School's Out - Forever

  “I’m such a marshmallow,” he sobbed, tears making wet spots on his fur.

  It took a lot to make any one of us cry. Losing Iggy was plenty. So with all the tears and heartache and sleeplessness, and then Anne riding me, trying to find out where Iggy was, by Monday morning I was pretty much ready to snap.

  I mean, I was happy for him. Way happy. But more than sad for the rest of us. And knowing that this could happen again, to any of us, made me feel like the Titanic, plowing right toward an iceberg.

  “I’m going to report Jeff missing at school,” Anne told us as we filed out to the car.

  “Okay,” I said wearily, knowing it wouldn’t help. We all piled into her Suburban and she headed to school, back as rigid as a steel pipe.

  “I’m going to call the police,” she said, looking at me in the mirror.

  “Whatever,” I said, ready to explode. “Why don’t you put his face on a milk carton? He’s just another one of those missing kids, isn’t he? This place is full of them.”

  Anne’s face in the mirror looked taken aback, almost—was it afraid? Interestingly, after that she dropped it.

  Which meant what?

  84

  “Right! You all have your orders,” Ari barked. He rolled his shoulders under his black leather coat. Another Eraser was driving, and twelve more crouched in the back of the van. “We go in, we grab the mutants, we clear out. Like surgery, right?”

  “Right,” several Erasers muttered.

  Take the mutants alive, his Voice reminded him.

  “Remember—take the mutants alive,” Ari said. He grinned, looking forward to what was about to happen. “And no one touches Max! She’s mine.” He waited for the Voice to jump in with more advice, but it was silent.

  He rubbed his hands together, already itching to feel his fists connect with Max’s face. Sure, Dad had said to bring Max back alive—there was more he wanted to learn about her. But the only thing Ari wanted to learn was what size coffin she’d need. He knew how he’d play it: Despite his orders, another Eraser had “gone crazy,” killing everything in sight. Before Ari could stop him, he’d ripped out Max’s throat. Then Jeb would kill that Eraser, Max would be dead, and Ari would be sitting pretty.

  There were no downsides.

  On the other hand . . . what if Max “disappeared”? What if Ari took Max and stashed her somewhere where no one could find her and she couldn’t escape? He thought he knew a place. If Max was trapped, if she had no hope of escaping, and if Ari was the only one keeping her alive with food and water—then she’d get used to him, right? She’d be grateful to him, even. It would be just the two of them, with no one telling them what to do. They would become friends. Max would like him. They could play cards. She could read to him. They could play outside.

  This was sounding more and more like the best idea he’d had all year. And he knew a good place to take her. Someplace she couldn’t escape from. That is, once he’d cut her wings off.

  85

  “I have one more announcement,” said Mr. Pruitt, staring balefully at the entire student body. It was Monday-morning assembly, and we were all trapped in the school auditorium, listening to the headhunter spew bile at us. At least it was equal-opportunity bile—not aimed at just the flock. So far he’d vented his feelings about how messy we left the lunchroom, how we thieving little punks had stolen school supplies, and how he doubted our ability to use the restrooms like normal human beings.

  The man definitely had issues.

  “One of our students has gone missing,” Mr. Pruitt said, seeming to stare right at me.

  I put on an innocent “Who, moi?” expression.

  “Jeff Walker,” the headhunter went on. “From ninth grade. Though he was a new student, I’m sure you all know whom I’m talking about. We’re calling in a special detective unit,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. I kept my face carefully blank. “But if any of you have seen him, or know anything, or have any information whatsoever, come forward now. If we later find out that you did know something and did not come forward, it will be very bad for you. Am I making myself clear?”

  Lots of confused nods.

  Many kids turned to look at me, Fang, and the rest of the flock because we were Iggy’s “siblings.” I realized I should look upset and worried, and tried to change gears.

  “Dismissed,” spit the headhunter, making it sound like a terminal sentence.

  I leaped up, anxious to get out of the crowded auditorium. In the hallway, my friend J.J. caught up to me.

