Angel

22

“I THOUGHT THIS Doomsday stuff was, like, urgent,” Star said. “Who’s this girl we’re waiting for?” Star was devouring another hot dog from room service, her third, while Kate looked on, repulsed.

“And how come all we’re getting is chicks?” Ratchet asked Fang. “Not that I’m complaining.” He lifted his sunglasses to peer at Kate.

“Nobody says ‘chick’ anymore.” Kate rolled her eyes.

Ratchet grinned at her, his bright smile lighting his face. “Okay, I hear you.” He turned back to Fang. “How come all we’re getting is babes?”

“She’s just someone I know from a while ago,” Fang said in a controlled voice from behind his computer. “And there’s another guy on the way too, Ratchet. He’s the last one. They both should be here soon. For now, I guess we just chill.”

Not five minutes later, Star’s angry voice made Fang look up. She was standing over Ratchet, who was sprawled across one of the double beds. “I was watching that! You can’t just change the channel!”

“There’s a game on,” Ratchet said. “You watch your little show in the other room.”

“The TV’s broken in there,” Star snapped. “How can you even see it with those stupid sunglasses on or hear it through those headphones, anyway? Give me the remote.”

Ratchet shrugged, looking bored, and turned the volume down even lower.

“Listen, street punk,” Star snarled, her angry face close to his. “You’re a guy, and you’re a couple inches taller, and maybe forty pounds heavier, and ooh, you’re in a gang. But I’ve survived ten years of Catholic school, and I will cut you off at the knees without a blink. Do you understand?” She snatched the remote from his hand and in a millisecond was halfway down the hall.

“Your daddy pay for that attitude?” Ratchet called after her.

Everything happened fast after that. Before Fang could even ask what was going on, Star had zipped back into the room like a bullet, but Ratchet’s hypersenses had tipped him off, and he was ready for her. But before either of them could make contact, Kate had both of Star’s hands clamped in one of hers and her left knee firmly on Ratchet’s chest, pinning him hard to the floor.

“I said I don’t like violence,” she said quietly. “Maybe you two should cool off.”

Ratchet grinned up at her goofily. “Kate the Great.” He wheezed. “I think I’m in love.”

“Guys, guys,” Fang said, raising his voice until they all looked at him. “Kate’s right. Maybe you should check your egos. We’re all really different. Don’t you realize that that’s exactly why I picked you, out of everyone who applied on the blog? For example, what might defeat Ratchet might not defeat Star.”

Star smirked, and Fang cleared his throat. He hated talking so much—he’d never known that all the talking Max did was necessary, as a leader. He’d been realizing a lot of things about Max lately.

“That means that it’ll be tough for us to work together as a group, but you need to suck it up, try to get along, and treat each other with respect. If you don’t feel like you can do that, then leave now, no hard feelings.” Fang felt their surprise. He looked into each of their faces, but no one stepped forward.

“Fang’s gang,” Ratchet said from the floor. “Got it, bro.” The girls nodded in agreement.

“Okay, then. I guess we’re all straight on that,” Fang said.

“Straight on what?” Max said from behind him.

Fang’s heart almost stopped.