The Girl Who Fell Out of the Sky Page 2
Piper touched down in the farmyard and went for the barn door that had been rigged to scan the DNA of anyone who tried to enter. It quickly identified Piper, and she stepped into a world that was equal parts futuristic science lab and crime-fighting headquarters, all in the confines of a rickety old barn.
Piper did not stop to marvel at the monitors with multiple satellite feeds, contraptions that were both highly advanced and strangely constructed; she didn’t have time to look at the individual work areas positioned around the perimeter of the barn, each one as different as the ability of the kid who occupied it. Above her in the loft was a laboratory, and she could hear strange experiments in the works that Conrad had bubbling and brewing. Photographs had begun to gather on the walls, evidence of the adventures they’d had, the places they’d been, and the people they’d met. Nor did she stop to take a metal clamp out of Fido’s mouth. Fido was Conrad’s pet, a strange combination of lizard, bat, and dog. He’d recently developed a nasty habit of stealing important things and chewing them into something else entirely.
Instead, Piper strode to the center of the organized chaos, where a team-meeting table stood. Seated around the table waiting for her were ten children who ranged from nine to seventeen years old. Over the last couple of years, this group of kids had not only lived together, but worked together and grown up together. This had transformed them into the strongest of teams and the closest of families.
At the head of the table stood fourteen-year-old Conrad, who was the brains of the operation—as was befitting a super genius—and the mastermind behind the transformation of the McClouds’ barn into a high-tech haven. He was, in action and deed, neat and precise, like a walking fact. He was also Piper’s best friend.
Sitting next to Conrad were twin boys Nalen and Ahmed Mustafa, lolling back in their chairs and randomly poking at each other or, if they could get away with it, sending a spitball down the table to an unsuspecting victim. Even though Nalen and Ahmed were the oldest of the group, having passed their seventeenth birthday, they were the most likely to cause mischief. Conrad was always careful to keep a sharp eye on them, because there was no telling what two boys with the ability to change the weather from a sunny day to a blizzard in the blink of an eye could get up to.
Next to the twins sat Jasper and Violet, the most quiet and timid of the group. Jasper had just reached his ninth birthday and, for the most part, had outgrown his nervous stutter. He was a delicate waif of a boy who possessed a wondrous ability to heal and whose deep empathy was matched only by Violet. Violet was currently half her normal size, as she’d just been hit on the side of the head by Nalen’s spitball. She startled easily and could shrink to a remarkably small size, either by her own design or when afraid. When she was at her normal size, Violet was a shy beauty, with her dark complexion and soulful brown eyes. Despite her retiring nature, Violet was a much valued and loved member of the group for her loyalty and her quiet courage.
“We have a lot to cover this morning,” Conrad said, pulling the attention of the group to him. He’d isolated the place on the electronic globe that he was looking for and was ready to start the meeting. “I need your full attention. As you know, my family, along with Dr. Hellion and J., sent word this morning that they were entering Xanthia.” Conrad showed their position in a mountainous region on the map. “The Chosen Ones have severed communication with us, and my father’s goal is to make contact with them and ascertain their status. He will get word to us as soon as he can.”
Satisfied that this information had been absorbed, Conrad swiped the image away and pulled up a windswept beach in the Caribbean and another item on his agenda. “Next—I came across this disaster area. Would anyone here care to explain it?”
Ahmed and Nalen groaned at the same time and slumped down in their seats. “It’s not what you think,” Nalen said.
Ahmed agreed. “We didn’t do anything.”
“And yet,” Conrad said, “destruction seems to follow. According to my calculations, it is highly improbable that a tropical storm would erupt unexpectedly, hit one beach only, and then dissipate all within the course of ninety minutes. The same ninety minutes, I might add, that you happened to be surfing on that beach.”
“Who can predict the weather?” Nalen shrugged.
“Someone who can change the weather,” Conrad retorted.
Ahmed put his hands over his head. “You’re picking on us.”
