“Blue box?” Marco blurts out, leaning in close to the new kid. “Like, a bright blue box, Rubik’s cube size, heavy, somewhat glowy?”
“Yep.” The new kid (David, Marco thinks) gives a loose shrug. “I sold it. Got forty bucks from some handicapped kid. Figured him for an easy mark, kid in a wheelchair like that.”
With effort, Marco keeps his opinion on David’s status as a human pustule to himself. “What’d he look like?” he asks instead.
David rolls his eyes. “I told you, he was in a wheelchair.”
“And you didn’t notice ANYTHING ELSE ABOUT HIM?”
Several people in the hallway stop to stare at Marco. David recoils.
“I just…” Marco takes a deep breath. “I really, really need that box.”
Jake says several bad words in close succession when Marco tells him. And then he assembles the troops.
“Okay,” Jake says, “we know this kid is probably male, uses a wheelchair, and is presumably about our age. Marco already ruled out the only two kids from our school who match that description—”
“Harold was really nice and wished me luck in finding my ‘game box,’” Marco says. “Joaquin was a total jerk, spent an hour trying to sell me a holographic Charizard instead before finally admitting he didn’t know anything about the morphing cube.”
“Did you at least buy the Charizard?” Rachel asks.
“Xena, Xena, Xena, I may be cute and smart and funny as hell,” Marco says, putting a hand over his heart, “but I am not made of stone. Had I owned the two Gyarados and an Alakazam he was asking in return, I would not have been able to withstand the temptation—”
<Two Gyarados and an Alakazam for one Charizard?> Tobias demands. <That’s highway robbery. You could’ve at least asked him to throw in a Chansey or a Gengar for that price.>
“Anyway,” Jake says loudly, “this kid doesn’t go to our school. Which makes our job a lot more difficult.”
Rachel goes to ask around at the local mall. Cassie logs onto one of the in-the-know chat rooms to see if anyone mentions the sale of a possibly-alien box. Ax and Tobias take aerial surveillance, scanning for kids who match David’s general description all over the city. It’s Marco, however, who gets the idea to go to the rehab center downtown. Marco who calls Jake from a pay phone to tell him to get there STAT, because turns out it’s got like 50 kids their age using wheelchairs.
It’s Marco who charms the nurse at the front desk with a story about how he’s there visiting his girlfriend. Marco who flirts so shamelessly with a girl named Collette to find out more about her friends James and Pedro with the new puzzle box that Jake’s pretty sure his cover story is going to become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Marco who finds this James kid and launches into their agreed-upon spiel about how the cube is part of a next-gen gaming system Marco’s dad is developing and Marco will get into epic levels of trouble if his dad found out he took it to school and promptly lost it, so will James please please please help a guy out and sell it back.
James listens, eyebrows raised, expression mild, until he’s sure they’re done talking. Then he says, “No.”
“Why not?” Marco sputters, indignant.
James turns to wheel out of the room. “Because I think it’s pretty. Because Pedro likes it, seeing as it breaks up the decor of our boring-as-hell room. Because I don’t need the money. Because fuck you, that’s why.”
WHAM. Jake hits the ground with enough force to bounce his head off the floor. He curls on his side, wheezing.
“I don’t know if you and the kid who sold me that thing are working together, or just the same brand of jerk,” James says, still terrifyingly calm. “I don’t know if this is some stupid prank or what. I do, however, know when I’m being bullshitted. I know that that other kid upcharged the hell out of me, and I only paid him anyway because I’ve got an astronomical allowance thanks to my deadbeat mom’s never-ending guilt money. I know that you two actually walked in here thinking that that cock-and-bull story would work on me. I know that you’re both going to leave right now before I call security.”
There are several seconds of ringing silence. And then Marco says, “Jake… I hate to be the one pointing out the elephant, but I’m pretty sure this guy’s not a controller.”
“I guess there’s not really time to call a vote, is there.” Slowly Jake climbs to his feet, keeping his hands where James can see them. “Okay then, James. We’re gonna show you one more thing, and then we’ll answer all your questions with the truth this time. But I gotta warn you, this next part is gonna get a little weird.”
“Here goes nothing,” Marco mutters as Jake starts to morph.
James drives a hard bargain, even after he decides he believes their second story more than their first. He insists that they cannot have the Escafil Device back until they use it to give Pedro at least one morph. He tells them outright that he will be joining their team and they don’t have a choice. Only after debating for over an hour does he agree to table to question, for now, of whether or not to give Kelly and the others a few morphs. Finally satisfied, he morphs the slightly-rumpled pigeon that Marco grabbed for him and leaves with Jake and Marco to go meet the others.
<There’s one other thing we should probably mention,> Jake says, as James gets ready to demorph for the first time in Cassie’s barn. <About the morphing, that is.>
<Yeah, I know, I’m gonna be naked.> James is already rapidly growing from pigeon shape, apparently unconcerned. <I promise not to be horrified if the rest of you can promise the same.>
<Actually…> Jake stops, because by then it’s a moot point. James has sprouted human legs with a half-bird body. On instinct he shifts his balance — and his right leg catches his weight.
