Angel

31

“MAX! THE MAXALATOR! Maxime! Maxalicious! Maxster!”

Total raced toward me as soon as I landed, wagging his tail. (Oh, just a reminder. Yes, we are living in a world where geneticists have messed with dogs too. Total’s the first talking dog I’ve ever met, though—and I hope he’s the last.)

“Total! Hi! How was your honeymoon?” I was actually glad to see him. Things had been kind of quiet without him. Relatively.

“I see Mr. Perfect’s still hanging around, eh?” he said, drawing together his pointy black Scottie ears. My face flushed as I took a step away from Dylan.

“And Angelkins!” Total licked Angel’s face when she squatted down to pet him, bracing his front paws on her lap.

“Hi, Total,” Angel said. “Whoa! Your wings are looking good!”

Total extended his wings proudly, fluttering them a little. “They are, indeed, are they not?” he agreed. “The honeymoon was fantabulous.” His eyes got a little misty. “You see before you the happiest of dogs. My Akila and I had a truly magical time. Now she’s off visiting her folks, but I missed you, one and all.” He looked at me and frowned. “And, of course, I got here just in time to see that everything took a turn for the worse when I left. Everyone looks terrible! I’m gone for a week and—”

“I’m hungry,” I said, heading toward the house. “You have any pictures from your honeymoon?”

“I have video!” Total said, happily trotting beside me.

Inside, the flock was a little… different. Besides the limbs in casts and stitched-up wings, everyone had bruises, black eyes, and assorted scrapes, but no one looked at me when I walked in.

“What’s going on?” Dylan whispered.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” said Total. “Have they been taking freak pills? Because they’re all acting strange.”

“Hey, guys,” I said, a little too loud. “Everyone okay?”

Nobody moved, not even my mom, who, of all people, I thought I could count on to lead the Max welcoming committee.

“Mom?” I said, walking over to the couch where she was resting. “How’s your arm?”

She looked at me, and I felt… empty. I mean, my mom was the person who had taught me that people really can show love through their eyes. Maybe I was imagining things, but she just seemed… different.

“It’s okay,” she said. “How are you, Max?” She sounded like she didn’t care much one way or the other.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m sorry I stayed out all night. We decided to try to spy on the Gen 77 school, and—”

“Did you find Hans’s body?” she said, interrupting me.

“No. We looked, but we ended up finding these spider-eyed ’noid kids, who—”

“That’s great, honey. Can you scoot over a bit? I’m trying to watch the news.”

Angel, Dylan, and I looked at one another, like Okayyy, then we really took in the view:

Nudge, covered in bandages, was lying quietly on the floor by herself, looking miserable.

Gazzy was sitting at a table playing with Ella’s old Legos. He was making little people. Not making houses and then exploding them, not blowing things up. Just making little people. Quietly.

Jeb was on crutches, brooding, watching Gazzy from across the room. He looked distraught. Okay, I’ll give him a pass since he’d been one breath away from pancaking.

Ella and Iggy were sitting in the kitchen, putting peanut butter and jelly on saltine crackers. Ella was chatting up a storm, and Ig was nodding enthusiastically at her like a bobblehead doll, an idiotic grin on his face. Neither of them even acknowledged my presence.

My heart seized with sudden understanding: the flock was majorly peeved at me for ditching them in the desert.

Dylan sensed that I was on edge and stepped closer to support me. I was freaking out. It would’ve been so nice just to lean into his warmth…

Instead, I shot him a look that said “I will break your fingers like a nutcracker if you touch me right now” and turned to Angel.

“Ange? Powwow. Stat.” I said.

She nodded. I felt a pang of regret when I saw Dylan’s hurt face as Angel and I walked out onto the deck, but the flock was my first priority, regardless of those fluttery feelings I kept having that were severely cramping my style.

“Oh, my God,” I said as soon as we were outside. “Why didn’t you warn me? Is it just me? They’re totally giving me the cold shoulder, aren’t they? Are they trying to punish me?”

Angel shook her head. “Don’t worry, Max. They’ll get over it. They’re mostly just exhausted and in shock from everything. Something happened between Gazzy and Jeb out there, and I think Gazzy’s still reeling, but he’s okay.”

“But even my mom…”

Angel cocked her head as if she knew something I didn’t. “Yeah, something’s kind of up with your mom.” I tensed, but Angel continued. “I’m way more worried about Ella and Iggy, though.”

“Yeah,” I huffed. “Could they be any more annoying with all that puppy-eyed sappiness? It’s like a barfwich in there.”

“No, it’s more than that,” Angel said. “But I can’t quite put my finger on it. It’s just—I can always dip into their minds. Not that I do, of course,” she added quickly.

“No, of course not,” I said.

“They just don’t feel like themselves. I mean, they haven’t been replaced with clever replicas or bots. It’s definitely them. But they’re a little—off.” She frowned.

“Okay,” I said, “Let’s find out what the deal is with the Stepford Flock.”