“Did they change the name?” Iggy asked.
Fang shook his head. “Don’t think so—it doesn’t say that anywhere.”
I double-checked the mystery files. “The Standish Home had the exact same address. And look at this office stationery—it has a little drawing of the building.” I showed it to the others. It was a drawing of our school, exactly.
I looked up at the flock. “This can’t be good,” I said, with my natural gift for understatement.
“Should we ask Anne about it?” Iggy asked.
Fang and I met eyes. He gave the tiniest shake of his head.
“What for?” I said. “Either she knows about it and is in on everything, so we don’t want to tip her off that we know, or she only knows what they told her and so can’t help us.”
We were quiet for a few moments, each of us thinking. I heard the TV click on in the kitchen. Anne took out pots and opened the fridge. The news was on, talking about an upcoming cold snap and who had won a recent college football game. Then a male newscaster said, “And in our nation’s capital today, the president made a surprising announcement that has many politicos scratching their heads. Only three days before this year’s budget was supposed to be presented, President Danning announced a stunning revision: He has taken back almost a billion dollars allotted to the military and is channeling it into public education, as well as nationwide shelters for homeless women and children.”
I froze.
Fang and I exchanged looks of disbelief, then I looked at Angel. She was grinning. I heard Total laugh, and then Angel and Total slapped high fives. Well, Total slapped a high four.
I dropped my head and rubbed my temples, which had suddenly started pounding. We had to get out of this town. Next Angel would be making the president ban homework or something.
78
That night, at exactly 11:05, six windows on the second floor of Anne’s house opened. One by one we jumped out of our respective rooms, fell about eight feet, then snapped our wings open and got some uplift.
The six of us flew through the dark, chilly night. There were no clouds, and the moon shone so brightly that the trees below us cast long shadows.
The bat cave looked satisfyingly like something from a horror movie. Fang had discovered it weeks ago. It was set into an old limestone ridge a couple miles from the house. Overgrown vines, dead with approaching winter, obscured the entrance. We flew through them, trying not to get tangled, and braked to a fast stop inside. The cave was full of stalactites hanging down like teeth from the ceiling, and somewhere in the darkness there was an ominous drip of unseen water. About thirty feet in, the air became thick with the acidic smell of guano, so we stayed near the opening.
“I bet no people have ever been in here,” said Gazzy, sitting cross-legged in the entrance. “They’d have to rock climb just to get up here.”
“I wish we could see what’s farther back,” said Nudge.
“Yeah, me too,” said Iggy brightly.
“Okay, guys,” I said. “Listen, I’ve been thinking, and I really think it’s time for us to move on. This has been a great break, but we’re all rested, healed up, and we should disappear again.”
This announcement was not met with confetti and noisemakers.
“I mean,” I went on in the deafening silence, “Ari knows we’re close by. He attacked us on our way home from school—he probably has cameras trained on Anne’s house. The headhunter has it in for us. Now the weird files from the school, the mystery tunnel—it’s all adding up to an ugly picture.” Not to mention what Angel might be doing to the leader of the free world. I shot her a hard glance, in case she was listening in on my thoughts, and she grinned at me.
“We should clear out of here before all this stuff starts hitting the fan.”
I saw Nudge and Gazzy glance at each other. Angel leaned her head against Iggy’s shoulder. He patted her hair. More silence.
“I mean, maybe this is where we learn to think smart, stay one step ahead of the game instead of having the game bite us in the ass.”
Or maybe this is the time you learn how to stay and make it work.
I scowled. This isn’t a relationship, Voice. It’s a trap, or a test, or at best a surreal side trip on a journey that’s already been fairly mind-blowing.
“It’s just that . . . ,” Nudge began, looking at Gazzy. He gave her an encouraging nod. “Well, Thursday’s Thanksgiving. We only have half a day of school Wednesday, and then it’s Thanksgiving.”
“We’ve never had a real Thanksgiving dinner before,” said Angel. “Anne’s going to make turkey and pumpkin pie.”
Frustration made me snide, in that endearing way I had. “Yeah, and that’s worth staying in town for—Anne’s home cooking.”
The younger kids looked abashed, and I felt like a jerk, raining on their parade.