Fang turned back to me. “I’ll go look.”
I followed him, heading for the doorway we’d all come through. This was all I needed. We were trying to blend, to not stand out, and she went and got lost in the freaking White House. Where getting lost would no doubt cause somewhat of a hullabaloo. Should I ask her teacher? Alert a guard? Maybe she was just lost, or maybe she’d been kidnapped by Erasers. Again. So much for my feeling of security. Dang it.
There were three entrances to this room, a guard at each one. Where to start?
Then an excited ripple spread through the crowd, a soft murmur of voices. I was taller than a lot of the other kids and I quickly scanned the faces I could see. The crowd parted, and Angel came toward me, a little smile on her face. Celeste dangled from one hand, and I noticed incongruously that we had to send that bear through the wash but soon.
Then I saw who was holding Angel’s other hand.
The president. Or a stunning facsimile.
My jaw dropped as I stared at them. Several black-suited men with earphones scurried into the room, looking alarmed.
“Hi, Max,” said Angel. “I got lost. Mr. Danning brought me back.”
“Hi, uh, Ariel,” I said weakly, searching her face. I glanced up at the president. He looked so lifelike, much more so than he did on TV. “Uh, thanks. Sir.”
He gave me a warm smile. “No problem, miss. Your sister knew you’d be worried. You’ve got yourself a remarkable little girl here.”
Yeah? You mean the wings? Or was it the infiltrating-your-brain part? Oh, God, I had a bad feeling about this. I studied Angel, but as usual she looked wide-eyed and innocent. Not that that had ever meant anything.
“Yes, we certainly do,” I said. “Thank you for finding her. And bringing her back.”
Angel’s teacher fell all over herself, shaking the president’s hand and thanking him and apologizing all at the same time.
“My pleasure.” The president—the authentic president of the United States—leaned down and smiled at Angel. “You take care now,” he said. “Don’t go getting lost anymore.”
“I won’t,” Angel said. “Thanks for finding me.”
He patted her blond curls, making them bounce, then waved at the crowd before turning and heading out of the visitors’ center. The black-suited men hurried after him like ants on speed.
Every eye in the room was on us. I kneeled down to Angel’s level and spoke through a clenched smile. “I can’t believe this happened,” I said. “Are you okay?”
Angel nodded. “I was worried, ’cause I looked up and my whole class was gone. So I went down a hall, and then another hall, and then the president met me. But nothing weird happened. None of those guys turned into Erasers or anything.”
“Okaaay,” I said, my heart still beating fast. “Just stick close from now on. I don’t want to lose you again.”
“Okay, Max,” Angel said solemnly, taking my hand.
I also didn’t want her playing mind-puppet with the leader of the free world, but I was going to save that conversation till later.
61
“Zoom in.” Jeb leaned closer to the black-and-white monitor.
Ari wordlessly rewound the tape and zoomed in. Again he watched as the crowd in the visitors’ center rippled outward like a school of fish. Again the smiling countenance of the president appeared in the top left corner of the screen. Ari zoomed the focus in on the president and the blond kid by his side.
Jeb examined the screen intently, touching the glass as if he could touch the images themselves. Ari watched Jeb’s eyes focus on Angel, on Max, on the president. His gut tightened. What would it take to make Jeb look at him like that? He’d never cared about Ari when he was just a regular boy. Then Ari had been turned into a mutant freak, just like the bird kids. And still his own father had no time for him, no interest in him. What would it take? Not even dying had helped, which, face it, would have been most people’s trump card.
It was time. Past time. Time to take the freaks down. When they were completely gone, just footnotes in a science text, then Jeb would have to realize how important Ari was.
He watched as Max’s eyes widened on the screen. With those jackets on, you could hardly tell these kids were mutant freaks. Ari knew he himself was pretty identifiable. His retrofitted wings were too large to fold neatly up against his spine. His skin was rough from morphing in and out. And his features—Ari couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something odd about his features, maybe from having a seven-year-old face stretched to fit a man-sized Eraser.
Max smiled at the president nervously. Even on a tiny black-and-white screen, she was striking. Tall, lean, sandy-streaked hair. He knew that under her jacket her arms were whipcord tough, strong. He could still feel the bruise from her last kick on his ribs. He scowled.
And there was his father, watching the screen as if looking at a Thanksgiving dinner. As if they were his kids, instead of Ari. As if he was proud of them and wanted them back.
But he wasn’t going to get them back. Not ever. Ari was going to make sure of that. Plans had been made. Wheels set in motion. Jeb would be angry at first. But he would come around.