Angel (Maximum Ride 7)

“Kill the humans!” Iggy yelled.

“Those kind of weird thoughts, apparently,” I said. “He’s just too way out right now. In the movies, they always throw people in cold showers to make them calm down. Think that’d work?”

Angel gave me a look. “Max, when has Iggy ever been docile about taking a shower?” She had a point, but it was worth a shot anyway. We didn’t exactly have a backup plan.

It wasn’t pretty. It took all three of us to get Iggy into the tub and turn on the cold water. Then Iggy went haywire. He bolted like a wild horse and tried to leap out. Dylan and I grabbed him, using all our strength to wrestle him back under the shower.

“What are you doing?” Iggy wailed in a voice I’d never heard before, as if the water were acid. “What are you doing?”

He seemed terrified, but the three of us fought to hold him under the shower while he thrashed around.

“Stop! Stop!” Iggy yelled, tears running down his cheeks. He was drenched, like the rest of us, his reddish-blond hair flopping to one side. Tiny water droplets clung to his eyelashes, and his cheeks were flushed. “What’s happening?!”

“I don’t know!” I shouted.

“You’re killing me!” Iggy shrieked, hardly sounding human. He writhed and moaned, wrenching his body back and forth.

“I’m dying!” Iggy wailed, his hands clawing at the side of the tub. “I’m dying!!”

I was seriously freaked. I mean, all the kids hated taking showers, but I’d never seen anything like this.

Then Iggy suddenly slumped down in the tub, his eyes closed.

“Oh, my God!” I panicked. “Turn it to warm water, Dylan—now!”

“I’m getting in,” Angel whispered as the water temperature rose. “Lines of communication are opening up, and if I work at these crazy knots of death thoughts, I can break through to him. He’s still freaking out, but there doesn’t seem to be the same level of resistance.”

Then he twitched.

“Iggy…” I held my breath.

He blinked slowly and shook the water out of his eyes.

“What… what are you doing?” he asked, sounding kind of groggy. Groggy… a lot like the old Iggy.

My eyes brightened, and Dylan and Angel and I all exchanged hopeful glances.

“Iggy?” I asked again.

“Yeah?” He blinked, wiping his face with one hand. “What are you guys doing? If you wanted me to take a shower, all you had to do was pay me ten bucks, like you usually do.” He ran one hand through his hair, making it stand up in wet peaks.

I let out a deep breath and looked at Angel: her face was beaming. She looked at me and nodded—his thoughts were back to normal.

“So what’s going on?” he demanded, sitting up a bit.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

“Like a wet dog,” he answered irritably. “What’s wrong with you guys?”

39

“I WON’T DO IT,” Star said.

“Then I guess this whole trust exercise has failed,” Fang said mildly. The gang had fun together earlier—he’d forgotten how simultaneously repulsive and delicious Cheez Whiz could be—but within minutes they were all at each other’s throats again.

Max used to threaten and bully people into working together. But that approach quit having the desired effect long before Fang had left. He needed to do something different, something better.

So, he Googled “team building.” Which, he discovered, really meant a rousing little game of Never Have I Ever.