Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment

Her sweet face shut down, and I put my arm around her shoulders briefly. “I know you’re worried,” I said softly. “I am too.”

She smiled at me, and then I saw it: 433 East Thirty-first Street.

It was the building from the drawing in my brain.

And if you don’t think that’s a weird sentence, maybe you should reread it.

The building rose tall, maybe forty-five stories, and had a greenish facade, kind of old-fashioned looking.

“Is this it?” Iggy asked.

“Yep,” I said. “Are we ready?”

“Aye, Captain!” Iggy said firmly, and saluted.

I so wished he could see me roll my eyes at him.

We marched up the steps and pushed through revolving doors. Inside, the lobby was all polished wood, brass, and big tropical plants. The floor was smooth granite tiles.

“Here,” said Fang softly, pointing to a large display board behind glass. It listed all the offices and companies in the building, and their floors and room numbers.

There was no Institute for Higher Living. There was no institute of any kind.

Because that would have been too easy, right?

I rubbed my forehead, holding back bitter words of disappointment. Inside, I felt like crying and yelling and stomping around, and then getting into a hot shower and crying some more.

Instead, I took a deep breath and tried to think. I looked around. No other office lists anywhere.

At the reception desk, a woman sat behind a laptop computer. A security guard had another desk across the lobby.

“Excuse me,” I said politely. “Are there any other companies in this building that aren’t on the board?”

“No.” The receptionist looked us over, then went back to typing something incredibly urgent-like her resume for another job. We turned away just as the receptionist made a sound of surprise. Glancing back, I saw that her computer screen had cleared. The pit of my stomach started to hurt.

There’s a pot of gold beneath every rainbow, filled her laptop screen in big red letters. The message broke up into smaller letters that then scrolled across the screen over and over, filling it.

Pot of gold beneath every rainbow… Okay, did leprechauns work here? Was Judy Garland going to burst into song? Why couldn’t I just get some straight information? Because it was a puzzle, a test. I literally gnashed my teeth. Beneath every… Hmm.

“Does this building have a basement?” I asked.

The receptionist frowned at me and looked us over again with a harder gaze.

“Who are you?” she asked. “What do you want?” She lifted her chin and caught the eye of the security guard. Were they Erasers? They definitely could be Erasers. This whole building might be full of despicable wolf men.

“Never mind,” I muttered, pushing the others toward the revolving doors. The security guard was already on our tails, and just as we all got through, I jammed a ballpoint pen into the door cha

On the street, we hit the ground ru

102

My lungs were burning. Know the feeling? About six blocks later, we slowed to a walk. No one seemed to be following us, no cop cars had emerged from the traffic, no sign of Erasers. My head was pounding and it hurt like crazy. I felt like I needed a time-out from life.

With no warning, the Gasman turned and punched a mailbox. “This sucks!” he yelled. “Nothing ever goes right! We get hassled everywhere! Max’s head is busted, Angel lost Celeste, we’re all hungry-I hate this! I hate everything!”

Stu

Crap.

The flock was watching me, waiting for me to tell the Gasman to snap out of it, get it together. Stepping forward, I wrapped my arms around Gazzy, surrounding him. I rested my head against his and just held him tight. I smoothed his light hair with my fingers and felt his narrow back shaking.

“I’m sorry, Gazzy,” I murmured. “You’re right. This has really sucked. I know it’s hard sometimes. Listen, what would make you feel better right now?” I swear, if he’d said, Check into the Ritz, I would have done it.

He sniffled and straightened a bit, wiping his face on his grubby sleeve. I resolved to get us new clothes soon. ‘Cause I was Ms. Bank Card.

“Really?” he said, sounding very small and young.

“Really.”

“Well, I just want-I just want to, like, sit down somewhere and eat a lot of food. Not just get food while we’re walking. I want to sit down and rest and eat.”

I looked solemnly into his eyes. “I think that can be arranged.”

103

We ended up back near Central Park, searching for a place to eat. A diner on Fifty-seventh Street looked good, but there was a half-hour wait. Then, off the street inside the park, we saw a restaurant. Millions of tiny blue lights covered the oak trees that surrounded it. The sign said, Parking for Garden Tavern, This Way. Plunked among the trees was a huge building with tons of plate glass windows overlooking the park.

Gazzy said excitedly. “This looks great!”

It was also the last place on earth I wanted us to go. Too big, too flashy, too expensive, and no doubt full of trendy grown-ups. We were not going to blend. We would not be inconspicuous.

And yet, the Gasman wanted to eat here. And I had promised him pretty much anything he wanted.

“Uh, okay,” I said, already feeling dread and anxiety seeping from my pores. Fang pulled open the heavy glass door, and we stepped inside.

“Whoa,” Nudge said, her eyes wide.

From the reception area, we could see three different dining rooms. There was the Prism Room, which was dripping with crystals, basically: chandeliers, candelabras, faceted windows. Door number two led to the Garden Room, which was like a lush, overgrown rainforest, but with tables, chairs, and waiters. The third one was the Castle Room, for those of us who needed to feel regal while we chowed. They all had soaring ceilings with rafters. The Castle Room had an open fireplace big enough to roast a steer.

I was glad to see we weren’t the only kids-though we were the only ones without a grown-up.

“May I help you?” A tall, blond, modelly woman glanced at us, then looked to see who we were with. “Are you waiting for your parents?”

“No,” I said. “There’s just us.” I smiled. “Can we have a table for six, please? I’m treating everybody with my birthday money.” Another lie, another smile.

“Um, okay,” said the hostess. She led us to a table in the Castle Room, way back by the kitchen. Since the kitchen would be a useful escape route, if necessary, I didn’t quibble.

She passed out large, very fancy menus as we scrambled into our seats. “Jason will be your server today.” With one last, uncertain glance, she left us.

“Max, this is so, so great,” Nudge said excitedly, clutching her enormous menu. “This is the nicest place we’ve ever eaten!”

Since we’ve Dumpster-dived for lunch on many occasions, this was an understatement. Fang, Iggy, and I were miserable. Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel were ecstatic.

Actually, the Castle Room would have been neat, if I didn’t hate crowds, sticking out, grown-ups, feeling paranoid, and spending money.

On to the menu. I was relieved to see that they had a kids’ section.

“Are you waiting for your parents?” A short, stocky waiter with slicked-back red hair-Jason-was standing next to Iggy.

“No, there’s just us,” I said.

He frowned slightly and gave us a once-over. “Ah. Are you ready to order?”

“Anyone know what they want?” I asked.