Maximum ride 4: The Final Warning, Chapter 6, preview... SPOILER WARNING, if you haven't read all of the other books!!!

At first i was like, who's "Mom"?! then i remembered... oh, yeah! Dr. Martinez! :D
am i the only one who thinks that capitol should be spelled capital?
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I hate the cover of The Final Warning. i really really hope that that's not the real one or something! i mean, where's the MR logo at!? the M and R with wings?!

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http://www.parade.com/features/james-patterson-excerpt.html

Maximum Ride: The Final Warning
Chapter 6
You’ve all seen the Capitol Building in Washington, DC, like on postcards, right? It’s the big white one with the dome on top that isn’t the White House. Anyway, it’s gigundo. We drove up in our black limousine, feeling like celebrities. Inside we were led through a series of hallways and stairs until we were in a large conference room with a great view of some gardens.
In the conference room, about twenty people sat around a big wooden table. Some of the people were in military uniforms. Everyone sat up and turned to stare at us when we came in, surrounded by Secret Service guards. I didn’t even know I wanted to hold someone’s hand until Mom laced her fingers in mine and gave a squeeze. Suddenly it all seemed better.
“Welcome. Thank you for coming.” A tall man in an olive-green uniform came forward and solemnly shook Jeb’s hand, then Mom’s, then all of us kids. “Please sit down. Would you care for something to drink? We have coffee, tea, soda, ice water . . . oh, and I see you brought your dog. A cute little Scotty.” He smiled uncertainly, as if wondering why someone had let an animal into the building. I bit my lip, wondering if Total was going to mouth off. But he didn’t, just seethed quietly and hopped up onto his own chair by Angel.
The next hour was like, “This is your life, mutant birdkids!” They didn’t have any pictures or film of us when we were little and still living in dog crates at the School. But the last six months were decently documented. They had films of us flying, way overhead, and footage of various fights with people, Erasers, and the latest heinous incarnation of enemies, the Flyboys. There was some footage of us just chilling, at Anne Walker’s house in Northern Virginia. It made me tense up and get mad all over again.
Last, there were about three minutes of choppy, grainy film that had been shot inside of Itex’s picturesque German headquarters. It showed me squaring off against Omega, poster boy for pathetic losers. It showed the riot that some of the clones started, and the angry crowds of kids outside, breaking through the castle wall.
It showed Ari dying.
The film stopped and the dimmed lights rose. Shades lifted automatically, revealing the large picture windows again.
Now I was in a totally rotten mood. It was bad enough that I was all dressed up like some fashion geek, but I’d managed to not think about Ari for about five minutes, and then I had to watch him die all over again. I snuck a glance at Jeb, who was white-faced, his hands clenched tightly around a pencil as he stared at the table.
“You six are most impressive.” A woman in a tailored gray skirt-suit stood up and poured herself a glass of water. She smiled at us all, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“We’ve asked you to come here today because we’re very interested in your future,” said an older man. “We—the American government, that is--didn’t know of your existence until quite recently. Now that we know, we want to protect you and also explore whether we can useful to each other.”
They were certainly putting their cards on the table. Usually there’s a lot of mumbo jumbo about how special and unique we are, etc., but what they’re always really getting at is: can we make you do what we want you to?
So far the answer had always been, “Nope!”
The man paused, looking at us one by one, as if waiting for a response. He got none.
“One way we could be useful to you would be for us to create a school, a place where you could live safely.” A younger blond woman turned to us but aimed her words at Jeb and my mom. Like they made decisions for us or something. “You’re very gifted at survival, but there are significant gaps in your education. We could fill in those gaps, help you realize your full potentials.”
Again there was a pause, while the government people waited for us to jump up and down with excitement over the idea of going to school. School, was, of course, an unfortunate word choice on their part.
“To what end?” My voice was clear, no wavering.“Excuse me?” The young woman looked at me.“What would you guys get out of it?” I asked. “Besides the sheer joy of helping us fulfill our potentials.”
“We would get to study you, frankly,” said a tall, lean man who, I kid you not, looked just like Bill Nye, the Science Guy. “You’re like nothing we’ve ever seen before. The idea that human children can actually fly is mind-blowing. While you’re at the school, we could study you, understand the physical changes that enable you to fly.”
“To what end?” I asked again. “So that you can make more of us?”
The man looked genuinely surprised. “No,” he said. “Just to—understand.”
I decided I liked him. Too bad he was one of Them.“Okay, say you get to study us,” I said agreeably. “Somehow you get us to agree that it wouldn’t be a complete nightmare for us to be hooked up to sensors while we run on treadmills, or hold our own in wind tunnels while you film us flying. Then what?”
Silence.