“Piper’s here!” Smitty interrupted, catching sight of her heading for the table. Smitty had X-ray vision, so he usually spotted things before anyone else. Now sixteen, Smitty had recently shed his braces and grown the beginnings of biceps, and each day he took great pains to carefully comb back his hair, all for the benefit of Kimber. Even though Kimber sat directly across the table from Smitty, she noticed none of these things; Kimber was not a romantic or lovestruck sort of girl. Kimber was the sort of girl who could tase a boy, and often did, with the vast voltage of electricity in her fingertips. Romance made Kimber feel squeamish, and she shielded her growing body with baggy clothes. Seeing Piper approach, Kimber threw the ball of static electricity that she’d been playing with in her hands.
“Hey, Piper. Think fast!”
Piper easily dodged it and plopped down at her seat on the far side of the table, facing Conrad.
“I held off on the important stuff until you got here,” Conrad said to her before turning back to Ahmed and pointing at the beach. “What did I tell you the last time this happened?”
“We were only surfing.” Ahmed slouched. “Since when is surfing a crime?”
“Since you created a windstorm that did this.” Conrad gazed at the damage to the beach.
“It wasn’t our fault.” Nalen planted his elbows on the table. “You can’t convict us without proof.”
“Oh, you want proof?” Conrad quickly accessed satellite information and began displaying it for the twins, who began to refute it and find fault with it.
From experience, Piper knew that this entire argument could take time, so she leaned back in her chair and turned to Lily Yakimoto, who had the seat to her right.
“What’d I miss?” Piper whispered to Lily.
“Max is up to something.” Lily kept her voice low. “But Conrad didn’t want to go into details until you got here. Something about a big attack and world danger and, you know, the usual.”
“Not more orphans, I hope,” Piper said. “Max has been doing that a lot lately.”
“I know, right?” Lily telekinetically pulled a pen off her workstation on the other side of the barn. The pen zipped across, made a sharp detour around Daisy, and landed in Lily’s hand. She quickly applied it to the pad of paper in front of her.
Glancing over, Piper caught sight of Lily’s page. Besides being telekinetic, Lily was a budding dress designer and had a passion for fashion. Like Jasper, Lily was nine years old, but despite her youth, she had the poise and fashion sense of a young Coco Chanel.
“Nice!” Piper whispered, admiring her sketch. “What’s that for?”
“The spring dance,” Lily whispered back.
Piper was all ears. “You’re going to the spring dance?”
“Everyone’s going to the dance,” Lily said with authority. “Aren’t you?”
Piper swallowed. “I dunno.”
* * *
When the Lowland County Spring Dance had been announced at church the Sunday before, Piper had realized that she had two pressing problems: she didn’t have a dress that fit, and, in order to attend the dance, someone would first have to ask her.
The moment church let out, Piper flew home ahead of the others to discuss her predicament with her mother.
“I can’t go to the dance if I don’t have a dress, but I’ve grown two inches since Christmas, and now they’re all too short. My blue cotton’s so plain.” Piper clutched her hands together and started to float. “Jameson’s store got some new dresses in the window. Maybe I could try one on?”
Be
tty McCloud was a round, plain woman, and she sniffed at the notion of store-bought clothes. “I’ll take a look at your blue cotton and see if I can’t let it down. No cause to go buying things we don’t need; waste not, want not, I always say.”
“But, Ma, I’m twelve years old! I can’t wear a dress meant for babies.”
“Twelve is still a youngen through and through. Besides, I’m not sure a child your age is ready to go off to a dance.”
“But I’m not a child anymore, and everyone will be there. I have to go!”
“And if everyone jumped off a cliff, I suppose you’d jump too,” Betty replied tartly.
“I jump off cliffs all the time!”
“Don’t sass me, child.”
“But—”
Betty’s hand flew into the air before Piper’s argument could become airborne. “I mean what I say, Piper. Not another word.”
* * *
Piper shifted in her seat and threaded her fingers together. “I can’t go to the dance, Lily. I don’t have anything to wear.”
