James Patterson - Two Schools Out - Forever

"I'm way hot," he muttered. "But I don't feel sick. Just-way hot."

"Like I did?" I raised my eyebrows. "Huh. Give it a week; you'll be flying like the Concorde. I think. Or, you know, you're dying." I shot him a grin, which he didn't return. "What? You feel really bad?"

"No. But I just thought of something. I have your blood in me."

I looked at him, his wide, dark wings moving smoothly, powerfully through the night air.

"So? It was just blood."

He shook his head. "Not our blood. The red cells have DNA, remember? I got transfused with your DNA."

I thought. "Uh, so?"

He shrugged. "So maybe that's why this is happening. Maybe it wasn't supposed to happen to me."

"Hmm," I said. "And we don't know if that's bad or good or nothing."

"Guess we'll find out," he said.

Turns out there are practically hundreds of freaking tall church steeples in the DC area. Though finding the right one tonight seemed amusingly unlikely, we cruised around, looking for a steeple in a residential neighborhood. We dropped down more than a dozen times, but once I had scanned all the close-by houses, we took to the air again.

After three hours of this, we were hungry and tired. We didn't even have to speak-just looked at each other, shrugged, and turned in unison to head back to Anne's place.

It was around 3:00 a.m. when we got back to Anne's. We headed toward the window we'd left open, in a little-used storeroom on the second floor.

"Fang." He looked at me, and I gestured at the house with one hand.

We could see Anne's silhouette clearly in the window of her room. She was awake and looking for us at 3:00 a.m. Didn't that woman ever sleep?

Was Anne just a spy? For the FBI or someone else?

Suddenly I felt exhausted. We coasted down to the house, tucked our wings in at the last second, and zipped through the window. We stacked hands and tapped them, then went to our separate rooms. I kicked off my shoes and fell into bed in my clothes. I didn't expect Anne to come to my room.

She'd already seen everything she needed to see.

The next couple of weeks were the most surreal ones of my life, and that's saying something, since it beats growing up in a cage, being on the run, finding other mutants in a lab deep below the subways of New York City, and, oh yeah, having wings.

This was way weirder than that.

Nothing awful happened.

We went back to school, and it was business as usual, except that Gazzy and Iggy somehow managed to get through their days without detonating anything. A first.

The headhunter stayed out of our way, perhaps for health reasons, trying to avoid an apoplectic fit.

Angel's teacher seemed to behave pretty normally-like, she didn't suddenly take her class to a toy store and buy them anything they wanted. That would have been a tip-off for me.

Nudge got invited to a birthday party. A nonmutant birthday party. Anne promised to help her find an outfit that would hide her wings but still look normal.

And-brace yourself. I saved the best and the worst for last:

That guy Sam asked me on a date.

"You what?" Iggy burst out.

"I got asked on a date," I repeated, flinging mashed potatoes onto my plate.

"Oh, Max!" Nudge said.

"You're kidding," said the Gasman with his mouth full. He laughed, trying not to spit food. "What a loser! What'd he say when you shot him down?"

I busily cut my steak.

"You said yes, didn't you?" Nudge asked.

"Oh, my God," said Iggy, his hand on his forehead. "Max on a date. I thought we were trying to avoid tears and violence and mayhem."

Yet another frustrating instance of dagger glances not working on Iggy.

"I think it's great," said Angel. "Max is beautiful. She should go on dates."

"What are you going to wear?" Anne asked with a smile.

"Don't know," I muttered, my face getting hot.

And did you notice who didn't say one word?

Right.

"Just think of it as a recon mission."

Fang leaned against my door frame, watching me stare at myself in the dresser mirror.

"What?" I asked testily. "I'm fine." I tucked my shirt in and pulled on the oversize velour hoodie that would hide my wings. I hoped.

"Uh-huh. Usually when you look like that, I know you're about to hurl."

"I'm fine," I said tightly, trying not to hyperventilate. What was I doing? How stupid was I to agree to this? Maybe I should call him and cancel. I could say I was sick. I could-

The doorbell rang. Fang gave me an unholy grin and headed downstairs.

"Gosh, five brothers and sisters," Sam said.

"Yeah. What about you?" We were waiting in line to buy movie tickets.

"Three older sisters," he said. "They make my life a living hell. Fortunately, the two oldest are off at college now."

I smiled. Talking to Sam was easier than I'd expected. And for the next two hours, I wouldn't have to talk at all.

The film we saw was an incredibly violent military-espionage-action thing that looked like home movies from my childhood. Mostly I sat in the dark, analyzing fight scenes and praying that Sam wouldn't try to hold my hand. What if my palms were sweaty? I nervously rubbed them on my jeans.

When the movie was over, we decided to get ice cream at a little shop down the block. As I was trying to think of something to say, Sam reached over and took one of my hands.

Just like that, we were holding hands.

It wasn't bad.

At Ye Olde Ice Cream Shoppe, we got our orders and sat down at a little marble-topped table. I was wondering how far I could throw the table, if necessary, when Sam asked, "So what are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

"Just having dinner with Anne, I think," I said.

"It's too bad you won't be with your parents."

"True." I nodded and applied myself to my sundae.

"We're going to have hell dinner with the relatives," Sam said. He held up his maraschino cherry. "Want mine?"

"Yep." He put it on top of my sundae and smiled. I smiled back. "Why is it hell dinner?"

He made a face. "My two oldest sisters will be back. There will be much hogging of the bathrooms, phone, and TV. My uncle Ted will talk nonstop about his business, which is insurance."

I winced in sympathy.

"Mom will try to keep Aunt Phyllis away from the liquor, but it won't work. Dad will be trying to watch the football game, so he'll be shouting at the TV and spilling corn nuts on the carpet." Sam shrugged. I liked the way his chestnut hair sort of fell over his forehead. And he had nice eyes. Hazel colored. Kind of tortoiseshell.

"Sounds pretty bad," I said. Was that kind of Thanksgiving common? I had no idea. I only knew what I'd seen on TV. What kind of Thanksgiving would my old friends Ella and Dr. Martinez have?

Sam shrugged again. "It'll suck. But then it'll be over, and I'll have four weeks to brace myself for Christmas."

I laughed, and he grinned back at me. A slight movement behind him caught my eye. Sam had his back to the big plate-glass window, and someone had walked past it. No-someone was still there.

My hand froze in midair, and my heart felt encased in ice.

Ari was outside, giving me a predator's grin and a thumbs-up sign.

Right in the middle of my freaking date.

Quickly I glanced around the shop. There was an exit behind the counter. I could knock over this table to slow him down...

"Max? Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," I muttered absently, my eyes locked on Ari. He grinned again at me, then walked past the window. I saw a flash of streaked hair next to him, and then I saw my reflection in the window.

Sam turned to see what I was looking at just as Ari slipped out of sight.