Then he sighed heavily. “No. He’s too dangerous now. If he remains alive, his life will become a living hell.”
“But why?” Angel demanded.
“Hans will see to it. Remember back in Dr. Gunther-Hagen’s lab, when Fang almost died?”
She nodded. It was one of her worst memories, even worse than the ones from when she was really little, in the School.
“As a result of those tests, Hans has recently discovered something truly extraordinary about Fang’s DNA.”
“What kind of discovery?” Angel asked bleakly. Jeb had no answers, no explanations—only more vague justifications. She felt empty.
“Something amazing,” Jeb replied with such bright enthusiasm that Angel wanted to hit him. They were talking about the reason for Fang’s death. “Something that would change the world.”
Suddenly, the soft padding sound of footsteps reached Angel’s ears. Someone was coming toward them.
“Yes, Angel, something that would change the world,” a cool female voice said. “And now we need to find out if you, sweetie, have the same… defect.”
Angel felt like she was going to throw up.
She knew that voice.
Dr. Martinez, Max’s mom, was at the School.
29
“REMEMBER, FIRST IMPRESSIONS are key,” Total told me sagely.
I stared. “Total, there is no first impression. I’ve been living with the guy for like three months, for Pete’s sake.”
He flapped his little black wings and sniffed. “Well, excuse me for trying to help with your—might I remind you—first-ever date with Dylan.”
Rolling my eyes, I attempted to get a brush through my ratty hair for the umpteenth time. “It’s not even a date.” I sighed. “Dylan and I are chaperoning Nudge and Sloan.”
“I bet Nudge would accept my advice graciously.”
“Perfect! So go talk to Nudge, then!”
Total whined. “But unlike you, she already knows the ins and outs of being a normal teenager. You’re the dysfunctional one here.”
I scowled. “Fine. Give me advice.”
“Ask nicely.”
“Total.”
“Sheesh, no need to get all snippy,” he said, pouting as effectively as a Scottish terrier can pout. “Just remember: No one likes a self-absorbed person. Always direct the conversation back to your date.”
“I already know everything about my… about Dylan,” I said. I sighed again and wound my hair into a lopsided bun, then tried to jam in a couple of the chopstick-y things that Nudge uses for her hair. Welcome to the glamorous life of Maximum Ride, ladies and gentlemen.
“Also, personal hygiene is a must,” Total continued.
We both looked at my messy hair, my stained jeans, my beat-up sneakers.
“I’ll get Nudge to choose an outfit for you,” he muttered.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying not to panic. Do I need to repeat how awful I am at this—this normal girl stuff? No. I don’t believe I do.
But Sloan was a fifteen-year-old boy. I don’t care how nice the guy might be, that’s a walking hormonal disaster waiting to happen, in my book. There was no way I was just going to sit there and let him whisk Nudge away by herself, so to keep it from being horribly awkward, Dylan and I were double-whatevering with them.
Kill me now.
“So what movie are you crazy kids seeing, anyway?” Total asked fondly.
“Blood City III: The Massacre.” I’d read the summary of it online, and frankly, it sounded like the directors had just decided to film my life.
“Perfect!” Total crowed, wagging his tail. “A horror movie! You can cling to Dylan during all the scary parts.”
Flabbergasted, I gaped at him. “First of all, sexist pig much?” I said. “I don’t buy into the whole damsel-in-distress thing, especially when I’ve saved Dylan’s feathery butt more times than he can count. Second of all, no. Just… no.”
Total ignored me and hopped up onto the counter and opened the medicine cabinet with his nose, taking out a little white box and pushing it toward me.
“What’s that?” I asked warily.
Total winked. “Breath mints.”
30
“NOOOO!” ON THE screen, a woman’s eyes bugged almost out of her head, and I tried not to scream.
Tried not to scream in exasperation, I mean. The serial killer was right in front of her, wide open! Clearly, instead of weeping like a moron, she should be lunging forward and administering a swift uppercut to his chin. Then this entire pointless ordeal would be over with, and I could go home.
Okay. I’ll stop whining. It wasn’t that bad, sitting there in the movie theater next to Dylan. We were in the row directly behind Nudge and Sloan—partly so we wouldn’t get separated, partly so I could knock Sloan unconscious if he tried anything—and, to be completely honest, I was feeling pretty relaxed.
In a completely nervous, freaked-out way, of course.
Because as soon as the words AND NOW… YOUR FEATURE PRESENTATION had flickered across the screen, Dylan had tentatively reached out and taken my hand.
And I hadn’t stopped him.
So that was the situation: dark theater, warm hands, terrible blood-drenched movie, and so much tension between me and Dylan that it felt like my brain was about to short-circuit.
Basically, I wasn’t sure whether to just go with it and have fun (like a human) or panic and get the heck out of this pitch-black enclosed space (like a bird kid). So far, the human way was winning, but the jury was still out.
To absolutely no one’s surprise, the stupid bug-eyed lady got stabbed, and wailed dramatically. I turned to the side and made a face at Dylan.
“Well, you can’t blame her,” he whispered, and his eyes flashed like blue coins in the dim half-light. “She hasn’t exactly been trained for fights to the death.”
“Oh, come on! She still totally just sat there and let herself get stabbed,” I protested. “In my humble opinion, she deserved it.”
He snickered quietly. “You may be the only person who’s rooting for the serial killer.”
We smiled at each other, and that was when my usual harshness came slamming back into me with a jolt, making me bite my lip and focus on the movie again. No time for blushing and admiring; make sure Nudge is doing okay! Check for escape routes!
Sometimes my survival skills really get in the way of things.
I stayed completely still through the rest of the movie, even when Dylan’s thumb began tracing fiery circles on my palm, even when my heart started pounding so loudly I thought people six rows away could probably hear it. Get it together, I told myself. Be calm. Be Zen. You are Buddha.
Except I highly doubt that Buddha would be experiencing the same tingles down his spine that I was. And because of Dylan! Someone, anyone, just put me in a straitjacket and be done with it.
Finally, the screen went black and the end credits started rolling. I shot to my feet, dropping Dylan’s hand like a hot potato. “Okay, well, that was fun! Let’s head home now!”
“No way,” Nudge said, frowning. “It’s only nine o’clock.”
“Yeah,” said Sloan. He nudged Nudge—no pun intended—and gave her a little smirk. “Let’s you and me go back to my place.”
I choked, not sure whether to be horrified or revolted or amused. For one thing, if this guy thought there was even a slim chance that I’d let him get his hands all over my Nudge, he was sorely mistaken. For another thing, gross. For a third thing, what “place”? Didn’t this kid have parents? I mean, true, we didn’t, but we weren’t exactly the norm.