Lily sighed as though she were dealing with a child who was much, much younger. “Obvi,” she said. “Like I didn’t know that!” Flipping the pages on her pad, she came to another design and revealed it to Piper.
“Wow! That’s something.” The dress was simple with a full skirt, feminine but not frothy. It was Piper’s dream of a dress. “It’s beautiful!”
“I know.” Lily did not suffer from pangs of modesty and saw no need to pretend she did. “I already made it. It’s yours.” Pulling the page free, she handed it to Piper. “Problem solved.”
Piper clutched the paper dress before turning it over discretely on the table. “I … uh … I don’t know. It’s probably not a good idea that I go to the dance. I think I’ll stay home.”
Lily was affronted. “You can’t stay home. We’re all going. Everyone will be there. The dress is ready!”
An embarrassed heat burned Piper’s complexion. Lily’s eyes narrowed as she rooted into the crux of the issue. “Wait a second,” she said. “Did someone ask you to the dance?”
Piper’s face went from pink to red. “Pffff.” She puffed like it was a stupid question, like the answer was obvious. Then she turned back to Lily. “Did someone ask you?”
“Jasper asked me,” Lily said quickly. “I had to tell him to ask me, but as soon as I told him to, he did. When I overcame my surprise and natural feminine shyness at his bold request, I, of course, agreed to accompany him. Smitty asked Kimber. Daisy and Myrtle are going as friends. Ahmed and Nalen are going too, but they won’t tell me who they’re going with.” Lily rolled her eyes. “Probably no one. Violet says she’d shrink too much and wants to stay home.” Lily took a deep breath after this report and then bit on her pencil as she considered Piper’s predicament. “So who asked you?”
Piper swallowed, her eyes falling to her lap. “No one asked me.”
Lily tsked over this news. “This won’t do,” she whispered. She wasn’t going to have this for one second; she’d designed the dress, she’d decided they were all going, and Piper was ruining her plans. “Conrad will ask you to the dance,” she decided.
Piper’s face turned into an inferno of heat. “Conrad’s my best friend. I’m not going to a dance with him.”
“Conrad likes you,” Lily pointed out.
“Yes, because we’re friends.”
“No, he likes you.” Lily tried this idea on for size, and it suited the situation nicely. Now that it was decided, she took it one step further. “He probably loves you.”
“What?” Piper squeaked loudly.
Conrad turned from his rendering model and looked at Piper. “I said we need to communicate our positions to each other as we’re moving,” Conrad repeated. Suddenly he noticed the extreme color of Piper’s face. “Piper? Are you sick?”
“N-no,” Piper stuttered.
“She needs a glass of water,” Lily said, taking command of the situation. “Come on, Piper.” Grabbing Piper’s arm, Lily led her away.
“The reason Conrad hasn’t asked you is because of this,” Lily continued when they were out of earshot, pointing her pencil at Piper’s head, and then up and down her body.
“This?” Piper looked herself over. “What?”
“You! You are the problem.” Lily grabbed one of the bands off Piper’s braids, freeing her hair. “Boys like it when your hair is loose and curly.”
“They do?”
“Of course they do. And you should flip it around a bit too; it catches their attention.” Lily flipped her shining hair to demonstrate.
Piper flipped her hair, but it tangled about in messy clumps.
“And this!” Lily pulled at Piper’s old T-shirt and jeans. “You can’t wear this!”
“But this is my favorite T-shirt, and these jeans are so comfortable.” Piper wrapped her arms around herself to protect her favorite clothes.
Lily shook her head like she was dealing with a disobedient child and handed Piper a glass of water. “Dresses are more feminine. Look at me.” Lily turned around, allowing Piper to admire her lovely silk dress. “This is how you should look. If you want Conrad to ask you to the dance, you need to look like me.”
“But I’m not trying to get Conrad to ask me to the dance!” Piper was flustered beyond belief.
“But you want to go to the dance, right?”