  “I’m so sorry, Max,” she said, looking concerned. “What happened?”

  Amazingly I had no story prepared. In my twisted freak-show world, people appearing out of nowhere and disappearing into nothingness was kind of everyday fare. Somehow, the idea that Iggy’s absence would actually upset and concern people other than Anne had never occurred to me.

  Okay, I’d dropped this ball. I admit it.

  “Uh . . . ,” I said, stalling. I didn’t have time to think through all the possible stories to see if they had loopholes or bear traps further down the line. Several other kids crowded around us.

  “I can’t talk about it,” I said. And just like that, thinking about Iggy’s really being gone made actual, unfake tears come to my eyes. I let ’em rip. “I mean . . . I . . . just can’t talk about it right now.” I added a tiny sniffle and was rewarded with concerned understanding.

  “Okay, everyone,” J.J. said, waving her arms. “She can’t talk about it. Let’s back off, give her some space.”

  “Thanks,” I told her. “I still can’t believe he’s really gone.” Completely true.

  “I’m so sorry,” said J.J. “If only they had taken my brother instead.”

  She actually made me smile, just like a real friend.

  “I’ll see you later,” she said, heading toward her locker. “Let me know if I can help—if you need anything.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  The other kids were still looking at me, and paranoia made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Sitting in the auditorium, kids following me to ask me questions—I was way too twitchy to deal with any of it.

  I turned and strode off in the other direction. But in the next hall, more kids looked up and, after glancing at one another, started toward me. Then the headhunter turned the corner. He hadn’t seen me yet and was barking at other students. It was only moments before I would come under his fire. This was feeling bad.

  I reversed direction quickly and headed down a third hall, and then I saw a door marked Teachers’ Lounge. I’d never been in there. I pushed the door open and ducked in, already preparing my story about being lost.

  Still facing the closed door, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Then I turned around, ready to start sucking up to any teacher who might be in here.

  There were quite a few teachers here, I observed with surprise. Including a bunch I’d never seen before. One was standing at the front of the room, as if telling a story, and others were grouped at tables. I quickly glanced at their faces, looking for someone I knew. Oh, good, Mr. Lazzara.

  But—my heart took a beat and froze.

  These were teachers, in the teachers’ lounge.

  Why were three of them pulling out Tasers?

  86

  Because they were whitecoat plants, ready to capture a mutant bird kid? I’m just guessing here.

  In a split second I opened that door and whirled to run—

  —right into the headhunter.

  His ugly face split in an unholy grin, and he grabbed both my arms with an iron grip. “Leaving so soon? Surely you’re not tired of our hospitality,” he snarled. He shoved me back into the teachers’ lounge as I wrenched my arms free.

  “Why, what’s happening?” Mr. Lazzara asked in surprise.

  “Keep away!” one of the other teachers barked at him.

  I backed up and looked at the headhunter, disappointed but not surprised to see him pulling a plastic cor
d out of his pocket, no doubt intended for my wrists.

  “I always knew there was a reason I hated you,” I said tightly. “Besides just your personality, I mean.” Then I leaped into the air, aiming a kick at his head. I caught him off guard and whipped his head sideways, but he sprang up and came for me. I jumped onto a table, grabbed the light fixture hanging from the ceiling, and swung fast, hard kicks at everyone coming toward me.

  Guess what, Voice? I thought. This time I’m believing what I’m seeing.

  The headhunter grabbed for me again. “Oh, no you don’t, you wretched little blister,” he spit at me. “You’re my prize, my reward for suffering through day after day of ignorant, pestilent little swine.”

  “I miss the gold-watch tradition, myself,” I said, then I spun out of the way, kicking him hard as he lunged for me across the table. He fell and slid sideways, knocking down some other teachers, including the ones with Tasers. Note to self: Crack up later.

  Some teachers were huddled against a back wall, looking terrified. Michael Lazzara looked as though he was about to throw himself into the action on the good-guy side. But the bad-guy teachers were closing in on me from all angles, pointing their Tasers at me. I didn’t know who they were or who they worked for, but a good general rule of thumb is to avoid people with electric stun guns.

