خاتمه

Epilogue

My name is Michael Vey. I’m finally back home in Meridian, Idaho. Home. It feels almost weird to say that. I can now honestly admit that I never thought I was going back. Part of me wondered if I even could. I once saw a movie about a soldier who was at war, getting shot at, defusing bombs—traumatic, high-stress stuff—then came home and the peace got to him. I hope that’s not me. Probably not. I could stand a little peace.

A lot has happened in a very short time. Just minutes after the Elgen surrendered, Enele’s grandfather was released from the monkey cage and taken to the hospital to recover. His friend, Elder Malakai, has been with him to help him through his recovery. It’s been difficult for the former prime minister, but he has been given a lot of love and respect by the Tuvaluan people. He was one of the few who refused to bow to Hatch, and he suffered for it. But all heroes suffer.

Not surprisingly, his grandson, Enele, was named the new prime minister of Tuvalu. We were invited to his inauguration. We were also honored. Jack, Taylor, Ostin, and I were given the Tuvaluan Order of Merit, which is their country’s highest honor. We wore ceremonial gowns and flowers wreaths on our heads. There was a lot of dancing going on. It was pretty cool.

We were also there when military honors were given posthumously to Gervaso and Tanner for the battle of Hades. I’m not embarrassed to say that there were a lot of tears shed. On the island of Niutao, the one we called Hades, there’s now a monument erected to the Electroclan, who risked their lives for the Tuvaluan people. Gervaso’s and Tanner’s names are carved at the top.

On the homefront, we’re not poor anymore. In part because my father took over the distribution of the Joule’s cache. That’s a job in itself. He made sure the families of those hurt in the resistance were taken care of for life, college funds, the whole shebang. And he took care of us. The truth is, it’s the Electroclan’s gold. And when you’ve got a few billion sitting around, well, you can’t even spend the interest.

On top of that, my father’s now a big executive at the Elgen Corporation. It’s weird to even think about that. The new board is thinking of changing the name of the company to VEYTRIC Inc. I don’t know. It’s kind of catchy. And it doesn’t make me think of being eaten by rats every time I hear it.

Not everything in the reentry was smooth. There were a lot of questions asked, some that couldn’t be answered. When people asked where we’d been, we just told them that Taylor, Jack, Ostin, and I had enrolled in the Elgen Academy in Pasadena and then it shut down. All true. We never tell them that we’re the ones who shut it down. Or that we were almost killed in the process.

There were problems that had to be cleaned up, like with Taylor’s parents and the whole kidnapping thing and the van blowing up. We kind of made a huge mess of things. But no one could really prove anything, anyway. And sometimes it’s just who you know. When the president of the Philippines and the president of Taiwan called the secretary of state, who called Idaho’s governor, who called the mayor, who called the police chief . . . Well, let’s just say they let things slide. It happens. I’m not saying it’s right. But it happens.

Fortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Liss were back in Idaho when the Elgen attacked Christmas Ranch. They had left just the day before. It was a beautiful coincidence. Maybe there are no coincidences.

Some things we lost we can never get back. Like our innocence. Or, like my father said, the time we could have had together.

Most of all, we’ll never get back the friends we lost. Maybe it’s being back in Idaho, but I think a lot about Wade. Especially when I walk out the back door, where he, Jack, and Mitchell tried to pants me and I shocked the daylight out of them. Strange, but if that hadn’t happened, I never would have met Jack. And without Jack, well, I don’t even want to think about that. It just goes to show you how good can come from bad.

It makes me sad that no one ever asks about Wade. He really had no one but Jack. Today there’s a monument in the Meridian cemetery for him. It’s a marble pillar with the words: Wade West

He died a hero for his friends.

He’ll live forever in our hearts.

Taylor wrote that. I thought it was really good. The pillar is six feet tall, taller than Wade was. That’s good, because, in his own way, Wade was bigger than life. I once heard it said, there are no great men, just great challenges. I don’t know if that’s true. I know some great men and women, but maybe it was the challenges that made them great. If it hadn’t been for Dr. Hatch’s evil, Jack might never have found out how good or heroic he really was. Maybe that’s true for all of us.

