Cloneward Bound (6 page)

“Oh,” she said, smiling a bit forcedly. “Hi, FP.”

“So,” Fisher said, wishing he had thought to use the
CONVERSATIONAL TOPICS
function on his watch before now.

Before Fisher could get another word out, FP leapt out of his arms and into Veronica’s lap. She gave a surprised squeal as he began chewing her hair. Then he found her
purse strap, which he obviously thought would be delicious. He clamped his mouth down around it like a dog with a bone.

“FP!” Fisher said, trying to pry his pet off her bag. Veronica managed to remove the pig’s jaws, stifling a frustrated sigh.

“Fisher, if it’s all right, I’d like to just listen to music for a while. Besides, you should go back to your seat before Ms. Snapper catches you.”

Fisher smiled weakly, feeling his heart freeze into a solid ball and drop into his stomach with a splash.

Fisher glanced out the window as he made his way back to his seat and did a triple take.

The car—that same car—was still behind them and had pulled to the shoulder when the bus had stopped. Black as a crow in a tar pit and just as creepy. As the bus pulled back onto the highway, so did the car, careful to maintain its distance. Then a truck blocked Fisher’s line of sight for a moment and when it had passed, the car was gone.

“So
there
you are,” said Amanda as Fisher inched as far down in his seat as he could. “Are you going to help me or what?”

“How about this?” he mumbled, half to himself. “I’ll just go live in a cave somewhere and let Two be the only Fisher.”

Amanda quirked an eyebrow as though considering it.
Then she shook her head. “No way,” she said. “I’m not sneaking into some cave to bring you food. Come on, let’s focus.”

FP curled up in Fisher’s lap and went to sleep. Fisher leaned back in his seat, wishing he could go to sleep, too—possibly forever.

CHAPTER 5

The bus was at last making its way into the outskirts of Los Angeles. Trevor, who suffered from intense motion sickness, had made two more hurried runs to the bathroom. Spitballs papered the bus like a newly fallen snow. The documentary was finally over.

As they approached LA proper, the land, the air, and even the light seemed to change. A weird, faintly orange glow was pulsing out from the city like it was powered by ancient and terrible magic.

“This place looks a lot bigger in person,” Amanda said, gaping out the window.

Fisher could only nod, awestruck. The city stretched vastly alongside the massive highways, which crisscrossed the landscape like angry concrete fingers. FP struggled up and worked his way onto Amanda’s lap to get a better view. She didn’t seem to notice. The downtown loomed in the distance, skyscrapers clustering together like points on a crown.

“We only have a couple days,” Amanda said, half in a daze. “Where do we even begin?”

The black car had vanished. Fisher had tried to keep track of it during the trip, but he hadn’t spotted it out of any windows for almost two hours. Maybe it was gone.

“Welcome to LA!” Ms. Snapper stood up, wobbling a bit. “The city of dreams!”

Fisher felt a stony mass of doubt begin to pile onto his shoulders. The city was huge and sprawling, and contained millions of people—and he needed to find exactly one of them. At this point, there were only two things he could count on: Amanda’s relentless, single-minded determination, and Two’s ability to cause chaos and draw attention to himself.

An hour later, the bus rolled to a stop next to a large complex of film lots. The studio buildings were huge, cement-walled monoliths, like giant warehouses set in the middle a perfectly laid grid of asphalt pathways. Everyone started babbling excitedly about the stars they might see, films that were in production, and whether any of the movies might need extras.

“All right, everyone off, quickly and quietly. Form a line next to the bus,” Ms. Snapper said. The other chaperones, who had buried themselves in books and headphones during the trip, stood up. They counted heads
and checked attendance as the kids filed off. Fisher carried FP off the bus, and set the little pig down at his heels.

“Now you stay by me, okay, boy?” Fisher said sternly. FP looked up and blinked, looking like he hadn’t quite understood. “I have food for you if you do.” FP squealed happily and brushed up against Fisher’s leg. Fisher didn’t actually have any food for FP, since he hadn’t planned on FP’s presence, but he figured he could dig some up later. The
only
way to get his flying friend to behave was the promise of a treat.

The class lined up by the bus, which had pulled up right next to a white-walled studio building. After a minute, a small door opened in its side and a tall, black-haired woman in a dark, sleek-fitting business suit emerged, a close-lipped smile on her face.