  With a huge jump, I cleared several teachers and crashed through the door into the hallway. I wasn’t sure exactly which classrooms the flock would be in at this time, so I just streaked down the hall, shouting at the top of my lungs.

  “Bandada! Bezheet! See-chass! Move, move, move!”

  87

  I ran as fast as I could down both classroom halls, yelling, and saw Nudge and then Fang burst out of their rooms. I felt both frantic and incredibly pissed: Here was the proof I’d needed all along to convince the others to leave before now.

  Other kids were streaming into the hallway, wondering what all the commotion was. Angel! Thank God, there she was, racing out of her classroom in front of me. She looked back, nodded, and poured on the speed toward the exit.

  “Max! In here!” I saw Sam twenty feet ahead, standing in the doorway of an empty classroom. He motioned urgently with his hand. “Come on! Through here!”

  But was he starting to look kind of Erasery around the edges—teeth a tiny bit too long, hair a shade thicker? I couldn’t tell and couldn’t take a chance.

  “You can trust me!” he said, as I saw the Gasman rush out of his room, almost running into Nudge.

  Sam stepped forward as if to intercept me, but I made one of my famous split-second decisions. I plowed right through him, knocking him to the ground.

  “The thing is,” I said, “I can’t trust anybody!”

  “Max!” Fang shouted, standing at the exit doors. The four of us raced toward him, and together we burst through to the parking lot. Behind us, the whole school was in chaos—kids filling the halls, people screaming, yelling, running around.

  Looks like school’s out, I thought.

  “Up and away!” I shouted, hearing a car’s engine race. The rest of the flock took to the air just as I realized the headhunter’s fancy car was screeching toward me at full speed. He was going to run me down—if he could.

  I ran straight at the car and, right before it crashed into me, I jumped into the air. As my wings gathered wind beneath them, I kicked hard, shattering the headhunter’s windshield. Then I was ten, fifteen, twenty feet in the air, looking down.

  Within seconds the headhunter had lost control of his car, and it squealed, sliding sideways right into several parked cars.

  “Cool!” said the Gasman.

  Pruitt spilled out of his wrecked car, his face almost purple with insane rage. “This isn’t the end of this!” he screamed, shaking his fist up at me in time-honored custom. “You’re accidents, stains, mistakes! And we’ll get you!”

  “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that,” I said, shaking my head.

  As we rose higher, teachers poured out of the school, pushing aside screaming kids, who cowered and tried to hide. Some of the teachers were clearly working for Pruitt, while others looked terrified and confused.

  Then I saw an all-too-familiar gray van careen into the parking lot, spitting gravel as it leaned dangerously around a corner. Sure, let’s add some Erasers to the mix! The more the merrier! Were they in league with Pruitt or had things just gotten interesting?

  “Go!” I said to the flock, and surged upward as fast as I could. Ari and some of the other Erasers could fly, but we had a head start. I saw Ari jump out of the van, barking orders, swearing, watching us escape.

  “Later much,” I said, and we soared into the sky, right into the weak autumn sun.

  88

  “Where to now?” the Gasman asked. We hovered in midair, our wings beating rhythmically, just hard enough to keep us in place. We’d kept a steady lookout, but so far no one seemed to be after us.

  “We need to go back to Anne’s,” said Angel.

  “Yeah, just real quick, to get some stuff,” Nudge agreed.

  “Actually,” I said, “I hid our packs in the bat cave a few days ago. Just in case something like this happened. And I didn’t forget to lift one of these,” I added, wagging one of Anne’s countless credit cards in front of them. “She’ll never miss it.”

  “Great,” said the Gasman in relief. “That was really smart, Max.”

  “That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” I said. It was taking everything I had to not yell I told you so! But now wasn’t the time. Later, when we were safe, then I would rub it in.

  “We still have to go back to Anne’s,” Angel said urgently.

  “Ange, we just can’t take the risk of saying good-bye,” I said.

