Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment

4

"I want to go pick strawberries today," Angel said firmly, scooping up a forkful of scrambled eggs. "They're ripe now."

"Okay, Angel, I'll go with you," said Gasman. Just then he let rip one of his unfortunate occurrences and giggled.

"Oh, jeez, Gazzy." I said disapprovingly.

"Gas. .  .mask!" Iggy choked out, grasping his neck and pretending to asphyxiate.

"I'm done," Fang said, getting up quickly and taking his plate to the sink.

"Sorry," the Gasman said automatically, but he kept eating.

"Yeah, Angel," said Nudge, " I think the fresh air would do us all good. I'll go too."

"We'll all go," I said.

Outside, it was beautiful, clear and cloudless, with the first real heat of May. We carried buckets and baskets as Angel led us to a huge patch of wild strawberries.

She held my hand. "If you make cake, I can make strawberry shortcakes," she said happily.

"Yeah, that'll be the day, when Max makes a cake," I heard Iggy say. "I'll make it, Angel."

I whirled. "Oh, thank you!" I exclaimed. "Okay, I'm not a fabulous cook. But I can still kick your butt, and don't you forget it!"

Iggy was laughing, holding up his hands in denial. Nudge was trying not to laugh, even Fang was grinning, and the Gasman looked ... mischievous.

"Was that you?" I asked Gazzy.

He grinned and shrugged, trying not to look too pleased with himself. The Gasman had been about three when I realized he could mimic just about any sound or voice. It was a dark gift, and he wielded it happily.

It was just another weird ability -- most of us had them. Whatever they were, they sure made life more interesting.

Next to me, Angel cried and screamed.

Startled, I stared down at her, and in the next second, men with wolfish muzzles, huge canines, and reddish, glinting eyes dropped out of the sky like spiders. Erasers! And it wasn't a dream.