“THIS IS THE COOLEST HOTEL EVER!” squealed Nudge, flopping facedown onto a king-size bed.
Angel was trying to get the snarls out of her blond curls, still wet from her shower. Through the doorway to the room next door, she heard Gazzy ordering room service – again. The kitchen had probably had to send someone out to get more groceries.
Nudge rolled off the bed and looked at herself in the mirror. “I’m twelve now. I don’t look different, but I feel different.” She stretched her wings out slowly, their feathers shades of tan, caramel, and coffee.
“You do look different,” said Angel. “We’re all taller. You don’t look like a little kid anymore – more teenagery. Iggy and… the others have really started looking older.”
“Can I come in?” Dylan leaned in the doorway connecting their two rooms.
“Sure,” said Nudge. “Have you recovered? That was a long flight.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t drop like a rock over the Grand Canyon,” Dylan said, leaning against the dresser. “I bet I won’t be able to move my wings tomorrow.”
“You did great,” said Angel. “Aren’t you glad you came with us?”
Dylan shrugged and brushed some hair out of his face. He already looked like a Hollywood star – some teenage girls had whispered and pointed at him when the flock had been checking in.
Dylan was doing pretty well at fitting in with the rest of the flock. He wasn’t demanding, and he was a good listener and a good fighter. Angel loved Fang a lot, but Dylan was… easier. Warmer. He talked more. It was almost as if he were made to be with them.
A knock on the door made Nudge pull her wings in fast.
Angel hurried over and peeped through the eyehole.
“Bad guys or good guys?” Nudge asked.
Angel smirked. “Bad guys,” she said, and pulled open the door.
Four men came in, looking around with avid curiosity. They were all very tan, dressed casually but in nice clothes and jackets. One of them was chewing gum.
“Who are you?” Dylan asked.
“Joe Harkins,” one of them said, holding out a tanned hand. “Pleased to meetcha. From Talent unlimited. Here’s my card.” He pressed a business card into Dylan’s hand.
Another knock on the door almost went unheard as the men started shaking each bird kid’s hand, introducing themselves eagerly. Gazzy opened the door and let in Jeb, Total, and Akila.
“Whoa, you brought your dogs!” one man exclaimed, and Angel hoped Total wouldn’t bite him on the ankle.
“Hello, son,” one of the men said to Dylan, looking him up and down. “Now, that’s what I call star quality! All of you, of course! Talent unlimited couldn’t be happier to offer representation!”
“Talent unlimited?” Jeb asked.
“Yep! And your kids here are pure gold,” said Joe Harkins. He literally rubbed his hands together. “Now, let’s talk numbers. Kids, why don’t you guys go play in the pool downstairs while Dad and I talk business?”
Angel heard Total choking back laughter. It was time to show these guys who was the leader.
“He’s not our dad,” she said, her face serious. “He won’t be making decisions for us.” Keeping her eyes on the agents, she unfolded her wings.
The men stared. Angel could almost see dollar signs in their eyes, like in cartoons.
“I’ll be negotiating our contract,” Angel said solemnly. “Why don’t we sit down over here?”
The room fell silent as the men waited for someone to say she was kidding. When no one did, Angel motioned again to the table and chairs set up in the suite’s dining area. The men hesitated.
“I hear the usual agent share is fifteen percent,” Angel said, concentrating, focusing. “We need ninety-five percent.” Chuckling at Angel’s joke, they relaxed and trickled over to the table to sit down.
Of course, Angel wasn’t joking. An hour later, they got up, looking pale, shaken, and incredulous. They stared at the copies of the contract on the table like they couldn’t believe they had actually signed them.
“ ’Kthnxbye!” Angel said brightly, opening the door for them. The men wandered out as if they had just barely survived a crash.
“What did you do to them?” Jeb asked.
“Persuaded them.” Angel’s too innocent face wouldn’t have fooled a kindergartner. “Isn’t that what a good leader would do?”
“Angel, we’ve talked about -,” Jeb began.
“Come on, everyone!” Angel cried. “Press conference by the pool!”
59
“REPORTERS?” GAZZY ASKED. “Max will kill us if she finds out about this.”
“Max isn’t in charge anymore,” Angel reminded him coolly. “It’s time the world knew about our special abilities.”