Clearly having realized what just happened, James freezes. There is a long pause before he cautiously resumes the morph. Everyone waits in silence as he runs a hand over his knee… and then slowly climbs to his feet. “Way to warn a guy,” he says, voice shaky.
“You all right?” Cassie asks him.
James makes a small huffing noise. “Just when I thought today couldn’t get any weirder…”
<You’d be surprised the things you can adjust to. The things that stop seeming weird after a while,> Tobias says.
Looking up at him, James smiles. “No I wouldn’t.”
The meeting resumes from there. The other six talk about plans for dealing with the world leaders’ summit, pause often to explain concepts like kandrona to James, and occasionally give in to the urge to pester the new kid with questions. James spends most of that time sitting on a hay bale, clad in Cassie’s dad’s spare overalls, taking deep breaths as he stares at his own toes.
Their first-ever recon flight barely even gets off the ground before they’re all getting fried half to death by a human-controller with dracon glasses. None of them get too seriously injured, which is about all that can be said for the experience. <That was… extremely unpleasant,> Ax says as they fly away. His usual attempt at stoicism can’t hide how shaken he is; they all are.
<Yeah, that kinda sucked,> James says lightly. <So, what’s next?>
<’Kinda sucked’? ‘Kinda sucked’?> Marco sounds half-hysterical. <Kinda? What’s your idea of really sucking, if that whole burning-alive thing was a kinda?>
<You ever had an unanesthetized lumbar puncture?> James asks.
<A what now?>
<He’s saying he’s survived worse, dumbass,> Rachel explains. She tilts around to make eye contact with Jake, adding in private thought-speak. <I like this one. You chose well.>
It turns out that almost nothing phases James. He accepts rattlesnake and lion and even cockroach morph with the same calm self-assurance. He doesn’t enjoy the violence, but he doesn’t shy from it either. Pretty much every aspect of this new and awful life he takes in stride with the same canny competence that comes from a lifetime of taking care not just of himself but of his peers as well.
James adjusts, over those first several months. He adjusts to seeing the world from five and half feet off the ground, and to the way that everything from signs to barriers is suddenly at the height of his eyes. He adjusts to the experience of walking into a store or a cafe and having the employees smile and wave as if he’s a person rather than an object. He adjusts to coming to a flight of stairs and simply using them rather than looking around for where this week’s sadistic architect stashed the wheelchair ramp. He adjusts to the knowledge that the entire world — doors, bathrooms, buses, attitudes — is designed to accommodate only one type of body, and that it’s the body he has now. He doesn’t have to like it, he doesn’t have to stop being angry about the fact that you have to walk to get so many things done, but he adjusts.
Over time he comes to the Animorphs with the applications, one by one. Kelly, he explains, is tough and a little bitter but she’ll do just fine in battle. Collette might be a talker rather than a killer, but she’s damn smart underneath all her bullshit. Timmy’s a good person, the kind who can fight this war but still keep himself at the end of the day.
There are seven Animorphs. There are eight. There are ten. There are fifteen. Twenty-five. Thirty. They plateau at thirty, because that’s all Jake and James — who seem to co-lead these days — can keep track of with any degree of success.
The yeerks notice enough to be suspicious, but they respond by cracking down on the andalite patrols that — they believe — must be sneaking through Earth airspace.
“You know what I wonder?” James says, as they sit in a laundromat and wait for Tobias to get back with news about which Yeerk Pool entrance they’re attacking next. “Who would win a fight between a lion and a tiger?”
Jake’s head snaps around, mouth opening halfway. “What.”
“Practice.” James glances automatically outside, but it’s just the two of them in here. He and Jake never argue where the others can see; it’d be bad for morale. In private, however… “Sparring. You lot never spar. Ever. I bet you know half a dozen weaknesses of Rachel’s grizzly, Marco’s gorilla, all of them, but you never use that information.”
“They’re my team.” Jake’s indignation still hasn’t exactly disappeared. “I’m not going to fight them.”
“The best way to keep them alive is to give them the chance to practice.” James twists around to look at Jake where they’re both perched on the edge of a dryer.
“I don’t even know if that would work,” Jake says slowly. “Or if we’d all end up killing each other by mistake.”
“Yeah, me neither.” James raises his eyebrows. “So we try it. You and me. We start slow, we do our best to fight as close to for-real as we can without actually killing each other, and we see how it goes.”
“You’re nuts.”
“You have to know things about how I fight that I don’t know myself,” James presses. “I’ve seen how much attention you pay to the rest of us during the battles. So use that stuff. Tell it to me. Bash it into my head until I can figure out a way around my own weaknesses.”
Jake considers for several more seconds, and then he holds out his hand. “All right. You and me, that meadow south of where Ax lives, Friday afternoon if the mission’s over by then. Gonna kick your butt.”
Solemnly, James shakes his hand.
