THAT NIGHT WE DECIDED to order in pizza like normal people.

Mom had a menu from a local place, and each of us kids got to order our own whole, large pizza. I would never get used to having enough to eat for more than a day or two at a time. It wouldn’t last, so I was going to enjoy it while I could.

“So, this whole government-control thing isn’t working for me,” I said while we waited for the delivery guy to show up.

My mom looked at me. “I’d feel better if you were being protected somehow,” she said. See? That’s what kind of mom she is. She doesn’t order me to do stuff, doesn’t try to pin me down. As long as I don’t leave my socks lying around, I’m golden.

“Their protection neverlasts, ” saidGazzy. “It turns into something else. Like a trap, or a nightmare, or an experiment. Did I remember to order extra pineapple?”

The rest of the flock nodded.

“I don’t want to go to school,” said Nudge, pulling her attention away from a TV show. “Unless it’s, like, fashion school or music school, like how to be a rock star. But math class every day? And spelling?Bleah.”

“I don’t think those people really know what they want,” said Angel thoughtfully.

“Did we remember to get garlic bread?” Total asked, and we all nodded again.

“But you’re not picking up out-and-out evil?” I asked Angel. Having a six-year-old mind reader does come in handy.

“No,” Angel said, stroking Total’s back. “I can feel secrets, and confusion. But no mad-scientist stuff.”

“Something new and different,” saidIggy.

“Anyone want refills on lemonade?”Jeb asked, holding out the carton.