“I’m not feeling that special right now,” said Iggy, hunched over in a chair. “I’ve been feeling weird all afternoon.”
Nudge frowned. “Me too. Not sick, exactly, but weird. Like, tingly, all over.”
Jeb heard this last bit and he quickly searched Nudge’s face. “Tingly? On your skin or inside?”
“All over,” said Nudge.
“I feel that way too,” said Gazzy. “I didn’t even realize it till you said it. I thought it was just the PowerDrives kicking in.”
“Let’s get through this press conference,” Angel said briskly, “then we can figure out what’s going on.” She was feeling weird herself, but it was showtime, folks.
Ten minutes later, they were stretched out on lounge chairs by the hotel pool.
“Where’s our waiter?” Nudge asked ten minutes after that. She tipped her pink star-shaped sunglasses down on her nose. “I need more iced tea.”
Dylan stood up. “I was going to get some – I’ll get yours too.”
“Here are the reporters,” Angel announced, pointing at a small throng of people who were being let into the fenced pool area. The private security team frisked each one and checked their names off on a list.
Dylan reappeared with the iced teas, and several of the reporters gasped or went speechless at the sight of him. Angel grinned. Who needed Fang when they had Dylan? The flock was a whole lot nicer to look at – and be a part of – with him around.
She motioned for the security people to let the reporters come closer. There were about ten of them, some carrying microphones, some with big video cameras on their shoulders.
“Hi!” she said, putting on a party face. “Thanks for coming! We can answer questions for ten minutes, and then there will be a photo op. Who’s first?”
“Where are your parents?” cried one reporter. “Do they have wings?”
“Our parents were a test tube and a turkey baster,” Angel said. “No wings.”
“Can you actually fly, or has that been a publicity stunt?” called another reporter.
In response, Gazzy shook out his wings, climbed onto the diving board, bounced a couple times, then launched himself into the air. There were gasps and murmurs of excitement as he moved up and down with each flap of his wings, eating an ice cream cone. Then he popped the last of the cone into his mouth, folded in his wings, and cannonballed into the pool. Several reporters got drenched.
“There’s your answer,” Angel said.
“How old are you? Are you all related?” A woman held a microphone toward Nudge.
“We’re… fifteen, twelve, nine, and seven,” Nudge said, still getting used to their new ages. “Gazzy and Angel are the only real brother and sister.”
“You weren’t all from the same egg, so to speak?” asked another reporter, causing laughter.
Nudge looked at him. “Do we look like we’re all from the same egg?” She pointed to Iggy, who was very pale skinned. She herself was at least partly African American. Gazzy and Angel both had cornsilk-yellow hair, ivory skin, and blue eyes.
“Where’s Maximum? And the tall dark boy? We’ve seen them in pictures,” someone said.
“They’re busy right now and couldn’t be here,” said Angel smoothly.
“Who’s the new member?” a woman asked Dylan.
“I’m a friend of the family,” Dylan responded casually. “Birds of a feather, you know.”
Everyone laughed, and flashes popped as he smiled. Then the cameras clicked some more. They couldn’t get enough of him.
“Do you have any other special talents?” a reporter yelled.
Angel looked right at him. “No.”
“But Angel – that’s not true,” Dylan said.
Angel glared at him. She should have gone over some flock rules with him. She should have thought of this. Now she had to fix it.
60
“DYLAN,” BEGAN ANGEL, sounding firm.
“Dylan?” Jeb asked, walking over to him with an urgent look.
“… ‘Cause I can sing,” finished Dylan, standing up.
“Oh, lordy, spare me the karaoke!” Total muttered, trotting over to sit in the shade beneath a patio table.
“You were in the rain, I saw you there,” Dylan sang. Angel recognized the words of a song that had been playing incessantly on the radio. “I want to kiss the rain, and your sorrow, from your hair…”
“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” Total murmured. “That kid can actually carry a tune.”
Angel sat back on her lounge chair and grinned. The reporters were eating this up, taking pictures, yelling questions. She was going to ask for more money.
Gazzy jumped up and stood behind Dylan, adding a beat box layer to the song. Iggy began drumming on a table with his hands. Nudge began singing backup and harmony, the way Angel had
