Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports

80

Here's the weird thing: We hadn't seen hide nor hair of an Eraser or a whitecoat or a Flyboy chasing us since we'd split from Fang and the others. We still had me, Angel, Total, Ari-all of the "if" factors that could possibly be tracked. And yet the last several days had been one grande vacance, as we say here in gay Paree.

So what was different? Just that Fang, Gazzy, and Iggy weren't here. It was crazy. I wondered what they were doing, if they were, like, on a beach or partying somewhere or whatever. Completely forgetting about us. Not missing us.

Part of me was dying to find an Internet caf #233; and at least read Fang's latest blog entry. Maybe I could get some idea of where they were and what they were doing. But the bigger, self-righteous part of me refused to acknowledge my burning curiosity.

"OMG!" Nudge squealed, putting a filmy, arty scarf around her neck. "This is fabulous!"

And so suitable for an Eraser to grab and yank, thus breaking your neck, I struggled not to say. Instead I nodded unenthusiastically, hoping she would read between the lines.

"This is what I'm talking about," Total said happily. He leaned his front paws on the marble table and pulled his chocolate pastry toward him. "I'm sitting here, I'm eating, and Angel didn't have to control anyone's mind. This is civilization."

Dogs are allowed in most restaurants in Paris, in case you haven't picked up on that. We were sitting at a tiny marble-topped table outside a caf #233;. People streamed past us, not turning into Erasers or whatever would come after Erasers.

"It is really neat," Nudge said, looping her scarf around her neck so it wouldn't dip into her coffee. "How many of these can I have?" She was on her third pastry.

I shrugged. "However many you can eat without barfing." Okay, as a mom I'm unconventional, I admit. Especially since I'm only fourteen and didn't actually give birth to any of these guys.

"I wish-," Angel began, then stopped. She pulled her caf #233; au lait over and took a sip.

I wish everyone was here with us, I heard in my mind, and it wasn't the Voice. I nodded at Angel. Me too, I thought back.

"What are we going to do after this?" Nudge asked. "How about the Loovra?"

I shook my head. "Too enclosed, too much security, too many people. There isn't enough Valium in the world to get me in there."

"The Eiffel Tower is open, and high," said Angel.

I nodded. "It's a possibility." I checked my watch. "You guys have four hours, then we have to bug out of here."

Nudge snapped me a salute. "Jawohl!"

Total started choking with laughter, and Ari and Angel both grinned.

Everyone knows what the Eiffel Tower looks like. But in person, it's so much bigger-all this lacy steel and iron swooping up and up into the sky. It was so tempting to just fly to the top, but instead we waited in an endless line and took a crowded elevator to the top. And you know how much I like being packed into small spaces with other people!

But once we were at the top, the view was magnificent. Right below us was the Seine River, with its houseboats and tour boats. From up there we could see everything, all the major landmarks, like the Arc de Triomphe and the Louvre museum. Paris stretched as far as we could see.

I had to admit, Paris was really beautiful. The buildings all seemed so old and fancy and really pretty in a non-American kind of way. I wished the guys could see it. I hope you guys can see it some day too, if it's still standing after the whitecoats try to destroy the world.

Of course Nudge made us shop. At least street stands weren't as claustrophobia inducing as enclosed stores. All along the Seine were little stalls selling books and flowers, and I felt as if we were in a movie with subtitles. I waited with saintly patience as Nudge and Angel sorted through T-shirts and hats and books in French that we couldn't carry, much less read.

Ari tried on a leather jacket-his old one was shredded and bloodstained. The stall vendor looked at Ari warily, then Angel distracted him and he didn't seem to notice Ari anymore.

"It's you," I said, watching him shrug it on. "Is it comfortable?"

He grimaced. "Nothing's comfortable when you're built like this." He gestured to his hulking, overdeveloped muscles, the lumpy wings that didn't fold in perfectly, neatly, like ours.

I stepped behind him to smooth out the collar, and that's when I saw it again: the expiration date on the back of his neck. His time was coming, very, very soon.

You know what? I was glad I'd shown him Paris.