“Every stork contributes,” Bam tells them. “Get off your lazy butts and get to work.”
Makayla whispers something into Kate-Lynn’s ear, and Kate-Lynn throws a telepathic sort of gaze at Emmalee, who shakes her head and turns back to Bam, offering an apologetic smile that’s not apologetic at all.
“We really do have special permission directly from Starkey,” she says.
“Permission to do nothing? I don’t think so.”
“Not to do nothing, but to take care of ourselves. And each other,” Kate-Lynn says.
“Right,” parrots Makayla. “Ourselves and each other.”
Every word out of their mouths makes Bam want to just slap them silly. “What on earth are you talking about?”
They share that three-way telepathic gaze again; then Emmalee says, “We’re really not supposed to talk about this with you.”
“Really. Did Starkey tell you that?”
“Not exactly.” Finally Emmalee rises to face Bam, holding her gaze and speaking slowly. “We have to take care of ourselves . . . because Starkey’s made us unwind proof.” Bam is not a stupid girl. She’s not much when it comes to school smarts, because her attitude always got in the way—but she’s always been a quick study in the school of life. This, however, is so far out of the realm of Bam’s concept of reality, she just doesn’t get it.
Now the other Prissies stand. Makayla puts a sympathetic hand on Bam’s shoulder. “Unwind proof for nine months,” she says. “Do you understand now?”
It hits her like a mortar blast. She actually stumbles back into the wall. “You’re lying! You have to be!”
But now that it’s out, their eyes take on a strange ecstatic look. They’re telling the truth! My God, they’re telling the truth!
“He’s going to be a great man,” Kate-Lynn says. “He already is.”
“We might all be storks, but his children won’t be,” says another. Bam doesn’t even know which one it is. They’re all the same to her now. Three talking heads on a single body, like some horrible, beautiful hydra.
“He promises he’ll take care of us.”
“All of us.”
“He swears he will.”
“And you don’t know what it’s like.”
“You can’t know what it’s like.”
“To be chosen by him.”
“To be touched by greatness.”
“So we can’t carry munitions today.”
“Or tomorrow.”
“Or ever.”
“So sorry, Bam.”
“Yes, so sorry.”
“We hope you can understand.”
• • •
Bam storms through the maze of the mine in search of Starkey, losing track of where she’s been, her thoughts and emotions in such a tailspin, it’s all she can do not to blow up like a clapper.