“Beach it is,” I said, swerving in a graceful arc, heading east.
Max, you’re acting like a child, the Voice said. You’re above rebelling against your fate just to rebel. You’ve got a date with destiny. Don’t be late.
I brushed some hair out of my eyes. Is that a movie quote? Or is it an actual date? I don’t remember destiny asking me. I never even gave destiny my phone number.
The Voice never displayed emotion, so I might have imagined the tense patience I heard. Max, sooner or later you have to take this seriously. If it was just your life, no one would care if you bothered. But we’re talking about saving everyone’s lives.
For some reason that really stung. My jaw set. Shut up! I’m tired of you! Tired of my so-called destiny! I’m acting like a child because I am a child! Just leave me the hell alone!
I felt tears forming in my eyes, which burned from the constant wind. I couldn’t take this anymore. I’d been having a rare decent day, and now the Voice had ruined it, dropping the whole world onto my shoulders again.
“Yo.”
I looked over to see Fang watching me. “You okay? Is this a headache?”
I nodded and wiped my eyes, feeling like I was about to explode. “Yeah,” I said. “A huge, freaking, unbearable headache!” I was practically shouting at the end, and five heads turned toward me. I had to get out of here. And, thanks to my supersonic power, I could, in the blink of an eye.
102
“See you at the beach,” I muttered to Fang, and then I hunched my shoulders and poured on the speed. In seconds I had shot way past the flock, the wind making my eyes water more. It was funny, but going this fast almost made me want to put my arms out in front of me, like Superman, as if it would split the air out of my way or something.
What the hey—no one could see me. I stretched my arms out in front, feeling like an arrow, a spear, slicing through heaven.
I was at the beach in four minutes. I braked and slowed down, but not enough, and ended up running too fast through the sand and then tripping onto my face. Slowly I got up, spitting out sand, and brushed myself off. I was burning up and pulled off my sweatshirt.
I had maybe twenty minutes till the rest of them came. I walked along the beach, keeping my wings out so they would cool off. I felt desperate and scared and angry. “I don’t even know how to save the world,” I said out loud, hating how pathetic I sounded.
By existing, said the Voice. By being strong. By lasting.
“Shut up!” I yelled, kicking a piece of driftwood so hard it practically flew out of sight.
I’d had it, totally had it. No more. I ran to the water’s edge and looked down at the sand. In moments I had found it—a piece of broken shell, sharp on one side.
It was time for the chip to go. The Voice came from the chip, I was sure of it. No chip, no Voice inside my head that I couldn’t get away from. I pressed my lips together hard and started sawing at my forearm, where I had seen the chip on an X-ray, three lifetimes ago, in Dr. Martinez’s office.
The first slice brought blood and a surprising amount of pain. I clenched my teeth harder and kept sawing. Blood ran down my arm. I would have to cut through tendons and muscles and veins to get to the chip. Dr. Martinez had said that if I tried to take it out, I could lose the use of my arm.
Too bad.
I heard skidding, running footsteps behind me, and then Fang was panting over me.
“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted, and grabbed my wrist, smacking my hand to make me drop the piece of shell. “Are you crazy?”
I glared at him, then saw the rest of the flock approaching slowly. I realized what they must be seeing: me kneeling on sand stained red with blood. I was beyond being upset.
“Want the chip out,” I said brokenly. I looked down, feeling a thousand years old. Just over a week ago, I’d been a fourteen-year-old girl on her first date, getting her first kiss. Now I was me again, a mutant freak running away from a fate that was closing around me like a net.
“Look where you’re cutting!” Fang snapped. “You’re going to bleed to death, you idiot!” He threw my hand down and took off his backpack. In the next moment he was dumping antiseptic into my wound, making me wince.
Nudge lowered herself to the sand next to me. “Max,” she said, her eyes huge, “what were you doing?” She sounded horrified, shocked.
“I wanted to get the chip out,” I whispered.
“Well, forget it!” Fang said angrily, now starting to bandage my arm. ?
?The chip stays in. You don’t get off that easy! You die when we die!”
I looked up at him, his face pale with anger, his jaw tight. I had scared him. I had scared them all. I was supposed to be the solution, not the problem. I wasn’t supposed to make things worse.