  “No,” Angel said. “Total’s there.”

  Oh, crap. I took two seconds to judge the likelihood of Angel leaving Total behind, which was none, and then Fang and I looked at each other and sighed.

  “We’ll try,” I said, and saw relief flood her face.

  “Oh, thanks, Max,” she said. “We’ll make it fast, I promise.”

  It took three minutes to fly to Anne’s big, comfortable farmhouse, where we’d lived for almost two months. Where at least some of us had felt relatively happy and safe.

  Where at least thirty Erasers were swarming over the land, the orchards, out of the barn, all around the house.

  Jeezum, that was fast.

  Meanwhile, Angel was peering down at the yard, looking through the trees in the orchard.

  Please don’t let Total be snoozing in front of the fire, I prayed silently. Let him be paying attention.

  “There!” said Angel, pointing over to the pond. Sure enough, Total’s small black body was racing excitedly around the edge of the water. An Eraser was chasing him, but Total was amazingly fast on his short legs.

  Angel tucked her wings in and dived.

  “Fang!” I said, and Fang immediately went after her.

  The sound of an engine made me turn, and I saw Ari’s van tearing up the long driveway.

  Over by the pond, Angel was rocketing down. Erasers nearby were shouting for backup and starting to run toward her. Fang was right on her tail, ready to attack if necessary.

  “Total!” Angel shouted. “Come!”

  Instantly Total raced toward her, and when he’d gotten up speed, he bunched his small muscles and leaped into the air with all his might. I saw him sail upward as if he’d been shot out of a cannon, higher than any dog had ever leaped. Fifteen, twenty, almost thirty feet into the air, the height of a three-story building. Angel swooped down, scooped him into her arms, then surged upward, her beautiful, pure white wings working with hard, smooth precision.

  The Erasers roared below. Fang took Total from Angel, making a “yuck” face as Total licked him happily. They rejoined me, Nudge, and the Gasman.

  “About time you got here,” Total said, wiggling against Fang. “I thought I was going to have to bite some ankles!”

/>   89

  “Okay, guys—it’s time to get the flock outta here.” I’d been wanting to say that for ages.

  “Wait—,” said Nudge, watching Anne’s yard.

  “No, we have to go,” I said more strongly. “Ari and the rest will be after us any second. Let’s get a head start.” For once.

  “There’s Anne,” said Nudge, pointing.

  Sure enough, she was on the front lawn, striding toward an Eraser. Not something most humans would do. She shouted at Ari, waving her arms angrily, not afraid of him.

  A nondescript black sedan pulled to a stop by the house. A black sedan. What a cliché, I thought acidly.

  The door opened and Jeb Batchelder stepped out. Wonderful. His arrival added the perfect touch of anguish that had been missing from this picture.

  Jeb walked up to Ari, who was now yelling back at Anne.

  Anne, get out of there, I thought, unable to look away. True, I didn’t think she was totally on the up-and-up, but she didn’t deserve to get her throat ripped out. She was holding her own, though, even poking a finger into Ari’s chest. With a loud snarl, he grabbed her hand and twisted, making her cry out. Jeb smashed Ari’s hand away. Anne stepped aside, rubbing her wrist, looking furious.

  Jeb pushed Ari, forcing him to back up. Ari looked crazed with fury, his jaws snapping, beady red eyes burning. He kept pointing at us, high up in the air, and seemed to be arguing with Jeb. I was torn—I wanted to race out of there, put as much distance between us and the Erasers as possible. But, as usual, seeing Jeb created all sorts of mixed emotions. Rage being the primary one.

  Jeb, Anne, the Erasers, Pruitt, the other teachers. They were all parts of a bigger picture, but right now the picture looked as if it had been painted by drunken monkeys—nothing added up.

  “Look, we just have to go,” I began, when a voice behind us said, “Yo.”

  In case you’re wondering, it is in fact possible to jump a foot in the air when you’re already hovering in the air. Gasping, heart pounding, I whipped around and gaped.