But nooo.
First we had to listen to the headhunter chew us out. Granted, being chewed out by someone as horrible as the headhunter was a walk in the park compared to, say, having Erasers try to kill you. But still, an afternoon-ruiner, for sure.
“The stink bomb was reason enough!” Mr. Pruitt shouted. “But I stupidly gave you a second chance! You’re nothing but a bunch of street rats! Vermin!”
I was impressed. Vermin was a new one on me, and I’d been called everything from arrogant to zealous.
Mr. Pruitt paused to suck in a breath, and I jumped in.
“My brothers didn’t do the stink bomb! You never proved it. Now you’re accusing us again with no evidence! How—how un-American!”
I thought the headhunter was going to pop a vessel. Instead he reached out and grabbed the Gasman’s hands, holding them in the air.
My heart sank as I saw the smudges of black powder, ground into his skin when the bomb went off.
“Besides that!” I blustered.
The headhunter seemed to swell with new rage, but just at that moment, the assistant showed Anne into the office.
She didn’t work for the FBI for nothing—somehow she managed to calm the headhunter down and shooed us out of the office and into her Suburban.
For half a mile there was silence in the car, but then she started in.
“This was your big opportunity, kids,” she began. “I’d had higher hopes. . . .”
There was a bunch more, but I tuned it out, gazing through my window at the fading autumn color. Every once in a while words floated into my consciousness: grounded, big trouble, disappointed, upset, no TV. And so on.
None of us said anything. It had been years since we’d had to answer to any grown-up. We weren’t about to start
now.
66
What Anne didn’t get was that only weeks ago we’d been sleeping in subway tunnels and scrounging for food. So being “grounded” and not able to watch TV was, like, meaningless.
“We still have this whole house,” Nudge pointed out in a whisper. “It’s full of books and games and food.”
“No dessert, though,” Total said mournfully. “And I didn’t do anything!”
“Yeah, no dessert,” said the Gasman indignantly.
I glared at him. “And whose fault is that, wise guy? You and Iggy screwed up again. For God’s sake, quit bringing explosives to school!”
“We did hear the headhunter telling Ms. Cox to bury some files,” the Gasman reminded me. “If we could find them, it might give us something to use against him.”
I sighed. “How about we just stay under the radar until we leave? Don’t retaliate, don’t do anything else. Just quietly get through the rest of our time here.”
“How long will we be here? Did you decide when you want to leave?” Angel asked.
“Yeah,” I said drily. “Two weeks ago.”
“Can we just stay through Thanksgiving?” Nudge asked. “We’ve never had a Thanksgiving meal. Please?”
I nodded reluctantly. “If no one else messes up, that should be okay.”
I went upstairs and headed to my room. As I passed Anne’s open door, I heard the TV. The words missing children caught my attention, and I paused, listening.
“Yes, the recent disappearance of several area children has brought back difficult memories for other parents who have lost children, whether recently or years ago. We’re talking now with Mr. and Mrs. Griffiths, whose only son was taken from a local hospital right after his birth.”