The steward put the drink on the little table between me and Nudge.

“Thank you,” Nudge said. The steward headed back to the galley, and Nudge reached for the can.

When her hand was still a couple of inches away, the can slid toward her fingers, and she grabbed it.

Instantly we looked at each other.

“The plane tilted,” she said.

“Yeah, of course,” I agreed. “But… just to see, just for our own amusement, let’s…” I took the can away from her and put it back on the table. I reached for it. It stayed put.

Nudge reached for it.

It slid toward her.

Our eyes wide, we stared at each other.

“The plane tilted again,” Nudge said.

“Hm,” I said. I took the can away and had her come at it from a different angle. The can slid toward her.

“I’mmagnetic, ” she whispered, half awed and half horrified.

“I hope you don’t start sticking to fridges and stuff,” I said in disbelief.

Fang dropped down next to me, and the Gasman joined us, squishing in next to Nudge.

“What’s going on?” Fang asked.

“I’m Magnet Girl!” Nudge said, already coming to terms with her new skill.

Eyebrows raised, Fang picked up a metal pen and held it against Nudge’s arm. He let go, and it dropped to the floor.

Nudge frowned. Then she reached down for the pen, and it flew into her hand from a few inches away.

Gazzygave a low whistle. “You’rekind of magnetic. Cool!”

“No, that’s not it,” said Fang quietly. “It’s that you canattract metal- maybe only when you want to.”

Well. The rest of the flight zipped by as we played with Nudge’s bizarre newfound ability. When we got close to DC,Jeb came over to give us a ten-minute heads-up. One glance at our faces and his eyes narrowed.

“What’s going on?” It was the same dad-like, no-nonsense tone that he had used years ago, when it was just us and him in our secret house in the Colorado mountains. He’d made that exact face the day he found the frogs in the toilet. I remembered it so clearly, but it seemed like three lifetimes ago.

Before I could say, “Nothing,” Nudge blurted, “I can make metal come to me!”

Jebsat down, and Nudge demonstrated.

“I don’t know why you can do that,” he said slowly. “As far as I know, it was never programmed in.” He looked around at all of us. “It’s possible… It’s possible that maybe you guys are starting to mutate on your own.”

You are reading Fang’sBlog. Welcome!

You are visitor number: 4,792

Whatever the tally counter at the top tells you, your number is actually way higher than that. Our counter thing broke, and we finally got it working again. But it started again at zero. Anyway, thanks for checking in.

We’re all okay, but we just buried a friend. I know some of you out there have lost someone close to you, and now I get a little bit of what it’s like. The guy who died- I knew him for a long time, but not that well, and for the past six months, I’ve hated his guts. Then I suddenly didn’t. Then he died.

For me what was harder than losing him was watching what it did to people around me. The one thing I really can’t stand is when Max and the others are in pain or upset. Not upset like in angry or teed off, ’cause God knows if that got to me I’d be totally out of luck. But upset like in crying, sadness, regret- all that stuff. I hate it. It kills me. I know what it takes to make these kids cry, to make Max cry, and I hate that they had to go through that.

But enough of all thatemo stuff. The end result is: We’re all good. We’re all alive. I’m glad about that, about the six of us. They’re who matter to me. Even when Max is being a pigheaded, stubborn idiot dictator, she’s still the one I want by my side. Though I can feel myself getting ulcers and gray hairs from dealing with her.

Anyway! We’re on our way to a hush-hush meeting with some top-secret bigwigs, ooh. Yep, fighting to the death one day, drinking frosty little drinks on a private jet the next. It’s enough to make anyoneschizo.

I don’t have too much else to say right now, so I’ll answer some questions that you guys have sent in.

Dylan from Omaha writes:

Its so cool that you guys can fly. Do you have any other super-powers?

Well, Dylan, yes we do.Iggy is a crack accountant, as long as someone reads him the numbers. AndGazzy can whip up a lemon meringue pie like nobody’s business.

No, seriously, we may have a couple tricks up our wings, but we’re notgonna tell you or anyone else. The more that people know about us, the more ways they can think up to mess with us.Capiche? Nothing personal.

– Fang

Sweetmarie420 from Gainesville writes:

When youguyz grow up, will you layeggz or havebabeez?

With any luck at all, I won’t do either. Not sure about Max, Nudge, and Angel. Don’twanna find out anytime soon.

– Fang

Zerolandfrom Tupelo writes:

I wishida been there at your big battle, man. Itwoulda been so awesome!!!!

Kid, you need another definition for awesome. You don’t want to be anywhere near one of our battles.I don’t even want to be near our battles. Unfortunately, the evil idiots usually don’t give me a choice.

– Fang

MelysaBfrom Boulder writes:

I know you have to hide out sometimes. I’m a guide in the Colorado mountains around Boulder, and I could help you find some good hiding places.

Thanks,MelysaB. We love the Colorado mountains. And we’re nevergonna take you up on your offer. If you’re one of Them, then this is a trap. If you’re not one of Them, then doing anything for us puts you in danger. But thanks anyway.

– Fang

Okay,gotta go. Peace out.

– Fang

IT HAD BEEN only a few days since I’d seen Dr. Martinez-aka Mom- but it was great seeing her again.

Ella, my half sister, was back home in Arizona, but Mom had come to DC to be with us at our big meeting. We hugged for a long time, then she hugged the rest of the flock, who ate it up. Total coughed meaningfully at her feet, and she leaned down and hugged him too.

Mom andJeb took us to a safe house where we could rest up before the meeting. To us, the wordssafe house have about as much meaning asjumbo shrimp. No house would ever feel safe enough. Maybe if it were on Mars, and we could see rockets coming from thousands of miles away…

After a fabulous hot shower, I got into clean clothes and untangled my hair. It was getting longer, after being cut pretty short in New York, months ago. I looked at myself in the mirror and, bonus, didn’t see an Eraser looking out at me with my eyes. This had happened to me a couple times in the past, completely freaking me out.

I didn’t look like a little kid anymore. I looked older, like a teenager.

“What are you doing in there, waxing your mustache?”Iggy yelled, pounding on the bathroom door.

I yanked the door open and pushed him backward hard, making him stagger. “I don’t have a mustache, you idiot!”Iggy giggled and put his arms up to protect himself in case I punched him. “And you know what?” I added. “You don’t have one either. Well, maybe in a couple years. You can always hope.”

I left him in the hallway, anxiously fingering his upper lip.

In the living room, the rest of the flock sat around looking uncomfortable and unnaturally clean. As soon as I appeared, Total trotted over to me, his fur glossy.

“I gotbathed! ” he grumbled.

“You look lovely,” I said with a straight face. I patted his back. “You’re all fluffy and soft.” I left him while he was deciding whether to be appalled or flattered.

Fang was standing by a front window, gazing out from behind a privacy curtain.

“Anything going on out there?” I asked.