm?”

“His flying skills are improving, but at this stage wouldn’t enable long-distance -”

“Irrelevant,” the head jumped in dismissively. “His programming should compel him to use any means available. Possibly a minor malfunction,” she speculated, dropping the tech’s notes on the desk. “But possibly a major one. Keep an especially close eye on that one’s stats.” She swiveled on her heel and in a flash was gone.

The tech bit her lip. The heads – as intimately familiar with the details of their constructions as they were – somehow all seemed to forget that the subjects were not, in fact, robots.

There was no malfunction. It was simply that the soul could not be programmed.

49

I WAS WORKING through Italian spumoni on a cone as Fang and I threaded our way amid the streaming crowds on the sidewalk. Those of you who haven’t been to Vegas – well, it’s bizarre in