by Amy Ignatow
Stay tuned for more, because I have yet to investigate why dozens of pet dogs in Muellersville all disappeared for several hours last night. STRANGE THINGS ARE AMOK.
Ever questioning,
The Hammer
Farshad went straight to the lunch table he’d been sitting at for the past week. It was starting to feel normal; he saw his friends, he went to the table, he sat down, and ate his lunch while everyone chatted. Well, mostly Nick, Jay, and Cookie chatted, although he and Martina would occasionally add something to the conversation. He always appreciated it when Martina had something to say, because he could never guess what it was going to be.
They hadn’t even discussed sitting at the same lunch table, but it seemed only natural that they would, and it definitely beat eating lunch alone while staring at a book to keep from calling attention to himself. He just felt safer around his friends. Seeing them made him feel . . . actually kind of happy. It was really nice to look forward to seeing them. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Jay was talking as he sat down; that was normal. Jay was talking about what had happened at Auxano; also normal, although Nick promised that he had another week, tops, before he would move on to another subject. Farshad didn’t mind. They had been through a lot, and talking about it made him feel like he wasn’t alone.
Jay seemed to be back to his old self. After Nick had transported them all to his aunts’ house they had crashed. No talking, no discussion, just quick texts and calls home to the parents and then they were out like lights. In the morning they woke to find Nick’s very confused and bleary-eyed mom looking down at them.
“Hey . . . kids,” she said, looking at the nest they’d hastily made out of sofas and cushions and throws. “The emergency has been lifted. Does anyone need a ride home?”
Afterward Jay seemed to not want to talk about his experiences with the spray, although he did make Farshad quiz him on their Advanced Sequential Math work. He’d done fine. He also didn’t want to talk about whatever uncomfortable conversation he’d had with his parents when he got home (apparently Nick and Cookie had abandoned Jay’s mom in Nick’s slightly burnt-out old house. Oh, and Jay himself had run around shirtless sabotaging their life’s work, so they’d grounded him for a month).
“They’re pretty furious,” Jay had told them on his first day back at school, “but they also seem kind of embarrassed by what they did, and they’re paying way more attention to me than they used to, which is actually kind of nice. I think they think I’m going to go into the family business with them and create more chemical formulas to give people superpowers.”
“What did you tell them?” Cookie asked.
“Nothing, because I’m going to be the head of an international super-secret crime-fighting agency that employs people with superpowers. Pity you all lost yours when I sprayed Mr. Friend. You were going to be my first recruits.” He sighed. “I was going to get an eyepatch.”
Should we tell him now? Cookie had thought at him.
Farshad had just smiled and given her a little head shake.
They’d maintained their powers. Cookie theorized that having their faces covered by their sweatshirts had protected them from the spray; Farshad believed that it had dissipated faster once they reached the open air. “Let’s not tell Jay immediately,” Nick had said to them. “We’ll surprise him with it later.”
Farshad’s own homecoming had been unsurprisingly awkward. He’d told his parents that he’d spent the night at Nick’s, which was technically mostly true. Then he’d had Nick over to study and corroborate his story. He was pretty sure his parents didn’t totally believe him, but also got the impression that they were so happy for actual evidence of his having friends that they were willing to overlook a lot (like a busted phone and a broken laptop).
“I talked to Paul,” Jay was telling them, “he said that they found Gertie! She was in a field, just eating corn. The Amish farmer who found her was not happy about it.”
“Is she still . . . you know,” Cookie asked. She was always more cautious when they talked about what had happened, which seemed pretty smart. There was a lot more going on in her head than she ever let on, although Farshad was now aware of when those brain gears were turning. He didn’t always know what she was thinking, but he knew that she was thinking. He liked it.
“Paul said that Gertie was as quiet as a little mouse. Well, a mouse that goes ‘maah’ a lot.”
“If we could find Abe, we might be able to figure out what Gertie was thinking,” Nick offered. Abe, Beanie, and Rebecca had disappeared after the night at Auxano. Nick had been by Beanie and Rebecca’s apartment but it was empty. They had just packed up and gone. Back to their parents’ homes in Amish country? No one knew.
Cookie had a theory that they went to Philadelphia to start new lives, maybe with Sadie and Jesse, the two other Amish kids who had been trapped at Auxano with them. “I thought they’d just go back to their families,” Farshad had said, even though they still had their powers. That had seemed to be all that Rebecca had wanted. Maybe they could have lied to get back in.
“Would you want to go back to live with your family after they rejected you?” Cookie had asked. Farshad didn’t know. One day he was going to have to have a sit-down with his parents and really talk things out. But he wasn’t ready, and didn’t think they were, either.
But he was okay with taking his time, because for the first time in a long time he wasn’t in a hurry to do anything. Sure, he had this big secret, but it felt really good to have friends who shared his secret with him. It also, he had to admit to himself, felt really good to have friends.
Ms. Zelle hadn’t been back to school since the night of the Sabotage Squad, which kind of made Farshad a little sad. She’d actually been a good teacher. But turning kids into drooling animal zombies wasn’t cool. The substitute science teacher always smelled like hard-boiled eggs, which was kind of a bummer.
The Company Kids had taken a while to get back to school—Addison still hadn’t returned, and there was a rumor that she’d be going to a private school soon. The Company Kids who did come back all sat with each other and didn’t talk to anyone else. Farshad couldn’t blame them; they’d been through a lot. Cookie said that their thoughts were very jumbled and confused—they didn’t totally remember what had happened and they didn’t really want to, either. Cookie still became overwhelmed by thoughts that weren’t hers, but she was getting better at handling them. Farshad noticed that Martina always seemed to know when Cookie was struggling and would find ways to get her to the Understeps or some other safe space. Even now he wasn’t totally sure what Martina’s power was, exactly, but she seemed to be more at peace with it than any of the rest of them. Just yesterday Nick had accidentally transported himself back to his house when he realized he’d forgotten his lunch.
“I’ve got pictures! Does anyone want to see pictures?” Nick whipped out his newly acquired cell phone to show them photos of his very new cousin.
“Squishface!” Cookie said, happily snatching the phone. Nick’s cousin had an actual name, but Cookie had decided that she looked like a Squishface and the name had stuck. Ah well. Better than Terror Baby.
They all crowded around the phone to get a better look, and Farshad felt a little weird. Why should he care about some squishy little baby that was in no way related to him?
And then he looked at Nick’s beaming face, and realized that he cared because his friend cared. And it felt pretty good. “Can I see?” he asked, reaching for the phone.
“Sure, but don’t you dare break my phone,” Nick warned.
“Wait, why would he break your phone?” Jay asked.
“Uh . . .”
Jay’s eyes lit up. “No. NO. NO WAY.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Put down that phone, Nicholas, you old shoe.
“We have work to do.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Odds Series could never have come into being without the incredible wo
rk and support of the people at Abrams: Andrew Smith, Chad Beckerman, Pam Notarantonio, and my wonderful fairy editmother, Maggie Lehrman. Enormous thanks, as always, are due to Torie Doherty-Monroe at Writers House, and to the best agent in the entire universe, Dan Lazar, without whom I might still be a marginally employed face-and-body painter.
Thank you so much to my incredible partner Mark, and to our kids, Anya and Ezra, who, while not particularly helpful with the writing or illustrating, are amazing at making me laugh.
AMY IGNATOW
is the author and illustrator of the Popularity Papers series, the Odds Series, and many, many to-do lists. She lives in Philadelphia with her family.
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