“It’s really cool. It has dinosaur skeletons, and a huge stuffed whale hanging from the ceiling, and meteors and diamonds.”
“Sounds cool,” said Angel. Maybe she would ask Anne to bring them there. Maybe she should just get her teacher to think of detouring there today. No, maybe not. If Max found out, she would be mad. Angel patted Celeste, tucked into the waistband of her plaid school skirt, and decided to just go with the program. For now.
60
If you’re ever feeling a lack of middle-aged white men, just pop into the Capitol. Not so much the House of Representatives, which has a bit more color and texture, but the Senate—jeez. Yes, let’s have more testosterone running the country.
In the Capitol building we watched a short movie about our Founding Fathers and how they tried to create a perfect system of government. They sounded so freaking sincere, the whole “perfect union” and “all men are created equal” thing. Except of course for the men they owned as household property. Not to put a fly in the ointment.
But despite all that, hearing their words, seeing the Constitution, getting the whole story of what they were trying to do—well, you gotta give ’em credit. They really were trying to set up something good and fair. Kind of in a way that no other country, before or since, had tried to do.
Long and short of it: Democracy gets a big thumbs-up from me.
The Vietnam Wall was awful. A huge, smooth black granite monolith covered with names of people who died in a war. Very depressing. I saw Nudge make the mistake of touching the Wall. She almost doubled over—her ability to sense people and emotions through leftover vibrations must have been mind-blowing here. A couple of her new friends put their arms around her, and I saw one pull out a tissue. I would talk to her about it later.
Then the White House.
Well. It is one big, fancy hacienda, let me tell you. Not a castle. Not as froufrou as the Taj Mahal or Graceland. But still mucho impressive.
You know, being in the White House—surrounded by invisible state-of-the-art security systems, as well as extremely visible guards with guns—I felt the safest I had in ages. If anyone wanted to get to us, they’d have to go through White House security first. Which I was comfortable with.
We saw the “Parrot” collection of rooms (Red, Blue, Green), as well as the gi-normous State Dining Hall. The library was weensy, as libraries go. There was a whole room just for presidential china, which I got a kick out of. What next? The presidential pantry?
After a while, even with the different colors, the rooms started melding together: undersized antique furniture, fancy curtains, famous paintings of famous people I sometimes recognized. When I thought about all the history that had actually happened where I stood, I almost got a little chill. Or it could have been the inadequate heating.
It just cracked me up that here I was, Maximum Ride, in person, on a school field trip. I mean, how freakish was that? This past week was the first time I’d ever gone to school in my life. I’d grown up in a dog crate. I had freaking wings. But here I was, commingling with the best of ’em, playing nicely with others. Sometimes I just impress the h out of myself.
Finally our guide rounded us all up in the visitors’ center.
“Come on, we have ten minutes to get souvenirs,” said J.J., heading to a display case. I had no one to buy souvenirs for: We can’t collect stuff. It would weigh us down too much.
I saw Nudge and Gazzy looking through the books.
“Wasn’t this great?” Nudge asked excitedly. “I can’t believe we’re in the White House! I want to be president someday.”
“I’ll be vice president,” the Gasman offered.
“You guys would be great,” I said politely. Yes, they could run on the Mutant Party ticket, with a freak-of-nature platform. No prob. I’m sure America is ready for that.
I looked around and saw Fang. The Red-Haired Wonder was hovering by him, of course, and it irked me to all get-out. How could he even stand her, with her smiles and her agreeableness? I didn’t get it. I also saw Iggy talking to a girl—she was touching some State Department silk scarves and laughing with him. I hoped she was nice. And not an Eraser.
But where was the ever-so-adorable-and-scary Angel?
&
nbsp; I surveyed the crowd. Besides our school group, there were random assorted tourists, another tour group, and . . . no Angel. Not anywhere. That little girl sure had a talent for disappearing.
“Nudge. Where’s Angel?”
Nudge looked around. “I don’t see her. Maybe the bathroom?”
I was already walking toward Fang. “Excuse me,” I said tightly, interrupting the Red-Haired Wonder’s adoration, “I don’t see An—Ariel.”
Fang scanned the crowd. The Red-Haired Wonder smiled at me.
“You’re Nick’s sister, right?”
Please, someone save me. “Uh-huh.”