After calling Nudge and describing my adventure in thrilling detail, I suffered from major insomnia. Apparently the Ari hadn't seen creepy man, since he came from the opposite street and when Gaz threw the bomb, nothing happened. Iggy didn't know what was happening so yeah...It wasn't nightfall keeping me awake, though; it was a guy with the deepest, darkest, dreamiest eyes that I had ever seen. My heart was spinning as much as my head. He was beautiful. His hair, his face, his lips.
Why didn't he try to call the police? Is something I've been wondering. When would I see him again? I already missed Roadkill, and that means something for me missing a guy. I was swinging high on the swing set the next morning at Evans Park, waiting for Nudge, my head still dizzy from the previous night's encounter. I skidded to a stop when she finally arrived and I told her the whole incredible story again.
"You're lucky he didn't kill you!"
"Are you kidding? He was magnificent! I'd wait forever to meet someone half as cool!"
"What about the rumors?" asked Nudge.
"I honestly don't care about the rumors Nudge."
I sauntered home from Evans Park daydreaming aboutseeing my prince of darkness, when I spotted a black Mercedes turning the corner at the far end of my street. I ran after it, as fast as I could, but converse can't compete with spinning wheels and motorized acceleration, even with Creepy man driving.
At home I was greeted by mom, who had something in her hands.
"Seems as though the mail is now being delivered on Sundays. And the Sunday mailman is that weird butler from the Mansion!"
"What?"
"He delivered a letter for you," she said extending a closed red envelope.
"Thanks," I said and ran to my room. I threw myself on my bed, my black down comforter soft against my arms, and stared at the blank red envelope.
It could say anything inside like: "Stay off our property or we'll sue you and your parents. " But at least I had the threat safely in my hands. I gently opened the envelope, fearing the worst.
But it was an invitation! It said "Mr. Fang Walker requests the company of Ms. Maximum Ride at his home December 1 at 8:00 P. M. For dinner." How did he know my name? How did he know where I lived?
And was this real? No seventeen-year-old guy in this town, state, or country invited girls over like this. It was straight out of some Merchant-Ivory-Emma Thompson movie where people have stuffy British accents and are sandwiched into corsets and never say the word "love. " It was so medieval, old-fashioned, out of this world. It was so romantic my flesh tingled all over. I looked at the envelope for any other message, but that's all there was. It didn't even say "R. S. V. P." What nerve! He expected I would come, and he was right. I most definitely would.