Last of the Mighty by Phineas Foxx Page B

Tucker had been freed of his demons and was no longer a danger. Tears welled in her eyes. Without thinking, I put an arm around her and pulled her into me. It was so natural. She pressed her cheek into my chest.
    â€œThanks,” she whispered. “But ya didn’t have to, y’know. I coulda handled it.”
    â€œOkay!” Uncle Will. Again. “How much?”
    Bafflement. “How much what?” I asked.
    â€œFor your dream’s theories. Angel ranks and weapons, Choir laws…all of it. What do you want for them? Needs some tightening of the screws, of course, but, in general, I believe the nimrodic simpletonians at work would love to—”
    â€œâ€™S’all yours. You can have it. Tell ‘em it’s your theory even. I don’t care.”
    He gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled excitement. Made the turn into Mandinka’s Safari Adventure. Then, out of nowhere, he blurted, “I got it!” He caught our eyes in the rearview. “Isn’t Winter Formal coming up?”
    â€œI don’t know?” I’d never gone to a formal dance.
    â€œIt’s next month.” Merryn was peering out the window. Probably replaying a few scenes from my escapades last night.
    â€œAs compensation for your dream, Og, I would like to pay for everything. The tickets. Your tux. Dinner. Corsages. All of it.”
    â€œWell, I wasn’t planning on—”
    â€œYou two are going together, aren’t you?”
    â€œI…don’t…” My heartbeat doubled. “Haven’t…really…”
    Merryn’s face turned from the window. Her lips wore a small smile.
    â€œWould you,” I asked her, “like to…”
    Her eyes found mine, color rising to her cheeks.
    â€œGo…”
    My mouth went all Sahara.
    â€œTo the, uh…”
    My tongue was tree bark. My epiglottis was camel fur.
    â€œThe dance with me?”
    With her eyes still on me and her smile still smiling, she nodded.

Chapter Twenty-nine
    Uncle Will paid the khaki-clad attendant, and the iron entry gates swung open. We followed a short line of cars into Mandinka’s Safari Adventure.
    Merryn and I had been quiet, grinning and nervously stealing glances at each other ever since she accepted my smooth invitation to Winter Formal. It was like we were ten again.
    The Jeep’s speakers crackled with static as Uncle Will tried to find the park’s Audio Adventure on the radio.
    The radio’s fuzz woke the slumbering Committee, and an escalating din of clangs, cries, and shrieks filled my head. If only Mr. Lavender had had the time to teach me how to silence The Symphony before my dream forest went bust.
    Merryn looked at me, her lips moving. This was always the worst, not being able to hear her over The Committee. I pointed to my head—a signal we had worked out last year, shortly after I’d told her about my problem—to let her know The Committee was wailing.
    She nodded, understanding. Though, I’m sure I saw a frustrated angle to her mouth. Like maybe she thought I was faking it so I didn’t have to talk to her.
    I put my hand on her wrist and was about to mouth sorry when my attention was drawn to a familiar voice in The Committee. It said,
    â€œSo simple to swindle,
    the idiot masses.
    From tots to teens
    even teachers in classes.”
    Demon Dr. Seuss again. The one I’d heard before falling asleep last night. Using my new skills, I concentrated on the voice. It was still tricky to listen with just enough intent to hear what was being said, but not so much that the speaker would feel my presence in The Symphony.
    â€œI stick out my tongue
    I wave at the young.
    A cute, furry deceiver
    sowing doubt in believers.”
    Merryn nudged me and pointed out her window.
    A giraffe was plucking leaves from the top of a tree. Behind it, four elephants roamed past. I smiled, but the Poet cut short the experience.
    â€œI