Fang was looking at me, still and intent. I knew he had already decided to go check it out, and I nodded briefly.
“There’s more,” Angel said. Her small voice wavered, and she pressed her face into my shoulder.
“You know how we always talk about our parents but didn’t really know if we were made in test tubes?” Angel said. I nodded.
“I saw my name in Jeb’s old files,” Nudge insisted. “I really did.”
“I know, Nudge,” I said. “Listen to Angel for a minute.”
“Nudge is right,” Angel blurted. “We did have parents—real parents. We weren’t made in test tubes. We were born, like real babies. We were born from human mothers.”
71
I think if a twig had snapped right then, we all would have leaped ten feet into the air.
“You’ve sat on this since yesterday?” Iggy sounded outraged. “What’s the matter with you? Just because you’re the youngest doesn’t mean you have to be the dumbest.”
“Look,” I said, taking a breath, “let’s all calm down and let Angel talk.” I brushed her curls out of her face. “Can you tell us everything you heard?”
“I only got bits and pieces,” she said uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, everybody. I’ve just felt yucky . . . and it all makes me really, really sad too. I don’t wanna cry again. Awhh, I’m crying again.”
“It’s okay, Angel,” Fang said in his low, quiet voice. “We understand. You’re safe now, here with us.”
Nudge looked as if she was about to explode, and I sent her a glance that said, Okay, just hang on. The Gasman edged closer to me and took hold of my belt loop for comfort. I put one arm around him and held on to Angel with the other.
“It sounded like,” Angel began slowly, “we came from different places, different hospitals. But they got us after we were born. We weren’t test-tube babies.”
“How did they get us?” Fang asked. “And how did they get the bird genes into us?”
“I didn’t really understand,” said Angel. “It sounded like—like they got the genes into us before
we were born somehow.” She rubbed her forehead. “With a test? An amino . . . ammo . . .”
“Amniocentesis?” I asked, cold outrage creeping down my spine.
“Yeah,” said Angel. “That’s it. And somehow they got the bird genes into us with it.”
“It’s okay, just keep going,” I said. I could explain it to them later.
“So we got born, and the doctors gave us to the School,” Angel went on. “I heard—I heard that they told Nudge’s mom and dad that she had died. But she hadn’t.”
Nudge made a gulping sound, her large brown eyes full of tears. “I did have a mom and dad,” she whispered. “I did!”
“And Iggy’s mom—”
I saw Iggy tense, his acute hearing focused on Angel’s small voice.
“Died,” Angel said, and took in a shuddering breath. “She died when he was born.”
The look of stunned grief on Iggy’s expressive face was awful to see. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I just wanted to take away everyone’s pain.
“What about us?” the Gasman asked. “How could they get both of us, two years apart?”
Angel wiped her eyes. “Our parents gave us to the School themselves,” she said, and started crying again, her thin shoulders shaking.
The Gasman’s mouth dropped open, his eyes as round as wheels. “What?”
“They wanted to help the School,” Angel said, gasping out the words through her sobs. “They let them put bird genes in us. And gave us away for money.”