ow bad can it be?

“Gee, a fancy school in northern Virginia,” Iggy muttered. “How bad can it be?”

“I’m sure nothing disastrous or life threatening will happen to us while we’re here,” I said, sounding much more gullible than I am.

Here we were at Ye Olde Academy for Mutants and Other Kids. Shortly after my Oscar-worthy speech to Congress, my mom had explained that some important people had gone ahead and created a school for us. Frankly, we’d all been ready to kick back and relax on a non-hurricaned beach for a while, but Mom and Jeb had asked us to give the school a try. So here we were.

It was the ribbon-cutting ceremony, and when I’d taken a gander at the government limos, bigwigs, news teams, and stuff, I’d cottoned on to the fact that this was a big deal.

Plus, my mom; my half sister, Ella; Jeb; and some of the scientists from the Wendy K. were all there, beaming at us. I don’t know who had created this school (actually called the Lerner School for Gifted Children- I thought they’d misspelled Learner, but then found out Lerner was some guy who donated a bunch of money), and I had no idea why anyone who knew us would think that we’d be here for any length of time, but hey! I was willing to try anything once!

So here we were, my flock. Angel’s arm was all better, Akila had fully recovered (but still weighed eighty pounds, which still posed a humongo problem carting her furry butt around when we flew), Total’s wings had continued to grow, and yesterday he’d gotten his two front paws about an inch off the ground. I almost missed Antarctica- not the coldness part but the empty cleanness of it, and the fact that we’d been relatively safe there (until we were captured, anyway), and the meaning of the work we’d done there. I missed the penguins. The leopard seals? Not so much.

We were all clean, and I only mention this because it was something new and different. Cameras were flashing all around us. Our former “lie low and be anonymous” rule was pretty much shot all to heck. I’d had a great visit with my mom and Ella, and do not tell anyone I said this, but I was relieved that Brigid was staying in Antarctica and Fang was staying here.

I wondered if they had rounded up some of the other mutant kids I’d crossed paths with at the Institute and at Itex. I had always felt kinda sorry for them. They seemed lonely, like they didn’t have a flock, or a family, or a purpose in life.

“And now, without further ado, I give you the Lerner School for Gifted Children!” The mayor of this small town stepped forward and cut the ribbon across the front entrance with a big pair of scissors that wouldn’t be good for anything except stuff like this. The wide ribbon fell neatly apart, and everyone clapped and took pictures.

Max?

I didn’t pay any attention for a moment, and then I realized that it was actually my Voice, the one inside my head. (I wonder if that phrase will ever sound less weird.)

What? I thought.

I know you’re in the middle of something here, and I hate to interrupt, but there’s another mission for you.

Huuuh? What are you talking about? I just did my mission! And almost died! A bunch of times!

Max, Max, Max, said the Voice in that irritating way it had. The world isn’t saved yet, is it? You’ve got work to do. Now, get out of there, and I’ll give you the coordinates of where you need to go.

Well. I weighed some unknown, probably difficult, possibly deadly mission, with us not knowing where we were going or what we’d be doing, against this bright, shiny new school building, no doubt full of gleaming desks and Macs everywhere.

Never let it be said that I, Maximum Ride, would ever shirk my duty.

“Come on, guys,” I said to the flock. “Gotta go. More world to save. All this book learning’s going to have to wait.”

Nudge looked relieved, and Gazzy said, “Oh, thank God.”

“Max?” said my mom.

I gave her a quick hug and a kiss, and Ella too.

“Duty calls,” I said. “I’ll let you know where I am. Thanks for everything.”

“I love you,” she said, because she’s the coolest mom in the entire messed-up world.

Many cameras went off when the six of us, holding Total and Akila, whom I now thought of as the world’s heaviest Malamute, took running starts, unfurled our wings, and soared into the sky, just like that.

My heart was so full of freedom that I felt like it might burst.