“On behalf of
Strange Science
,” she said in a smooth voice, “I would like to welcome you to Los Angeles. My name is Lucy Fir, personal assistant to Dr. Devilish. I’ll be your guide today, and I’ll do my best to answer any questions you may have. Oh, look! Here comes the doctor himself.”

Everyone turned to look. Dr. Devilish stepped out of the building, trailed by several staff members. He was even taller than he looked on TV, and just as good-looking, with slicked-back black hair and a thin, precisely
trimmed goatee. His glaringly white teeth contrasted with his perfectly uniform almond-hued tan.

Ms. Snapper turned to face him. Her smile was so large it seemed to be consuming her face.

“Oh, Dr. Devilish!” she said, her voice quavering slightly. “We weren’t expecting to see you so soon. It’s a great pleasure … really, an honor, I mean.…” A reddish glow started at the base of her neck and quickly spread to her cheeks.

“Hmm?” Dr. Devilish said with a start, as though seeing them for the first time. Then he flashed them a dazzling smile. “Oh, yes, the students. Welcome to the show! I’ll be with you in a little while. I just have some … 
catalysts
to sequence. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Well, all right, I suppose.…” Ms. Snapper said, obviously crestfallen. “But we’ll see you soon. Very soon.” He didn’t seem to take much notice of the bright smile that she projected at him as he turned away. Amanda turned to Fisher and raised an eyebrow. He shrugged in response.

Dr. Devilish headed for a group of trailers huddled together across the studio lot. Lucy turned to speak to one of his other assistants, and Amanda took the opportunity to break away from the group and catch up with Dr. Devilish, holding out a pen and her notebook. He looked down with a tired smile, and after exchanging a few words with Amanda, took the pen and scribbled a quick note.

She rejoined the class as Ms. Fir began the tour and fell into step beside Fisher. Fisher caught a glimpse of Amanda’s open notebook, with the page that Dr. Devilish had written on. It said
To Sandra
, followed by an autograph in elaborate script with the final
h
trailing off into a pointed tail.

“Who’s Sandra?” Fisher said, raising an eyebrow.

“He must have misheard me when I told him my name,” Amanda said dejectedly.

The studios looked more or less identical from the outside: squat, gray, and very long. Lucy Fir led the class along a broad width of pavement between two studios.
Technicians, production assistants, lighting and sound technicians, and other film workers hurried past them carrying equipment, papers, and coffee, or navigated the lots in small golf carts.

“It’s amazing who you’ll see around here on an ordinary day,” Lucy said, walking confidently backward between the two studio buildings. “Actors, directors, legendary producers … Just one lot over is where
Keel Me Now
is being filmed, with Kevin Keels.… Oh!” Lucy laughed. “Speak of the devil. Or I should say—the hero.”

The class had just rounded the corner of the building. There, in a denim jacket and mirrored sunglasses, standing all of five foot two, was Kevin Keels. A gaggle of assistants, bodyguards, and helpers swarmed around him.

Instantly, the class went crazy.

Everyone shouted, screamed, or shrieked at Keels as he strutted past them, and he waved to everyone with his usual casual confidence.

Then something strange happened. When he saw Fisher, he paused, lowered his shades, and waved before walking on.

The whole class fell abruptly into silence. Veronica was staring at Fisher with her mouth hanging open. Fisher tried to say something, but all that emerged was an
errrrghhh
sound.

“All right, kids. Let’s keep the tour moving!” Lucy Fir
gestured for the students to follow her.

Fisher tried to ignore the fact that the other kids were still whispering and stealing glances at him.

“Wow, Fisher,” Veronica whispered, gazing at him with newfound admiration. “Did Kevin Keels really just wave at you?”

“Um … I think he was just, y’know, saying hello to the class.” Fisher pulled at his collar. Keels had looked directly at him when he waved. There was no doubt about it: he recognized Fisher. Or at least, he recognized Two. Two’s video must really be making the rounds.

“It sure looked like it,” Veronica said, gazing after the pop singer like a trail of gold coins was falling out of his socks.

He sighed. Fisher felt like his insides were trapped in a vortex of spiraling arctic wind. One thing was certain; the value of
K
was skyrocketing. At this rate, his first chance to kiss Veronica might be when their fossils were put on display.

CHAPTER 6