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Chapters (88)
  1. Welcome
  2. Dedication
  3. To the reader
  4. BOOK ONE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. BOOK TWO
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. BOOK THREE
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. Books by James Patterson
  88. Cover Page

“Yes,” Angel agreed. “When it’s a group decision or something that affects all of us. But you don’t when it’s something that’s just about you. You decide how you feel about Fang. You decide how you feel about Dylan. Quit letting everything else get in the way.”

I started to wonder if Angel had been injected with some fancy experimental DNA-type thing that made her sound forty years older than she actually was. And honestly, her face seemed to have lost some of its baby roundness, I noticed, as if in a dream. Her words swirled all around me, like little rays of light clearing paths through my brain.

“Be with one or the other or neither of them,” Angel concluded. “But just do it and quit whining about it.”

I almost said something, then changed my mind. I am not a whiner. I have taken quite a lot without whining. But maybe Angel had a point.

Maybe she had a lot of points.

“The Japanese have an idiom for whining that is translated as ‘vomiting up weakness,’ ” Total said helpfully.

I sat quietly for several moments, thinking, letting my mind sift through the confusion in my brain. When I finally spoke, I felt rock solid for the first time in weeks.

“We all need to fight the Doomsday Group,” I said. “So we need to coordinate our efforts. But, for the most part, it seems to be bad news when Fang and I get together. So the groups should split up, each doing our own thing. But first we’ll make a joint plan. Then we’ll carry out our separate parts.” I looked around. Nudge was nodding, Total was trying to give me a high four, and Fang gave a subtle nod: he agreed.

Dang, growing up was tough.

58

“STEP RIGHT UP and see the amazing superkids!” Fang shouted to the passersby as he shook a tambourine.

Behind him, Kate was juggling a cinder block, a locked safe, and a marble statue.

“Find something too heavy for her to lift!” Fang called. “She’ll juggle anything you bring over!”

Fang had spent the first fourteen and a half years of his existence trying hard not to stand out. He’d developed a habit of extreme stillness that allowed him to blend in with whatever his surroundings were.

So this was not coming naturally to him.

Ratchet was listening in on people’s conversations from ten yards away, then offering to “read their minds” when they came to check out the hubbub.

Star was racing around and sneaking up behind people, catching them unawares. They rubbed their eyes in disbelief.

And Holden? The fast-healing boy was breathing fire. He’d been practicing for almost an hour now and was doing pretty well, having set only two trees ablaze by accident.