“But they were in a chopper,” said the Gasman. “They’re way gone. They could be anywhere.” His lower lip trembled, and he clenched his jaw. “Like, China or something.”

I went over and ruffled his already ruffled blond hair. “I don’t think they took her to China, Gazzy.”

“We know where they took her.” Fang’s calm words fell like stones. He scraped the bottom of the can with his fork.

“Where’s that?” Iggy asked, raising his head, his blind eyes bloodshot with unshed tears.

“The School,” Fang and I said at the same time.

Well, as you can imagine, that went over like a ton of freaking bricks.

Nudge gasped, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

The Gasman looked scared, then tried to wipe it off his face.

Iggy’s spine tightened, his face like ice. When he’d been at the School, they’d tried to surgically enhance his night vision. Now he was blind forever. Oops.

“They took Angel back to the School?” the Gasman asked, confused.

“I think so,” I said, trying to sound together and lead-erly. As if I weren’t screaming with panic inside.

“Why?” Nudge whispered. “After four years, I thought maybe they had forgotten-”

“They want us back,” said Fang.

We’d never really talked about this. It was like, out of sight, out of mind. Actually, more like, let’s all try to forget when we were at the mercy of sadistic spawns of Satan in a place that’s a total, hellish abomination and ought to be firebombed. Yeah, more like that.

“They’ll never forget about us. Jeb wasn’t supposed to take us out of there,” I reminded the Gasman.

“Jeb knew they would do anything to get us back. If anyone ever discovered what they did to us, it would be the end of the School,” Fang explained.

“Why don’t we tell on them, then?” Nudge demanded. “We could go to a TV station and tell everyone and say, Look, they grew wings on us, and we’re just little kids, and-”

“Okay, that would fix them,” Iggy interrupted. “But we’d end up in a zoo.”

“Well, what are we gonna do, then?” The Gasman was starting to sound panicky.

Fang had gotten up and left the room, and now he returned, holding a sheaf of yellowed, fading papers. The edges looked nibbled, and he shook some mouse poop off.

“Eew,” said Nudge, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Eew. Was that-”

“Here,” said Fang, pushing the papers at me.

They were Jeb’s ancient printed-out files. After he disappeared, we’d cleared off his desk and shoved everything in the back of a closet so we wouldn’t have to look at it all the time.

We spread the papers out on the kitchen table. Just looking at them made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Not to mention the strong eau de mouse. I’d rather have been doing anything but.

Fang started to sift through the pile. He found a large manila envelope, sealed with a clump of wax. After looking at me, catching my nod, he popped the wax with his thumbnail.

“What is that?” asked the Gasman.

“Map,” Fang said, pulling out a faded topographical drawing.

“Map of what?” Nudge leaned closer, peering over Fang’s shoulder.

“Map of a secret facility,” I said, feeling my stomach clench. I’d hoped I’d never have to see it again, never break that wax seal. “In California. The School.”

“Whaaat?” the Gasman squeaked.

Iggy went even paler than normal, if possible.

“That’s where they took Angel,” I said. “And that’s where we have to go to get her back.”

“Oh,” said Nudge, her brain hitting overdrive. “Yeah. We have to go get Angel back. We can’t let her stay there-with them. They’re-monsters. They’re going to do bad things to her. And put her in a cage. Hurt her. But there’s five of us. So the rest of us have to go get hmph- ”

I had wrapped my hand across her mouth. She peeled my fingers apart. “Uh, how far is it?”

“Six hundred miles, more or less,” Fang said. “At least a seven-hour flight, not including breaks.”

“Can we discuss this?” Iggy asked, not turning his head. “We’re way outnumbered.”

“No.” I scanned the map, already working out routes, rest stops, backup plans.

“Can we take a vote? They had guns. And a chopper.” There was an edge in Iggy’s voice.

“Iggy. This is not a democracy,” I said, understanding his fear but unable to do anything about it. “It’s a Maxocracy. You know we have to go after Angel. You can’t be thinking that we would just let them take her. The six of us look out for one another-no matter what. None of us is ever going to live in a cage again, not while I’m alive.” I took a deep breath.

“But actually, Nudge, Fang, and I are going after Angel. You and the Gasman-I need you to stay here. Hold down the fort. On the off chance Angel escapes and makes her way home.”

There was a moment of dead silence.

“You are so full of it,” said Iggy, turning toward me. “That’s not why you want us here. Why don’t you just say it?”

Tension was making my stomach hurt. I didn’t have time for this. No-Angel didn’t have time for this.

“Okay,” I said, trying for a placating tone. “It’s true. I don’t want you to come. The fact is, you’re blind, and while you’re a great flyer around here where you know everything, I can’t be worrying about you in the middle of a firefight with the Erasers.”

Iggy’s face twisted in anger. He opened his mouth but got cut off.

“What about me?” the Gasman squealed. “I don’t care if they have guns and a chopper and Erasers. She’s my sister.”

“That’s right. And if they want her so bad, they might want you just as bad,” I pointed out. “Plus, you’re a great flyer, but you’re eight years old, and we’re going to be logging major hours.”

“Jeb would never have made us stay,” Iggy said angrily. “Never. Ever.”

I pressed my lips together. I was doing the best I could. “Maybe not,” I admitted. “We’ll never know. Jeb’s dead. Now everyone get your gear together.”

“We clear on Plan B?” I asked, raising my voice so Fang and Nudge could hear me over the roar of the wind.

We were headed into the sun, south-southwest. Leaving the Sangre de Cristo Mountains behind, streaking through the sky at a steady ninety miles per hour. If we hit a nice air current, we could add twenty miles per hour to our speed. The glory of flight.

Fang nodded. God, is he ever the strong and silent type.

“Uh-huh,” said Nudge. “If we get separated somehow-though I don’t see how we could, unless maybe one of us gets lost in a cloud or something-do you think that could happen? I haven’t ever been inside a cloud. I bet it’s creepy. Can you see anything inside a cloud-”

I shot her a look. She paused, then quickly finished, “We meet up at the northmost point of Lake Mead.”

I nodded. “And where’s the School?”

“In Death Valley, eight miles due north from the Bad-water Basin.” Her mouth opened to add more, but I raised my eyebrows at her. I love Nudge, Nudge is a great kid, but that motormouth of hers could have turned Mother Teresa into an ax murderer.

“You got it,” I said. “Good job.” Did you hear that address? Could the School be located in a more perfect place? Death Valley . Above the Badwater Basin . Like, when we got there, we’d see a road paved with good intentions and have to cross the river Styx to get in. Wouldn’t surprise me.

The wind was undoing my braid, and chunks of long hair whipped annoyingly across my face. Note to self: Cut hair short.

The Gasman and Iggy had been none-too-happy campers when we’d left, but I thought I’d made the right decision. That was the problem with this leader stuff. It didn’t come with an instruction manual. Given what Angel was facing, their being unhappy was the least of my concerns.