I suddenly got that saying about teenagers being misunderstood.

My flock had been my rock—stable. Now, I don't know. Max had kept us moving, and Angel had kept us sane. Now Max was doubting herself, and Angel was growing up to be just as confused as the rest of us. As Iggy and I were relatively the same age, we were getting closer—that is, until Gazzy started missing his pyromaniac partner-in-crime. Then Iggy had to break it to Gaz—he's rather talk with me about girls than build bomb with him. Broke the little man's heart, if you ask me, so now he's depressed, and hanging on Max, not that Max can handle that right now. That leaves Iggy feeling guilty and therefore avoiding all of us. Angel and Nudge were getting along great, except of course when their random fights about NOTHING burst out. I would NEVER understand girls. And Max . . . well, she would never admit it, but there's some definite chemistry between us.

Sometimes I thank the non-existent gods that I'm a boy in moments when it's good to be simple-minded—in focus, not intelligence, of course. Just getting into FIGHT! FLY! EAT! LOOK, GIRL! mode is exactly what I need to get away from the complications in my life. Of which there are a lot. Which brings me back to Max. We're both fifteen, and best friends. That is, until my hormones mess everything up. Damn those things!

Anyway, some people wonder why I wear black. It's actually not very complicated. White makes me sick. Ex: Whitecoats, white rooms, white hallways, white snarling Eraser teeth, and therefore everything white. Enough said? Black also used to make me feel strong. I hated that I used to be small. For a bird-kid, at least. Once we got out of the School, it also made shopping a lot easier. It's just kind of a habit, now. I would just as comfortably wear blue or something because I got over my everything-but-black phobia. Actually, I recently picked out a navy-blue shirt, and the entire flock stopped and stared as I brought it up the cashier. Even Max looked shocked. Geez, talk about putting somebody into a box of expectation, eh?

Like I said; misunderstood. Of course I've never worn the shirt since I got it. It's not like I don't need to, I just care about the flock's opinion of me. They're the only ones I've ever cared about . . . anyway.

I'm at least six feet tall, now (probably way more, I don't know), and taller than Max. Yeah! (She used to make me feel small) I could never hope to beat Iggy height wise, but hey, I'm still stronger. If you're wondering when I have time to do all this deep thinking, don't worry—it's not on watch. I would NEVER let my mind wander during watch. (It's kind of Zen, actually.) I guess you could say it's one of my redeeming qualities. CONSTANT VILIGANCE!

Anyway, we're actually on our way to Dr. M's. (Max calls her mom, but I never could. I trust her and all, it would just be weird.) We figured it would be nice to be normal for a while and get an education, so when this world-saving business ends, we'll have been prepared to have semi-normal lives. Or at least get real jobs. When Itex does catch up with us, at least we'll have had a normal experience for a while, anyway. Plus, ever since we'd gone kinda public, educators from all over have all over us to go to school. We thought we'd need a parent like Dr. M to get us in (hence the plan) but of course we were "an exception, and welcome any time" to any school because of our "exceptional situation".

Yet still, we went along with the original plan despite the latter information, as Max couldn't resist homemade cookies, along with seeing her family. So off we went to our new life—to the first time we would be able to go to school as a flock. I hope seeing normal kids will bring the flock together in our . . . well . . . uniqueness. I hate the feeling that my rock is shattering to pieces. And yes, I do have feelings. Just because I wear black doesn't mean I don't feel, contrary to popular belief. Didn't I already explain the whole black thing, anyway?

Jeez.

Dialogue and more plot later, this is just a preview thing. Review, please? If you do, I might put in a shirtless Fang in the next chapter . . . the choice is yours . . .