“You guys know. That’s enough,” Sam said.
They started walking together toward the distant town. They walked in silence. At first, bunched together. Then Quinn moved out in front. And Edilio drifted to one side. Astrid was with Little Pete.
Sam let himself fall behind. He wanted quiet. He wanted privacy. Part of him would have liked to drift farther and farther back until he was left behind, forgotten by the others.
But he was tied to these four people now. They knew what he was. They knew his secret. And they had not turned against him.
The sound of Quinn singing “Three Little Birds” came drifting back. Sam quickened his pace to catch up with his friends.
FOURTEEN
255 HOURS, 42 MINUTES
SAM, ASTRID, QUINN, and Edilio flopped on the grass of the plaza, exhausted. Little Pete remained standing, playing his game, oblivious, as though an all-night, ten-mile walk were just a stroll. The rising sun silhouetted the mountains behind them and lit the too-calm ocean.
The grass was wet with dew that soaked straight through Sam’s shirt. He thought, I’ll never be able to sleep here. And then he was asleep.
He woke up with sun in his eyes. He blinked and sat up. The dew had burned off, and now the grass was crisping in the heat. There were a lot of kids around. But he didn’t see his friends. Maybe they had gone looking for food. He was hungry himself.
When he stood up he noticed that the crowd was moving, all in one direction, toward the church.
He joined the movement. A girl he knew walked by. He asked what was going on.
She shrugged. “I’m just following everyone else.”
Sam kept moving till the crowd began to congeal. Then he hopped up on the back of a park bench, balancing precariously but able to see over everyone’s head.
Four cars were making their way down Alameda Avenue. They drove at a stately pace, like a parade. Adding to that impression, the third car in line was a convertible with the top down. All four cars were dark, powerful, and expensive vehicles. The last car in line was a black SUV. They drove with their lights on.
“Is it someone coming to rescue us?” a fifth grader called up to Sam.
“I don’t see any police cars, so I doubt it. You might want to hang back, man.”
“Is it the aliens?”
“I think if it was aliens, we’d be seeing spaceships, not BMWs.”
The procession or parade or convoy or whatever it was drove up alongside the curb at the top of the plaza, just across the street from the town hall, and stopped.
Kids climbed out of each car. They wore black slacks and white shirts. Girls wore pleated black skirts and matching knee-high socks. Both boys and girls had on blazers in a subdued shade of red, with a large crest sewn over the heart. Boys and girls alike wore striped ties of red, black, and gold.
The crest featured ornate letters “C” and “A” in gold thread over a background that showed a golden eagle and a mountain lion. Beneath the crest was the Latin motto of Coates Academy: Ad augusta, per angusta. To high places by narrow roads.
“They’re all Coates kids.” I
t was Astrid. She and Little Pete stood with Edilio. Sam jumped down to be beside them.
“A well-rehearsed display,” Astrid said, as though reading Sam’s mind.
As the Coates kids climbed out of the cars, the crowd actually drew back a step. There had always been a rivalry between the kids in town, who thought of themselves as normal kids, and the Coates kids, who tended to be wealthy and, although the Academy tried to disguise the fact, strange.
Coates was the place your rich parents sent you when other schools found you “difficult.”
The Coates kids lined up, not quite a drill team in their order and precision, but like they had practiced it.
“Quasi-military,” Astrid said in a low, discreet voice.
Then one boy, wearing a bright yellow V-necked sweater instead of his blazer, stood up in the convertible. He grinned sheepishly and climbed nimbly from the backseat onto the trunk. He gave a little self-deprecating wave, as if to say he couldn’t believe what he was doing.