“Oh, my God,” breathed Nudge. “That is so awesome.”
Angel smiled and, just as quickly, turned back into herself. “So far I can only do those two,” she said. “But I bet if I practice, I can do other stuff.”
“Uh-huh,” I said weakly.
“How come she can do that and I can’t?” the Gasman asked.
“You’re siblings, not twins,” I said, giving mental thanks.
“We’re all changing a lot,” said Nudge, sounding worried. “We’re changing in ways they didn’t plan, didn’t expect.”
“Yeah,” said Iggy. “By the end of the week, we’ll be tadpoles.”
“Iggy,” said Nudge, “I’m serious. We don’t know what’s going to happen to us.”
I looked at my flock. Fang was guarded; the rest looked varying degrees of anxious. Time to put on my leader hat.
“Listen up, guys,” I said, sounding calm and in charge. I should be on Broadway, I really should. “It’s true we’re changing, and in ways they didn’t program. And we have no idea what’s going to happen next. But you know what? No one else does either. It’s the one way that we’re like the rest of all the people out there.” I waved my arms to demonstrate “world.”
“No one ever knows what’s going to happen next,” I went on. “People change all the time, and they’re not sure how they’ll end up. They might be short or tall, able to play the piano or not; they might have their mom’s eyes or their dad’s nose or their uncle’s bald spot. It’s always a mystery. It’s the one constant, everywhere, with everyone. We’re just a little more exciting, a little cooler than most.”
Was I good or was I good?
My flock looked calmer, more cheerful. They nodded and smiled.
“Okay, now,” I said more briskly. “Time for bed.” I held my fist out. One by one, my flock stacked theirs on top, and then we headed up into the trees to sleep the sleep of the innocent.
Well, okay, maybe not so innocent. But the sleep of the much less guilty than others, for sure.
24
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Greetings, faithful readers. This site has had over 600,000 hits, which is unbelievable. It’s not like we’re here dropping Mentos into Coke bottles or anything. This is just us. But I’m glad you’ve tuned in.
The big news of today is that we’ve all decided to settle down and go to regular school and stuff, and Fox is going to make a reality TV series out of it, called Bird Kids in the House! They’ll have like a hundred cameras all over the place, and they can film Iggy cooking and Angel doing her weird stuff, and Total listening to his iPod.
They can film Max leading.
Nah, I’m just kidding. No reality series. Our lives are probably a little too real for most people, if you know what I’m saying. Although, hey, if anyone from Fox is reading this, make us an offer!
We’re not sure what’s going to happen next. After our weird meetings in DC, we’re craving more fresh air and fewer desk jockeys. But it’s starting to occur to me (forgive me if I’ve been a little slow) that maybe we, the flock, I mean, should be working toward something besides just trying to eat enough every day. For a long time, our goal was to find our parents. And look how well that turned out for us. Now we’re fresh out of goals, and you know what? It feels a little — tame. I mean, if we’re not out there butting heads with the buttheads that are destroying the world, then what are we doing? What’s our point? Why are we here?
Granted, our options are somewhat limited, given the number of people who want to kill us, or worse. Plus, I understand there are pesky child-labor laws that will get in our way. Frankly, though we can do all sorts of cool stuff, we’re not actually qualified for a lot of occupations. Like, any occupation that requires actual education. Which pretty much leaves the entertainment industry.
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But I’ve been thinking . . . maybe we could become spokesmutants. For different causes. We could be the poster children for both animal and child abuse, for example.
If anyone has any answers, drop me a line.
— Fang out
Part Two
ICE PRINCES AND PRINCESSES