Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports

26

"So, you have your price," I said to Fang, speaking around a mouthful of crumbs. "Your soul for a cookie."

Making sure Dr. Martinez wasn't looking, Fang shot me the bird and took another bite, clearly savoring the warm chewiness, the notes of vanilla, the semimelted chocolate chunks. I grinned at him, then stuck out my tongue.

Dr. Martinez sat down at the table with us and dipped a cookie into her mug of coffee. She patted my arm. "I'm really glad to see you again, Max," she said, with so much sincerity that I blushed. "You know, there have been reports about mutant flying children in the news lately."

I nodded. "Yeah. We keep forgetting the 'lie low and hide' part of our plan."

"Do you have a plan?" she asked, concern on her face. "What are you doing now? Are there more of you?"

Just like that, my natural instincts for secrecy and self-protection kicked in, and I felt my face shut down. Next to me, Fang stiffened in midchew.

Dr. Martinez had no problem reading my expression.

"Never mind," she said quickly. "Forget I asked. I just...wish I could help in some way."

Dr. Martinez was a veterinarian, and she'd treated me for a gunshot wound at her clinic. She was the one who'd discovered, when she did an X-ray, the microchip in my arm.

"Maybe you can," I said. "Remember my chip?"

"The one in your arm?" Dr. Martinez frowned. "Do you still have it?"

"Yeah. And I still want it out."

She finished her cookie and drank some coffee, thinking it through. "Since you left, I've examined your X-ray a hundred times." She smiled. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again, but it drove me crazy-I had to figure it out. I've looked and looked at it, trying to see if there's any way to take out the chip without damaging your nerves so badly that you'd lose the use of your hand."

"Did you come up with something?" I was practically quivering with anticipation.

Her shoulders sagged slightly. "I'm not positive. It seems like I could possibly do it with microsurgery, but..."

"Do it," I said quickly. "Do it now."

I felt Fang looking at me, but I stayed focused on Dr. Martinez.

"I want this chip out," I said, hating the pleading sound in my voice. "I don't care what it does."

You can't risk losing the use of your hand, said the Voice.

For some reason I was finding it particularly annoying today. Why? I thought, sarcasm dripping. You think I can't save the world with one hand tied behind my back?

Dr. Martinez looked hesitant, too cautious to take risks.

Suddenly Fang grabbed my left hand and turned it over, baring my forearm on the table. The angry red scars from when I had sawed at my arm with a broken seashell flamed up at us, puckered and ugly. Heat flushed my face, and I tried to pull my arm away.

"Oh, that," I muttered, aware of Dr. Martinez's wide, horrified eyes.

"She tried to cut it out herself," Fang said tersely. "Almost bled out, on a beach. Take it out, so she won't be such a moron again. Or at least not in that same way. Maybe in a different way," he acknowledged realistically.

I frowned fiercely at him, hating the look of consternation on Dr. Martinez's face. Then I glared at her, daring her to express pity. I swear, I would knock their two heads together if-

"I can try," she said.