25
MAX. FLY TO THESE COORDINATES. I rubbed my eyes, hoping it had been a dream. Then a topographic map flashed into my brain, even as the Voice gave the directions. I groaned inwardly, hoping the Voice could hear it. So much for our bit of downtime. As I watched the flock slowly wake up, the Voice continued to give me instructions.
Then it said something amazing. Your mom is waiting for you.
“Okay, everyone up!” I said, clapping my hands. “Up and at ’em! It’s a whole new day!”
“I’m hungry,” said Nudge, yawning. “You know what would be good? Like, one of those sausage McHeart-Attack things. The biscuit things. I want about eight of ’em.” She stood up and balanced on her branch, brushing off jeans that had long since reached the “grimy” crisis point.
“We’ll eat on the way,” I said. “The Voice says we have to go someplace, meet my mom.”
“Could it be a trap?” Angel looked worried.
“It can always be a trap, sweetie,” I said, and jumped out into the air.
Trap, schmap. The glory of flying was still the glory of flying. This morning was crisp, cold, and drenched with sunlight. We flew above the clouds for almost an hour, making one fueling stop at a fast-food place. (If I were a bazillionaire, I’d start a chain of healthy fast-food restaurants, except stuff on the menu would actually taste good and people would want to eat it. Smoothies, little dumplings. I could go on.)
But this morning was so beautiful that we couldn’t worry about whether we were flying toward a trap or whether our clothes needed washing. This morning it was us plus air, and we soared and floated and played in updrafts, and it was as though all the jagged puzzle pieces of our weird lives had come together perfectly, here and now.
You’re off course. Correct by three degrees, south-southwest.
I shifted my left wing slightly and adjusted our course, and the others followed me. An hour later, we were at our coordinates. Which corresponded to a private landing strip carved into the middle of a thick woods, not far from Pittsburgh. A small, gleaming white jet sat on the lone runway. Two men in orange jumpsuits were moving traffic cones, yellow flags tucked under their arms. It all seemed oh so familiar, if you know what I’m saying. I mean, how many secret landing strips are tucked into hiding places all across America? Why isn’t someone keeping track of this stuff?
I paused in midair, my eyes narrowing. Then I saw my mom come out of the plane, looking up at the sky, shading her eyes.
“Doesn’t look very trappy,” said Nudge.
“No — but be on guard, just in case,” Fang said.
I nodded and angled my wings back along my body, losing altitude fast. I didn’t know what was waiting for us, but I was ready to find out.
26
“MAX!”
I hoped I would never take my mom’s hugs for granted.
“What’s going on?” I asked her. “I thought I wouldn’t see you for a while.”
“Me too,” she said. “But Jeb and I have come up with an unusual possibility for you guys, and we wanted to see if you were interested.”
“Unusual how?” asked Fang.
“Well, sort of a science trip,” said my mom. “A science trip where you would work with scientists in a pretty remote place. We think it would be kind of fun for you guys, plus you would be useful to the scientists, plus this place is so remote that we think you’d be safer than usual while you’re there.”
“Huh.” This was an interesting idea. I’d been wondering what our next step would be, and here it was, being offered to me. My mom was actually recommending it to me, and unless she’d recently been replaced by an evil clone (possible but unlikely), that meant it was probably a good idea.
“Where’s this remote place?” Fang asked.
Mom grinned. “I’d like to keep that a secret until you’re almost there. To help you keep an open mind. And now I’d like you to meet one of the scientists.” She turned to gesture to a woman waiting by the plane’s entrance ramp.
The woman was a couple inches shorter than me, with blond hair in a single braid down her back. Though her face was unsmiling, her eyes roamed over us hungrily: the bird kids, the mutant freaks, something she’d never seen before. She blinked when Iggy put Total down on the ground, and I got the feeling she really hadn’t known what to expect from us.
But then, most people don’t.
“I’m Dr. Brigid Dwyer,” she said, stepping forward and holding out her hand. She seemed awfully young to be a doctor.
“I’m Max.” I shook her hand, and I swear, she looked at mine like it was cotton candy. Then she realized it was just a hand, and the excitement faded a little from her eyes. “What’s this science field trip about?”