As it turns out, James kicks Jake’s butt. The first time, that is. The next three times Jake wins, and then they gang up together against Rachel and Ax. They don’t have time for practice, not really, and yet they all pretty quickly understand the necessity of making time. James finds that Craig needs to keep tighter control of his morph, that Elena needs to have less control of hers. Tobias teaches them all how to sneak up on Ax, and they apply the technique to getting around Visser Three. It’s boring and exhausting when being an Animorph is already boring and exhausting, as Marco points out, but it’s damn useful too. Only Rachel really seems to like the drills, but then Rachel will take any excuse to get big and scary in order to work off some frustration.
Jake learns that there are three types of fights with James: the almost-fun ones where they morph and bash each other around until they’re both too tired to be afraid anymore, the not-at-all fun ones where they have whispered arguments about what’s best for their team and usually both admit they don’t really know, and the even-worse ones when they’re back-to-back against entire armies of controllers but determined to be the last to retreat. Co-leadership is not easy. It’s better than going it alone, to be sure, but they both love their weird found family and they both want to keep their friends alive — no matter the cost to themselves or each other.
And then, immediately after the meeting with Arbron and Tom’s yeerk that changes everything, Jake discovers a whole new type of fight with James: the kind that hurts like nothing has ever hurt him before. The kind where James calls him a cold-hearted bastard in one breath and a naive little boy in the next. The kind where Jake finds himself simply ordering James to shut up and listen. The kind where James tells Jake outright that he will go out there and will tell their team that Jake has lost his mind over this situation with his family. The kind where they’re shaking with rage, fists clenched, eyes blurred with tears, as they shout at each other like children on a playground.
In the end, they both lose. In the end, Tobias interrupts, voice curling at the edges with the force of his disgust. In the end, they come to an awful sort of compromise as Eva looks on with crossed arms and the kind of disapproval only a world-weary parent can muster.
The resultant plan isn’t airtight. Tom’s yeerk figures out the double-cross a little early and shoots Tobias, who barely demorphs in time. They end up in battle morphs in a pitched free-for-all on the Pool ship, and only don’t get slaughtered because Marco thinks to free the trapped hosts in the hull and hand them all dracon beams. They all get shot, get hurt. Liam gets killed, along with half a dozen hosts. The Blade ship takes off during the distraction Erek hands to the yeerks on a silver platter, and when it crashes, it kills everyone on board. (Rachel must have done something, they decide later, although they never know for sure.) After, Marco turns a full-powered dracon beam on Erek and continues firing until there’s nothing left but scorch marks on the floor of the Pool ship.
Anyway, they win. Kind of.
“James,” the woman says, shoving to the front of the media-heavy crowd around the Animorphs on the Washington Mall. “James, it’s me!” She has dark-blond hair and brown eyes, his same round nose and narrow mouth.
Later, Jake will be so proud of his team for the way they unhesitatingly close ranks around James the moment his expression stiffens. The whole lot of them — Collette riding in gorilla-Marco’s arms, Kelly sitting on the edge of a retaining wall like a queen on her throne, Cassie crying silently and without shame — circle between James and the rest of the world. They are buffalo forming a wall of spikes around an injured member when the predators close in.
“I’m sorry, have we met before?” James is clearly lying, it’s written all over his face, but he remains firm.
<All right, and here come the vultures!> Marco says loudly. <Is there any security in this joint, or am I gonna have to get rid of her myself?>
“If you won’t remove her, I’ll do it.” Kelly sneers. “With as much force as necessary.”
“James, James, I’m your mother—”
“Are you?” His tone remains polite, but only just. “I wouldn’t recognize my mother even if you were her, so I have no way of knowing the truth of that statement.”
Of course she manages to secure her assertion several weeks later, with a birth certificate and a DNA test. Of course she’s the same woman from the photograph on James’s bedside table and the voice that calls once a year on his birthday. James knew that already. But by then it’s a moot point, because the cameras caught that whole exchange. Soon the interviewers know his whole story, including all the parts he refuses to sugar-coat or simplify.
The media becomes its own problem; James knew that would happen too. Collette and Timmy will smile and grit their teeth through reporters calling them “an inspiration” or telling them how much they exceed expectations. Kelly, not so much. She’s more liable to lean across the table and make pointed responses about how Marco doesn’t get asked about “overcoming” anything to do with his body, or how it’s cute they think she should morph permanently into a nondisabled body because it’s an awfully handy way for them to avoid having to examine their own shitty society and its shitty behavior as the real source of most of her obstacles. James himself is somewhere in between, willing to be gentle when someone describes him as “cured” by morphing but also unwilling to let that kind of comment slide.
But it almost feels worth it, every time he gets another letter from another kid somewhere in the world (cystic fibrosis, fibromyalgia, Ehlers-Danlos, cerebral palsy) telling him: you show those people. You give them no quarter. You resist their boxes shaped like I’m-only-concerned. You show them what we’re made of. Oh, and by the way? Thanks.