Strange, school didn’t change all that much. I did. We all did. I still have Tourette’s, but I’m not short anymore. Ostin’s not chubby anymore. But school, well . . . same spaghetti with mystery sauce and that same sticker still stuck above my locker—the one of the skull with a lightning bolt in it. Someone said it was from an ancient rock band called the Grateful Dead. I don’t know anything about them, but that sticker has me written all over it.

Of course, every school still has its bullies. My first day back I was walking down the hall with Taylor and Ostin when an overgrown, red-faced senior noticed my tics and stepped in front of me. “Hey, twitchy, you got your blinker on.” I looked up at him calmly. “Do you have a problem with that?” “Yeah, weirdo, I’ve got a problem with you.”

“It’s Tourette’s syndrome, you moron,” Taylor said. “And if I were you, I’d start apologizing before you get hurt.” “Straight up,” Ostin said. “Just apologize, and maybe he’ll let you go.” The bully stood there, not sure what to make of us.

“Look at him,” Ostin said. “What an ape. He’s got the frontal lobe of a baboon.” The guy turned to Ostin. “What did you say?”

“Sorry, I’ll use small words so you can keep up,” Ostin said. “You’re clearly not the brightest crayon in the box. In fact, I think someone left your crayons in the sun.” Taylor laughed. “That’s funny.”

The bully blushed at being laughed at by a cute girl. “All right, dude. I’m going to pound blinky boy. Then I’m going to pound you into dust.” Taylor laughed again. “Man, did you ever pick the wrong guys to bully.” “Yeah, dude,” Ostin said. “You’re a stupidiot because that was the height of stupidiocy. Like, inviting-Hitler-to-your-bar-mitzvah stupid.” I laughed as well. Then I said to the bully, “Look, man, I don’t want to hurt you. So step aside and I’ll let you walk away.” He looked at me like I was taking crazy pills. “You’re going to let me walk away?” He laughed, though I could tell that, on some level, he was worried.

Just then Jack walked up. “Hey, bro.” He was wearing a tank top that showed off some wicked bullet scars and his arm muscles, which, by now, looked more like most guys’ thighs than biceps. In fact, his tattoo of the jackal was so stretched by muscle that it looked pregnant. “What’s going on, loser-bait,” Jack said to the bully. “You picking on my friend?” The bully stepped back. “Oh, that’s why you act so tough. You get your big brother to fight your fights.” “I’m not his brother,” Jack said. “And I didn’t come to fight for him. I came to see him waste you. This is Michael Vey, the same guy that took out Corky and me.” The guy looked at me nervously. “You’re . . . Michael Vey?” “He’s legacy, man,” Ostin said.

“You are my brother,” I said to Jack. “So, bro, what should I do with this clown?” “Just waste him,” Jack said. “That’s the language bullies understand. I ought to know.” The bully looked at me fearfully.

“No, wait,” Ostin said, stepping forward. “I got this.” Ostin looked the bully in the eyes, then took off his glasses. “All right, brain-swamp. Wanna dance?” The bully looked at him, then at me and Jack; then he said, “I—I gotta go.” He turned and ran down the hall.

“Yeah, you better run,” Ostin shouted after him.

Taylor waved. “Good-bye.”

I turned to Ostin. “ ’Brain-swamp’? ‘Wanna dance’? Where did that come from?” “I don’t know,” Ostin said. “But it felt good.” Jack and I hugged. “How’s reentry?” I asked.

“You know. Good seeing my sister. Still twelve credits from graduation. But Welch offered me the head security job at the Elgen Headquarters. Pays a fortune. He said I could bring my brother on too if I want.” “Are you going to take it?” Taylor asked.

“Probably,” Jack said. “Abi thinks I should. It means we’ll have to move to Italy. That will suck.” “Moving to Italy sucks?” I said.

