James Patterson - Two Schools Out - Forever

"We're-friends," I said. "We-were taken too. But you're the first parents we've found." I hadn't meant to say that. What was wrong with me? Usually I was much stealthier and more secretive.

Mr. and Mrs. Griffiths looked even more surprised and concerned.

"So, uh, what now?" I asked briskly, rubbing my palms on my jeans.

The two grown-ups shot quick glances at each other. Mr. Griffiths gave his wife a subtle nod, and she turned to me. "James belongs with us," she said firmly. "I thought I'd lost him forever. Now that we have him back, I'm never letting him go. Do you hear me?" She looked positively fierce, and I held up my hands in the universal "Whoa, Nelly" gesture.

"No one's going to try to stop you. I think he's James too. But you know he's blind."

"I don't care," said Mrs. Griffiths, looking at Iggy with love. "I don't care if there are a million problems. We can handle anything, if we have him back."

Okay, that might cover the whole wing wrinkle...

"Iggy? Do you want to stay?" I asked.

His face flushed again, but underneath his reserve I saw the hint of an unbelieving happiness. My heart squeezed painfully, and I thought, I'm losing him.

Slowly Iggy nodded. "I guess this is where I belong."

I patted his arm. "Yeah," I said softly.

"Do you have-things?" asked Mrs. Griffiths. "We'll move a bigger bed into what used to be your room. I haven't changed anything in there-just in case you came back to us someday." She touched his face gently. "It's a miracle. I can't believe it. If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up."

Iggy smiled faintly. "I don't have much of anything, actually," he said. He held up the small backpack that we'd filled with a few crucial supplies from Anne's house.

"Fine," said Mrs. Griffiths. "We can get you anything you need."

Spoken like a real parent.

And that's how one of us found his real parents. I won't bore you with the whole heartrending good-bye scene. Suffice it to say that mucho tears were shed. There was much going on in the "lamenting" department. I really don't want to talk about it.

Okay, I'll give you one little insight. I'd grown up with Iggy, known him my whole short, horrible life. I'd known him back when he could see, helped him learn how to fly. He was less obnoxious than Fang, quieter than Nudge, and a better cook than any of us. He was the Gasman's best friend. And yeah, friends move away, and it's sad and then you get over it. But there were only five people in the entire freaking world that I cared about and trusted, and I had just lost one of them. I'd had to walk away knowing that Iggy was standing in the doorway as if he could actually watch us leave, watch us leave him behind forever.

Basically, I felt like my heart had been stomped on by a soccer team wearing cleats.

But enough about me. I said I didn't want to talk about it.

Anne was quite the panicky mother hen about losing one of her chicks, especially since we wouldn't tell her squat about it.

All weekend she made hysterical phone calls and hovered over us, alternately begging, pleading, crying, and threatening. But all we would say was that he had left because he wanted to and he was safe. End of discussion.

Except Anne didn't understand what "end of discussion" meant. Saying "end of discussion" really only works if the other person actually shuts up about it. Anne didn't.

By Monday morning, our nerves were all stretched pretty thin. For one thing, I felt like my left arm had been cut off, because Iggy was gone. I'd found Nudge crying in her room twice; and Gazzy seemed practically catatonic without his favorite partner in crime. Angel didn't try to be stoic but climbed into my lap sobbing. Which meant that Total joined us.

"I'm such a marshmallow," he sobbed, tears making wet spots on his fur.

It took a lot to make any one of us cry. Losing Iggy was plenty. So with all the tears and heartache and sleeplessness, and then Anne riding me, trying to find out where Iggy was, by Monday morning I was pretty much ready to snap.

I mean, I was happy for him. Way happy. But more than sad for the rest of us. And knowing that this could happen again, to any of us, made me feel like the Titanic, plowing right toward an iceberg.

"I'm going to report Jeff missing at school," Anne told us as we filed out to the car.

"Okay," I said wearily, knowing it wouldn't help. We all piled into her Suburban and she headed to school, back as rigid as a steel pipe.

"I'm going to call the police," she said, looking at me in the mirror.

"Whatever," I said, ready to explode. "Why don't you put his face on a milk carton? He's just another one of those missing kids, isn't he? This place is full of them."

Anne's face in the mirror looked taken aback, almost-was it afraid? Interestingly, after that she dropped it.

Which meant what?

"Right! You all have your orders," Ari barked. He rolled his shoulders under his black leather coat. Another Eraser was driving, and twelve more crouched in the back of the van. "We go in, we grab the mutants, we clear out. Like surgery, right?"

"Right," several Erasers muttered.

Take the mutants alive, his Voice reminded him.

"Remember-take the mutants alive," Ari said. He grinned, looking forward to what was about to happen. "And no one touches Max! She's mine." He waited for the Voice to jump in with more advice, but it was silent.

He rubbed his hands together, already itching to feel his fists connect with Max's face. Sure, Dad had said to bring Max back alive-there was more he wanted to learn about her. But the only thing Ari wanted to learn was what size coffin she'd need. He knew how he'd play it: Despite his orders, another Eraser had "gone crazy," killing everything in sight. Before Ari could stop him, he'd ripped out Max's throat. Then Jeb would kill that Eraser, Max would be dead, and Ari would be sitting pretty.

There were no downsides.

On the other hand... what if Max "disappeared"? What if Ari took Max and stashed her somewhere where no one could find her and she couldn't escape? He thought he knew a place. If Max was trapped, if she had no hope of escaping, and if Ari was the only one keeping her alive with food and water-then she'd get used to him, right? She'd be grateful to him, even. It would be just the two of them, with no one telling them what to do. They would become friends. Max would like him. They could play cards. She could read to him. They could play outside.

This was sounding more and more like the best idea he'd had all year. And he knew a good place to take her. Someplace she couldn't escape from. That is, once he'd cut her wings off.

"I have one more announcement," said Mr. Pruitt, staring balefully at the entire student body. It was Monday-morning assembly, and we were all trapped in the school auditorium, listening to the headhunter spew bile at us. At least it was equal-opportunity bile-not aimed at just the flock. So far he'd vented his feelings about how messy we left the lunchroom, how we thieving little punks had stolen school supplies, and how he doubted our ability to use the restrooms like normal human beings.

The man definitely had issues.

"One of our students has gone missing," Mr. Pruitt said, seeming to stare right at me.

I put on an innocent "Who, moi?" expression.

"Jeff Walker," the headhunter went on. "From ninth grade. Though he was a new student, I'm sure you all know whom I'm talking about. We're calling in a special detective unit," he said, narrowing his eyes at me. I kept my face carefully blank. "But if any of you have seen him, or know anything, or have any information whatsoever, come forward now. If we later find out that you did know something and did not come forward, it will be very bad for you. Am I making myself clear?"