"WE'LL BE OKAY," Angel said to me, as my mom's office manager climbed back into the front seat of the van. "You do what you need to do." I got the embarrassing feeling that Angel wasn't just talking about finding Hansy. Then my injured flock was driving across the bare land, and it was Dylan and me, alone, as the trail of dust kicked up by their departure gradually settled and the van disappeared from view.
Now that we were alone, I was self-conscious and cranky again. Why had I wanted to stay? If I had been programmed to want to be with Dylan and only Dylan, heads were gonna roll, I promise you that.
"So," Dylan said calmly. "I'm thinking the plane probably went down a mile or so to the southwest of here. At least, that was the direction it was heading when I left it."
"That makes sense." I nodded, relieved he wasn't trying to convince me to run off with him to find a cozy little nest for two.
"So let's do this thing," he said, and made a running takeoff that was beautiful to see. I taught him how to do that only weeks ago. It was amazing how far his skills had advanced since then. Taller and more sturdily built than Fang, Dylan soared powerfully into the sky. The sunlight glinted off his hair, and his feathers shimmered. His wings were a little shorter than Fang's but broader—more like a hawk's—wings built for power and lift. The rest of us had wings that were narrower and more angled, designed for speed. For the first time, it occurred to me that the mad scientists who created us might have used different avian DNA to make each of us.
I had never thought of that before. I had sort of assumed that they'd had one vial of avian DNA and had gone around with an eyedropper, plopping it into our test tubes. The idea that they might have paired us with birds having different characteristics amazed me. So far, none of us seemed to have flamingo as part of our makeup, or penguin. There's always something to be thankful for.
"Are you coming or what?" Dylan shouted to me. He'd been circling, waiting for me while I took a quick ride on my train of thought.
I started running, building speed, and after about thirty
feet I threw myself into the air and whipped out my wings. I pushed down with hard, even strokes, rising fast. The sun shone on my face, my tangled hair streamed behind me, and I felt a burst of pride at my strength and the sheer joy of flying.
Dylan seemed to know what I was thinking. He grinned at me, even with his bruised face and swollen, blood-caked lip, and said, "There's really nothing better."
I nodded, then thought a moment. And here's the weird part: at the exact same time, Dylan and I both said, "Except a white-chocolate mocha from Coffee Madness."
We stared at each other as our voices trailed off. This wasn't a "jinx" kind of thing, when we both said "yep" at the same time or anything like that. It was a long, weird sentence, and we had said it simultaneously.
Can you read my mind? I thought, but if he could, he was smart enough not to tell me. Instead, he frowned.
"Can you read my mind?" he asked accusingly.
Also a smart move. Offense is a strong defense.
"No!" I blurted, glaring at him.
It was weird. It was scary. And yet… I didn't leave.
