Nevermore: The Final Maximum Ride Adventure (Maximum Ride 8)

I stood up, mortified, but also angry. It had been hard enough to take the leap to kiss Dylan without having the entire world know about it. “Were you spying on me? On us?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“I’m not the only one!” she protested sheepishly. “It’s not what you think! Look, hold on.” Nudge ducked outside for a moment and called out, “Gazzy! Ig! Get in here—the jig is up!”

“ ‘The jig is up’?” I repeated. “Gazzy? Iggy?” Dylan came to stand next to me, his hand warm on my back. I suppressed the memory of what we had been doing a minute earlier, and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Way to be a traitor, Nudge,” I heard Gazzy say. Then both he and Iggy (who was still wearing his bow tie) entered the tree house behind Nudge.

The three of them stood there, fidgeting and looking anywhere but at me and Dylan.

I went for the classic interrogation technique: Hit the weakest link first. Nudge had never been good at lying to me. “Nudge,” I said, pointing, “explain what’s going on. I thought you guys were at home. Obviously.”

She squirmed.

“Nudge,” I pressed. Leader Max was back in business. Romancey Max had been squashed for the time being.

“Um,” she said, moving her hands out from behind her back. She was holding some sort of box-type thing, silver and black….

A video camera. A freaking video camera.

I gaped. I felt like my face had spontaneously burst into flames at the same time as my legs had melted into a puddle. “Were you filming us?”

Nudge nodded uncomfortably.

I strode forward to plant myself right in front of the three conniving little thugs, nearly hissing in rage. “Why on earth would you film that?”

“YouTube?” Iggy suggested totally unhelpfully, and I had to actually mentally count to ten to restrain myself.

“I’m s’posed to record everything,” Nudge mumbled.

“What? Why? What are you talking about?”

She didn’t answer. I rounded on Iggy and the Gasman. “And you! What were you two doing?”

“Sitting in the trees outside,” Gazzy replied in a small voice. Good to know I hadn’t completely lost my touch. “Making sure.”

“Making. Sure. Of. What.”

“Um… that you were safe?” he squeaked.

I made a half-shrieking, half-choking sound. “Since when can I not take care of myself? I was with Dylan, for Pete’s sake! We were”—I faltered slightly but kept on truckin’—“eating dinner! What were you three thinking?”

They all remained silent.

“I can’t believe you,” I spat. “Give me the video camera, Nudge.”

Nudge didn’t move.

“Nudge. Camera. Now.”

“I can’t!” she cried, putting it behind her back again. “It’s my job! I have to!”

That was when I really lost it. I snarled and, without thinking, shot out my foot in a sideways kick. Luckily, I didn’t kick Dylan, Iggy, Gazzy, or Nudge. Unluckily, I kicked the table.

Which had candles on it.

It all happened before I could even blink.

The tall tapers fell sideways, and hot wax ran across the table and onto the floor.