“It would be patriotic of you to help your country,” the blond woman said stiffly.
“And it would be nice if the Easter Bunny were real,” I answered. “But it’s interesting that you’ve gone from wanting to study us to wanting us to help our country. Next question.”
The woman flushed, and I saw several colleagues look at her as if she had messed up.
“Frankly, we consider you a national resource,” said a woman in uniform. “A national treasure, if you will.” She gave an unconvincing smile. “Like the Declaration of Independence.”
I sighed. “Which is kept in a sealed display case under lock and key, with armed guards. No, thanks. Anyone else?”
The cool-eyed general spoke again. “The fact remains that you are minors, and as such must be under adult supervision and guardianship, according to state law. We’re offering you such guardianship with a great many benefits and privileges. There could be many less-attractive options.” He sat back looking satisfied, as if he had just crushed an opponent at Battleship.
I blinked and looked around the room in disbelief. “You’re kidding,” I said. “We’ve escaped from top-security prisons, lived through mental and physical torture, lived on our own for years, made tons of smarty-pants grown-ups look like fools without even trying, eaten desert rats with no A1 steak sauce, and you’re telling me we’re minors and have to have guardians?” I shook my head, staring at him. “Listen, pal, I grew up in a freaking dog crate. I’ve seen horrible part-human mutations die gut-wrenching deaths. I’ve had people, mutants, and robots trying to kill me twenty-four/seven for as long as I can remember, and you think I’m gonna cave to state law? Are you bonkers?”
My voice had risen steadily and it filled the room. Everyone was stock-still, dead quiet.
Finally the man who had first greeted us cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, perhaps we should take a break and meet again tomorrow.” It was like someone looking at a horrible battlefield wound and saying, “Let’s put a Band-Aid on this thing, patch it right up!”
Once we were back in the limousine, my mom patted my hand and said brightly, “Gosh, that went well!” and I snorted.
Then we were all laughing, and I wished we could stay that way forever: all together and laughing. Of course, we couldn’t.
10
THAT NIGHT WE DECIDED to order in pizza like normal people.
Mom had a menu from a local place, and each of us kids got to order our own whole, large pizza. I would never get used to having enough to eat for more than a day or two at a time. It wouldn’t last, so I was going to enjoy it while I could.
“So, this whole government-control thing isn’t working for me,” I said while we waited for the delivery guy to show up.
My mom looked at me. “I’d feel better if you were being protected somehow,” she said. See? That’s what kind of mom she is. She doesn’t order me to do stuff, doesn’t try to pin me down. As long as I don’t leave my socks lying around, I’m golden.
“Their protection never lasts,” said Gazzy. “It turns into something else. Like a trap, or a nightmare, or an experiment. Did I remember to order extra pineapple?”
The rest of the flock nodded.
“I don’t want to go to school,” said Nudge, pulling her attention away from a TV show. “Unless it’s, like, fashion school or music school, like how to be a rock star. But math class every day? And spelling? Bleah.”
“I don’t think those people really know what they want,” said Angel thoughtfully.
“Did we remember to get garlic bread?” Total asked, and we all nodded again.
“But you’re not picking up out-and-out evil?” I asked Angel. Having a six-year-old mind reader does come in handy.
“No,” Angel said, stroking Total’s back. “I can feel secrets, and confusion. But no mad-scientist stuff.”
“Something new and different,” said Iggy.
“Anyone want refills on lemonade?” Jeb asked, holding out the carton.
“I do.” Gazzy handed him a cup, and Iggy said, “No, the blue one’s mine.”
Gazzy pushed him the blue cup, then looked up as we all realized that no one had mentioned cup colors. Iggy picked up his cup and drank, not seeming to notice anything odd.
“Which blue cup, Ig?” I asked casually. “Light or dark?”
“Light,” he said.
We were all silent, and then Iggy frowned. “Huh. Did you guys tell me what colors the cups were?”