“Oh, my God!” Nudge squealed, removing the cover on a tray. “Oh, my God!”
“What? What?” I hurried over, hoping for chocolate.
Instead I was confronted with a large bowl of . . . well, birdseed.
“It’s just seeds!” Nudge said. “Not even like a granola bar. It’s birdseed!”
For a couple seconds we all just stared at one another, and then we cracked up, really howling with laughter.
“Oh, God, no!” I said, holding my bruised ribs. “Don’t make me laugh!”
“Nummy!” Gazzy said, poking the seeds with his finger. “Could I get some worms with this?”
“Stop! Stop!” I begged.
Even Fang, who as you know is Mr. Personality, was actually laughing out loud, bent over, his hands on his knees.
“What? Seeds?” Iggy asked, feeling the contents of the bowl. “Is this really birdseed? ’Cause we’re birds?”
I nodded, tears running down my cheeks. I gasped for air, saying “Ouch” with each breath. “I’m nodding, Ig.”
“This is too much,” Fang wheezed. “Too much! Birdseed! Oh, God.”
“What’s for dessert? Caterpillars?” I said, barely intelligibly. This set off a new round of shrieking laughter.
“This sandwich isn’t half bad,” Total said, his paws up on the table.
“Did they bring us a bunch of nesting material?” Gazzy asked. “’Cause I’m beat.”
More laughter. Angel almost fell onto her hurt arm.
The door opened, and we tried to whip ourselves into fighting form but failed miserably. This was one way they’d never tried to subdue us — with laughter. Akila immediately got to her feet, ears back, head lowered. She looked pretty scary, but all I could do was try to swallow my giggles.
Gozen stood in the doorway, watching us with his glowing blue eyes. “You will not find the rest of the day amusing,” he said. “Follow me. The auction is about to begin. As is the hurricane.”
Fang and I looked at each other with “huh?” faces. What hurricane?
“Question,” I said, raising a finger. “What auction are we talking about? And did you just say hurricane?”
Gozen had turned toward the door, and now he turned back. “The Uber-Director is auctioning you off to the highest bidder. He expects you to bring a great deal of money.”
“I’m flattered,” I said. “What are we being sold for?”
“Whatever they want.”
Okay, that wouldn’t end well.
“And the hurricane?” I asked. Wasn’t the end of hurricane season, like, November? How could there be a hurricane now?
“There is a Category four hurricane about to make a direct hit on Miami,” Gozen intoned. I wondered if worry had been programmed into him, and decided probably not. It would just get in the way.
“Uh-huh,” I said. “Does anyone seem, um, concerned about that? Category four is one of the big ones, right?”
“The city has been evacuated,” Gozen told us.
“But not us?”
“No.” He opened the door and gestured to it.