Ari turned and saw a salesman wearing a red vest.
“Can I help you, sir? These babies are really hot. Can’t keep ’em on the shelves. Would you care to see one?”
“Yeah.”
The salesman blinked at the sound of Ari’s gravelly, morph-roughed voice. But he regained his composure and managed a smile. “Certainly.” He pulled a set of jingling keys from his pocket. “Now, what color would you like, sir? They all have their merits.”
“The red one.” The one that had tried to break out of the TV.
“I like this one too.” The salesman unclipped the red Game Boy from its cable and handed it to Ari. “You’ll see it has all the advanced features, including—hey, wait a minute, sir.”
Ari was already walking down the aisle toward the exit.
“Sir—wait! You can’t take that out of this department! If you want one, I have to ring it up for you!”
His voice sounded like a gnat buzzing around Ari’s head. Ari opened the Game Boy and pressed the on button. The screen flickered to bright, colorful life. He smiled.
The salesman caught up with him and grabbed his arm. Ari shrugged him off easily. He thumbed through the menu and chose a game. Another man, larger, stood in front of him, arms crossed.
“You’re not going no—,” he began, but Ari snapped out his fist and punched him without even looking. The man’s breath left him in a whoosh and he doubled over.
Ari walked right through the exit doors. Alarms sounded. A tinny voice said, “You have triggered our security system. . . .” That was all Ari heard because he was out in the parking lot. His thumbs started working the controls. This was a good day. A favorite song popped into his head, and he started rapping under his breath about “a kid who refused to respect adults.”
Ari had his Game Boy. It was incredibly awesome. And he’d gotten it for himself. He didn’t need anyone to give him stuff.
He became vaguely aware of a ruckus behind him. Turning, he saw an unarmed rent-a-cop holding a billy club, and four store employees, vests almost as red as their faces. Ari sighed. They always had to make things difficult. Well, he could simple things up real fast.
Whirling, he went for a full-out morph. As always, it was kind of uncomfortable, like getting pulled in all directions till his joints popped. His jaw elongated, his eyes yellowed, long, sharp canines pushed down through his gums. He raised his hair
y, claw-tipped paws high, one of them incongruously holding a red Game Boy.
“Arrgh!” He’d practiced this in the mirror, the raised claws, snarling muzzle, angry expression, the roar. It all came together in a terrifying, grotesque picture, and now it had the intended effect: Everyone stopped dead. They gasped in fright.
Ari grinned, knowing how horrible he looked when he gave a morphy grin. He looked like a nightmare, like anyone’s worst nightmare.
“Arrgh!” he roared again, raising his claws higher.
That did it. The employees scattered, and the rent-a-cop put a hand over his chest and turned pale.
Ari laughed and loped out of the parking lot, waiting until he was out of sight to unfurl his heavy, awkward wings and take off.
He loved his Game Boy.
100
That night we crashed in General Coffee State Park, not far from Douglas, Georgia. Fang and I scouted around for a few minutes and found a scooped-out indentation in the face of some limestone rock.
“Not as good as a cave, but decent,” Fang said.
I looked at it and nodded. “This will keep us out of the wind, and it probably won’t rain. Looks pretty clear.” I turned to get the others, but Fang put his hand on my arm.
“You okay?” he asked. “What happened back there at Anne’s?”
Just like that, it all came rushing back—my day. Being trapped in a school full of—enemies, teachers, Pruitt. Thinking Sam was an Eraser. Leaving Anne’s house, knowing she was responsible for a lot of our situation.
Suddenly I was exhausted. “It was pretty much business as usual.” Which was the sad truth.
“What’s in Florida?” Fang asked. “Why does Angel want to go there?”