“I can think of worse places to live,” Taylor said.

“I’m not saying Italy sucks,” he said. “It’s being away from my friends. From you guys.” “We’ll come see you,” Ostin said. “We’ve got a couple of jets at our disposal.” “That would be nice. And I could definitely get fat on pizza and pasta. But it won’t be PizzaMax.” “Thank goodness for that,” I said.

Ostin gasped. “You didn’t.”

“I’ve seen the world, my friend,” I said. “Comparing PizzaMax pizza to real Italian pizza is like comparing Richard Simmons to Arnold Schwarzenegger.” “Well said,” Ostin said. “Painful, but well said.” “How is Abi?” I asked.

“She’s good. She’s thinking of going to nursing school. She could do that in Italy too.” “That’s so cool,” Taylor said. “She would be the best nurse ever.” Suddenly, down the hall, two girls in cheerleading outfits screamed. “It’s Tay! Tell me it’s true! Hey, Tay! Where have you been?” We watched them bounce toward us in wonder. I looked at Taylor. “Where have you been, Tay?” I asked.

“A different world,” she said.

“No,” I replied. “A different universe.”

The girls ran up to Taylor, practically mugging her. “Where have you been?” the first girl asked.

“Yeah,” said the other. “Are you going to try out for cheerleading?” Taylor looked at them and smiled. “No. I’m good.” “What?” the first girl said.

Her friend said to her, “She said she’s good.” “We know you’re good,” the first girl said. “That’s why you should try out.” “Thanks,” Taylor said. “But I’ve got to go.”

The girls looked stunned. “For rude . . . ,” they both said.

As the four of us turned to walk away, I asked Taylor, “There’s really no part of you that still wants to be a cheerleader?” “No,” she said quickly. “Isn’t that weird? For so long I thought it was all I wanted. And now . . .” She shook her head. “I’m good. I’ve got everything I need.” “So do I,” I said. I suddenly laughed. “Ostin, what did you call that kid, stupidiot?” “Yep. Stupidiot. See what I did there, I combined the two words to make them—” “Yeah, we got it,” Taylor said.

“Nice,” I said. “I’m going to use that.” I hit Ostin on the shoulder. “You know, for a geek, you’ve gotten pretty cool.” “McKenna helped,” he said.

“We gals are good for you guys,” Taylor said. She suddenly stopped and looked at me. “And someday, Michael Vey, I’m going to marry you.” “Whoa,” Jack said, laughing.

“Where did that come from?” I asked.

“My brain,” she said.

“Do I have a say in this?”

“Only if you say yes.”

I smiled. “You read my mind.”

“No,” Taylor said. “I didn’t need my powers for that.” We kissed.

“Get a room,” Ostin said.

After Taylor and I pulled apart, Taylor said, “So, Boyfriend, they say that before you marry someone, you should go on a trip with them. You know, to really get to know them. What do you think?” “I think we can check that off the list.”

“But if we ever get married—”

“We’re way too young.”

“I don’t feel young,” Taylor said.

“It’s not the years, it’s the mileage,” Jack said.

Taylor laughed. “Well, you guys don’t need to get all freaked out. I know we’re young, and I’m not shopping for a wedding dress. I was just going to say, if we were to get married and we had a family, do you think our children would be electric?” I thought for a moment. “Only one way to find out.” “I’m out of here,” Jack said. “See you after school.” “Me too,” Ostin said. “Bones.”

“Bones,” Taylor and I said back.

My name is Michael Vey. I told you in the beginning that my story was strange. Very strange. I also told you that I had Tourette’s syndrome and I was electric. You probably didn’t see where all that was going. Neither did I. And I had to live it. I almost had to die it. What a ride.

You know, through all I’ve been through, I’ve learned something important about life. Something that might mean something to you, too. It’s something I had to go all around the world to learn, but it was worth it. It’s simply this: It’s not all right to be different. It’s freaking awesome.