Piper did want to go. She did want to wear the nice dress that Lily had made for her, and she did want someone to ask her. But after that it got complicated. She wasn’t sure how it would feel to dance with a boy, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that. Everything suddenly felt different than it had before.
“I want to go the dance,” she admitted.
Lily held up a single finger. “Not another word. I will take care of everything.”
* * *
Three hours later, Lily presented Piper to herself in front of a full-length mirror.
The image that Piper saw belonged to someone else entirely. Her hair had been turned into a waterfall of golden-brown waves cascading over her shoulders. A cheeky curl over her left eye completed her coif. Lily had applied a sheer pink lip gloss on Piper’s lips, and it sparkled when it caught the light. Piper’s dress fit her to perfection—elegant and sweet, folds of blue silk dotted with pearls around the waist and bodice.
“Golly,” Piper breathed. “I don’t recognize myself.”
“Exactly!” Lily crossed her arms over her chest, satisfied with her work. “From now on this is how you are going to look all the time. Mark my words: Conrad will be on his knee begging you to go to the dance in less than twenty-four hours, or my name isn’t Lily Yakimoto.”
Lily slid a golden flower hair clip in the shape of a lily (what else?) out of her hair and fixed it on Piper’s head. “There. Now you’re perfect!”
The hair clip was heavy and substantial; Piper felt the weight of it pressing down on her skull. As she turned her head, the clip twinkled.
“You’re practically a grown-up.” Lily said. “If you want to get invited to a dance and be a grown-up, you’ve got to be less…” Lily looked at Piper, and her hands fluttered as she attempted to capture just the right word to encapsulate her feelings. “You have to be less you and more this.”
“This?”
“Yes. This!” Lily waved her hands up and down Piper’s coiffed and perfectly outfitted form. “This is grown-up. This is you!”
“Oh.” Piper looked at the “you” in the mirror. She did look fabulous; there was no denying that. She looked like a young lady. But still … she felt awkward and strange and uncomfortable and definitely not herself. She felt heavy. “I guess I’m not used to it yet. But that’ll just take time, right?”
A gust of wind announced the arrival of Myrtle, who was suddenly standing right in front of them. “We’re moving out in sixty minutes,” she started to say before she caught a glimpse of Piper and did a double take. “What’s wrong with you? Is it Halloween and I forgot?”
“You look so … so…”
“Elegant? Grown-up?” Lily offered.
“Weird,” Myrtle said decisively.
“You only think she looks weird because you have the fashion sense of a garbage collector,” Lily retorted. “Piper looks like a young lady!”
“Uh. Whatever.” Clearly, Myrtle didn’t think so. “Conrad wanted to make sure that Piper is ready to move out.”
Lily lifted her eyebrow and gave Piper a significant look. “Conrad wants Piper?”
Myrtle’s face screwed up. “Conrad wants all of us. We’ve got to go! You guys are acting odd. I’m out of here.” Myrtle zipped away.
“Mark my words.” Lily smiled smugly. “Something big is about to happen to you, Piper McCloud.”
CHAPTER
3
4:00 A.M. LOCAL TIME, WILTSHIRE, ENGLAND
“It’s a good day for it,” Max said to himself.
Max had a habit of talking to himself. It was, he thought, an occupational hazard of living forever; the only person you have to speak with consistently over the years is yourself. It was a good thing Max was the most interesting, most likable person he knew.
“I’m a great guy,” Max often said. “I’m lucky to have myself.”
Max had boyish good looks, a charming smile, and tousled blond hair. Anyone who looked at him would guess his age to be sixteen. He encouraged this impression by wearing jeans, high-tops, and a black T-shirt with the words CHILLIN’ LIKE A VILLAIN across the front.
Max was not subtle. And he was not sixteen.
Max had positioned a mesh sports chair so that he had a prime view. Settling in, he pulled a cold soda out of his backpack and slid it into the handy cupholder.
Genius, these cupholders! Why had it taken so long for them to be invented? The Romans would have gone bananas for a decent cupholder in their chariots.