James Patterson - Two Schools Out - Forever

Twenty minutes later, Anne pulled into a driveway and clicked an electronic gadget. A pair of wrought-iron gates swung open, and she pulled through.

The gates closed behind us, which made my sensors go on precautionary alert.

It took almost a whole minute to get to her house. The driveway was made of crushed shells and wound through beautiful trees arching overhead. Red and yellow leaves fluttered gently down onto the car.

"Well, here we are," she said, pulling around a corner. "I hope you like it."

We stared out the car windows. Anne's house looked like a painting. It had rounded river rocks on the bottom part, and clapboards above, and a big screened porch that covered almost the whole front. Large shrubs circled the yard, and some of them still had faded hydrangea blooms.

"There's a pond out back," Anne said, pulling into a parking space in front of the house. "It's so shallow that it might still be warm enough to swim in, in the afternoons. Here, everyone pile out."

We poured out of the car, glad to be in a wide-open space again.

"The air smells different here," said Nudge, wrinkling her nose. "It smells great."

The house stood on the top of a low hill. Sloping away from us were wide lawns and an orchard. The trees were actually covered with apples. Birds twittered and sang. I couldn't hear traffic, or smell road tar, or hear any other person.

Anne opened the front door. "Well, don't just stand there," she said with a laugh. "Come see your rooms."

I nodded, and Angel and Nudge started toward the house, followed by Gazzy.

Iggy was standing next to me. "What does it look like?" he asked in a low voice.

"It looks like paradise, Jeff," said Fang.

The rough bark of the tree was cutting into his legs, but Ari paid no attention.

After the pain of having huge wings retrofitted onto his shoulders, this was child's play. He grinned at that thought. Technically, anything he did was child's play: He was only seven years old. Eight next April. Not that it mattered. He wouldn't get presents or a cake. His dad probably wouldn't even remember.

He put the binoculars to his eyes again, clenching his jaw. He saw the mutant bird freaks get out of the car. He'd already been over the grounds, looked in the windows of the house. Those kids were in a for a cushy stay. At least for a while.

It wasn't fair. There wasn't even a word for how unfair it was. Ari's hand clutched a small branch so tightly that the branch snapped, sending a long, thin sliver under his skin.

He looked at it, waiting for the pain signals to make their sluggish way to his brain. Bright red blood welled around the splinter. Ari pinched the splinter out and threw it away before his brain even recognized that he'd been hurt.

Here he was, in a tree, his team camped nearby, stuck watching the mutant freaks through binoculars.

He should be on the ground, tapping Max on the shoulder, seeing her whirl, then smashing his fist right into her face.

But no. Instead, she was sashaying inside the fancy house, thinking she was perfect, better than anyone, better than him.

The one fun thing of the last forty-eight hours had been Max's expression when she'd seen he was alive. She'd been shocked. Shocked and horrified, Ari remembered proudly. He wanted her to look like that every time she saw him.

So, fine. Get some R amp;R, Maximum, Ari thought acidly. Your time is coming. And I'll be there waiting for you. I'll always be there.

The hatred coiled in his gut, twisting his insides, and he felt himself morphing, his facial bones elongating, his shoulders hunching.

He watched as the coarse hair covered his arms, lightning fast, and ragged claws erupted from his fingertips. He wanted to rake these claws down Max's face, that perfect face...

Anguish welled up and choked him, turning his world black, and without thinking, he sank his fangs into his own arm. Clenching his jaw hard, he waited for the physical pain. Finally, gasping, he sat back, his mouth red with blood, his arm coldly numb with pain. Ah. That was better.

Guess how many bedrooms Anne's little country shack had. Seven. One for her, one for each bird kid. Guess how many bathrooms it had. Five. Five bathrooms all in one house.

"Max!" The Gasman pounded on my bedroom door.

I opened it, my hair still wet from my long, incredibly hot shower.

"Can I go outside?" he asked.

"Gee, I had forgotten the natural color of your skin," I told him. "I was convinced you were kind of dirt colored."

He grinned at me. "Call it camouflage. Can I go outside?"

"Yeah, let's all go together, give Iggy some landmarks."

"What is that, like, a plane hangar?" Nudge asked.

A grove of trees had hidden the big red building from the house, but now that we were doing recon, we were finding all kinds of things.

"It's a barn," said Fang.

I was keeping an eye on him. As soon as he started to look tired, I was going to send him back to the house.

"A barn with animals?" asked Angel excitedly.

Just then, Total started barking, as if he'd picked up something's scent.

"Yep, guess so," I said, scooping Total up in my arms. "Listen, you," I told him. "No more with the barking. You're going to spook somebody."

Total looked offended but stayed quiet as long as I held him.

"That first one is Sugar," said Anne, coming up behind us. She'd given us free rein of the place after she'd shown us our rooms and stuff.

We stood in the open barn doorway and watched Sugar, a pale gray horse who was looking back at us with interest.

"He's beautiful," Nudge whispered.

"He's big," said the Gasman.

"Big and sweet," said Anne, opening a box and taking out a carrot. She handed it to Nudge and nodded at the horse. "Go on. He likes carrots. Hold it flat in your hand."

Cautiously Nudge stepped forward, holding out the carrot. This is a kid who could break a man's ribs with a well-placed kick, but she was almost trembling as she approached the horse.

Sugar very delicately lipped up the carrot, then crunched it with satisfaction.

Nudge turned to me, her face glowing, and my heart caught in my throat. It was like we were inner-city kids getting a week on the farm as part of a social service program. We were surrounded by beautiful scenery and fresh air, there were animals, and-

"You guys have another half hour," Anne said, turning to go back to the house. "Dinner's at six."

And, I was going to say, plenty of food. It was amazing.

Where was the catch? 'Cause I knew one was coming.

"Oh, yeah!" said the Gasman, looking at the pond. "I am so there!"

Anne's pond was about as big as a football stadium, with a small, rocky shore edged by cattails and daylilies.

I stared at it suspiciously, waiting for the Pond Ness Monster to rise out of its depths. Okay, call me hopelessly paranoid, but this whole place was starting to seem creepily idyllic. Like, my bedroom was charming. Charming! What did I know about charming? I'd never called anything charming before in my life.

And now here I was, eyes narrowed at a picture-perfect pond. Was this some new freakish test?

"We don't have time right now, Gazzy," I said, clamping down on my rising fears. "But maybe we can go swimming tomorrow."

"It's just so beautiful here," Nudge said, gazing at the untrustable rolling hills, the dark, secret-concealing orchard, the pond (see above rant re pond), the small, literally babbling brook that ran into the pond. "Like the Garden of Eden."

"Yeah, and that turned out so well," I muttered under my breath.