Read Chameleon for Free Online Page A

all.”
    “What’s an über –whatsit?”
    “It’s an idea this philosopher Nietzsche had, about a new race of man who would transcend common man.”
    “Sounds right up Geneses’ alley.” A chill ran along my spine, stiffening the hairs on the back of my neck as I remembered Helmann’s speech on the video.
    Will scowled. “Yeah, pretty much. Among other things, the übermensch holds himself apart from common ideas of morality.”
    “Uh, yeah, I kind of got that when the knives started flying.”
    Will grunted a single laugh.
    “Where do you get all this … stuff, you know, Shakespeare and Nietzsche and all?” I asked.
    Will’s face flushed. “There was this year after Mom died when Mick was supposed to be homeschooling me—I refused to go to school—only her idea of homeschool was to let me read anything I wanted and listen while I spouted over dinner.”
    “Wow.”
    “Yeah. Actually I don’t know if she really listened—I’m the history–geek in the family—but she didn’t make me shut up.”
    I struggled to recall a quote I’d heard my dad repeat. “Those who don’t remember history … are … screwed. Right?”
    Will laughed. “Close enough. So let’s check out our ill–gotten gains, huh?”
    The book in my hands felt smooth, the leather worn by many years of handling. “It’s older than the other one,” I said, holding it up for Will’s inspection.
    “You want to take this to your home and try translating?” he asked.
    “Absolutely,” I replied. “But what do we tell your sister about this book?”
    Will pulled one hand through his tangle of curls. “I’m thinking she doesn’t need to know about this at the moment. I mean, we don’t even know what’s inside yet, right? We can always tell her later, if it turns out to be important.”
    I swallowed, relieved. I didn’t want to recount our evening’s activities to Will’s paranoid sister. “Do you think we’re in any increased danger? Now that Ivanovich knows we both ripple?”
    Will shrugged. “He seemed to think we were sent by Helmann.” His mouth curved upward. “And trust me—you looked nothing like yourself with that disguise. Seriously, you looked like an alien being.”
    “Shut up,” I said. But I laughed.
    “Anyway,” said Will, his face sobering, “We’ve got one more weapon in our arsenal. I bet Sir Walter will be very glad to see this book, whatever it contains.”
    We said goodnight. Driving the short mile to my home, I felt my heart thrumming with the memory of Will’s hand touching mine. Why couldn’t he see how right we were together? I ran the back of my sleeve across wet eyes. Within the bright tunnel of my head beams, tiny snowflakes drifted and spun.
    ***
    Thanksgiving came and passed, I studied for finals, and the day arrived for our flight to France. During the intervening weeks since we’d stolen Helga’s book, as we came to call it, there’d been no sign that she knew of the theft. Certainly, she hadn’t sent anyone to Las Abs to come looking for her book. Word traveled fast if a new face showed up in our town, and we hadn’t heard anything.
    Still, Will and I breathed easier once we put Las Abuelitas and Merced behind us on our flight day. Our plane left from San Francisco, a non–stop to Paris/Charles de Gaulle airport. I had the window seat, Will sat in the middle, and Mickie had the aisle.
    “In case I have to step into chaperone–mode early,” she said.
    Every now and again I heard Gwyn’s low pitched belly–laugh above the hum of airplane passengers. I missed hanging out with her, missed her laughter. She’d avoided making eye contact during the entire three hours our group spent in SFO. With only twenty–four students, this trip would make it harder for us to ignore one another.
    In any case, I felt blissfully happy to be sitting by Will for the eleven hour flight. Not that we could talk about any of the things we ached to discuss: what would Sir Walter be like, in the