Fang (Maximum Ride 6) - Page 50
“I’ll call Nudge,” I decided. “She seemed kind of the least turncoaty.”
Holding my breath, I dialed Nudge’s number. If she hung up on me or told me not to call anymore, it would be very bad. I hesitated, thinking this through.
“Just hit send,” said Fang.
So I did. It rang for a long time. What were they do —
“Hello?” Nudge sounded so normal I wanted to cry.
“Hey, Nudge. It’s me.” I cleared my throat and braced myself. There was a lot of noise on her end, people talking, a TV blaring. I heard Gazzy laughing in the background. “ ‘Ssup?”
“Max!” Nudge sounded thrilled to hear from me. “Max, hi! Where are you?”
That was weird. She knew I wouldn’t say anything over the phone. “Where are you?” I asked as a test.
“LA!” she said. “We’re going to a party with celebrities!”
“Huh. um, are you okay?”
“We all had, like, stomach flu earlier. But now we’re fine. I miss you! Oops, limo’s here! Gotta go. Love you! Call ya later!” She hung up.
I looked at Fang. “They’re fine. Going to a party with celebrities in LA. Limo was there to pick them up.”
Fang looked at me. “Trap?”
I nodded. “Oh, yeah. Trap.”
62
THE LIMO PULLED to a stop outside Furioso, the hottest, most exclusive restaurant in Los Angeles. Needless to say, it wasn’t dog friendly, so the canines had stayed back at the hotel. There was a crowd of people on the sidewalk.
The flock gazed out the darkened windows of the limo. This was pretty much the farthest situation from anything that Max would have agreed to. They were surrounded, trapped in a car driven by a stranger, with tons of people taking pictures.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jeb asked.
That was enough to decide it for Angel. “Yep. It’s showtime, folks,” she said, popping her door open. The flock heard murmurs ripple through the crowd. Then people were jostling, trying to get closer, trying to see them as they spilled out of the limo.
“It’s the bird kids!” Flashes went off like a hundred tiny fireworks.
Nudge gave a big smile, posing for the cameras. “Hello,” she said, changing her angles. Dylan looked down at first but couldn’t help giving shy smiles to the adoring onlookers. Gazzy bounced up and down and waved.
“Get me out of here,” said Iggy, whose superior sensory skills normally made him comfortable weaving his way through any scene of chaos. “This is giving me the willies.”
Angel looked at him, surprised. “Everything is fine,” she said firmly. “Let’s go inside.” The crowd parted around her as if she had waved a magic wand. With her enhanced raptor vision, Angel could see everything in the smoky darkness as they weaved through the restaurant.
Their contact, a talk show host named Madeline Hammond, ran forward, her hands out.
“Kids!” she said, beaming a thousand-watt smile. “Thanks so much for coming! Hey, give us a little room, will ya?” she called to the crowd, and people edged back. “Welcome to the pre-party! Isn’t this great? The Harrells are going to play later, and Beth Duncraft and Fala Cochran are here.” Her gaze fell on Dylan just then, and she looked up into his turquoise eyes. “Oh, my goodness,” she said slowly. “Who are you?”
“I’m Dylan,” he said. “The new bird kid on the block.”
Madeline looked stunned, then recovered herself, turning to speak to the crowd. “They sure can make ’em, right, folks? Is this guy gorgeous or what?” The crowd roared its approval. Madeline smiled. “All of you are just fantastic!”
Nudge squealed with delight. She turned and posed again, waving.
“Let me introduce you to some people,” said Madeline Hammond, and for the next twenty minutes, Angel was absorbed in a blur of smiles and air kisses and shaking hands. But with every passing moment, noises seemed to grow louder, colors seemed to get brighter, and her skin felt more and more itchy and tight.
She glanced at Nudge, who was beaming up into the face of a boy currently starring in a popular sitcom. He looked about sixteen, and Angel grinned, wondering if he knew that, despite her height, Nudge was only elev — twelve.
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