"Oh my gosh," I mutter, sitting up on the branch of my most recent tree house.

Of course, it isn't much of a tree house, so much as a tree I live in. For now, anyway. They're always after me. The Erasers, the horrible, disturbing, ugly mishaps the School used to do their dirty work. I clench my fists, the bark peeling from the branch. The scar on my arm tightens, making me wince.

Duh, I think, nobody fixed it up.

Or you didn't let anyone fix it up, my smart, sensible side thinks.

Shut up, sensible side.

I roll my eyes at myself, climbing up the tree and unfurling my gray-and-white twelve-foot wings. Call me a mutant. Call me Avian-American. I don't give a crap. I have wings. I fly. Oh, joy!

I lunge into the air, flapping my wings a few times before zipping off through the early Wyoming air. Adrenaline pumps its way into my veins, giving me enough energy to quicken my speed. In about 45 minutes, I pass the Wyoming-Colorado border. I grin at the evergreens below me, pitying them all for being trapped on the ground. I see some geese, and I wave at them. They spaz and fly away, a few losing altitude before fighting their way back to their position in the goose triangle. I remember in a book I read that they do that for a reason—something that has to do with the wind—but I can't recall it. Ah, well.

I see a nice, first-class-looking jet and wave at its passengers. Of course, they're all adults, so none are staring out the window. But… wait. There's someone. A woman, with wavy black hair. She catches my eye, her own widening. I grin, continuing to wave. She waves back. I take my chances and fly close to the window. "Hello!" I call, mouthing the words as clearly as I can.

I can read lips, so I see her say, Hello, where did you get your wings? Are you friends with Maximum, my daughter?

What kind of a name is Maximum? "I don't know a Maximum!"

She lives back to the east! Just go east from here; you'll meet the flock!

The flock? Of what, parrots? Dogs? Cats? Fish? I'm not very educated. As I get ready to respond, the jet is already far ahead. Looking back, I could've caught up, but I decided not to.

I roll my eyes, using my built-in compass to find my way east. With an exaggerated boom, I'm flying at speeds over 400 miles-per-hour. I see a house in the distance, on the edge of a cliff, shaped like an E. I slow down and descend, plopping down on its porch with a thud.

"Hello? Anyone here? Anyone at all?" I call, kicking open the locked door with ease.

A guy appears, tensing at the sight of me. I had folded my wings, so I look like a normal person with windblown hair.

"Who are you? How did you get the door open?" I notice then he's in only a towel, and that's wrapped around his waist.

"I don't like your questions. Can I pass?" I say, walking past him as if I live here, in the house I've never seen before.

"No. Answer them. NOW," he says. I feel his dark eyes on my back, watching my every move.

I examine the couch. "Fine. Whatever. I'm Vanessa. I kicked it."

"You… what? You kicked it? I can't even kick it open!" he races out the door, closing it behind him. In a minute, I hear his foot bang against the door. He keeps it up for a few minutes before walking back in, key in hand.

"Ooh, real smooth, keeping a key under the doormat or wherever. If I had known about that, I wouldn't have a foot that isn't sore," I comment, at the sight of the guy rubbing his foot.

"How…" he shakes his head, "I'm Fang."

I laugh. "How do you like having a dog name?"

His mouth opens, then his hands form fists and he lunges at me. In less than a second, I'm at the other side of the room.

"Gonna have to be faster than that," I chirp, then I jump across the room and land on his shoulders.

"Oh! Hello! How'd you get underneath me?" I tease, leaping off him and onto the coffee table.

He tries to play the impossible game of Try-To-Catch-Vanessa, and—like all the others—he fails. Fang ends up with his butt in the sink, furious with all my insults.

"My grandma fights better than you, and she's dead!" I laugh, unfurling my wings a bit.

Fang's eyes widen, and he chokes out, "You're like us!"

I raise an eyebrow. "Like you? No, no, no. I fight much better than you."

"I meant the wings." He unfurls his own set of black wings.

"I've seen kids morph into insects that are as big as a gnat. I'm not impressed. Maybe I could give you some gills?" I muse, grabbing a kitchen knife and twirling it around.

"I have gills! I swear!" Fang says, and he sounds completely sincere.

I sigh, setting the knife on the counter. "I don't trust you, but I won't kill you, either."

"Thanks."

Just then, more people burst in, laughing.

"Dylan, I can't believe you just said what I think you said!" A girl's voice says.

"Well, you'd better, because I really did say it," A guy's voice, smooth as honey, replies.

"Everyone, take what's yours to your room. Dylan, take these," there's a sound of paper bags, "to the kitchen and put them on the counter. Jeb'll put them away." Another girl's voice says. Hers sounds older, a bit rough, too.

A few 'Okays' follow that, then a guy walks into the kitchen. He has ({[A/N= right here, I had to run around my house looking for the book Fang, then I had to open a new Safari window to look it up when I couldn't find the book. Just sayin'.]}) dark blonde hair, and eyes the color of the Caribbean. He's taller than Fang, and more muscular, too. His eyes get huge when he sees me, but he doesn't drop the brown paper bags.

"Hmm. You know, you should really get reusable bags for shopping. It saves trees." I comment, brushing past him to meet the other new people.

Dylan's P.O.V.

When I first see the girl in the kitchen, the only thought in my mind is, Oh my God, who is this girl? In a moment, my mind actually slips from Max, shifting to a new girl. But who is she?

"Vanessa. Her name is Vanessa," Fang mumbles, pushing himself up from the sink.

I resist a chuckle. "I presume she told you before she kicked your ass?"

"STFU, freak."

We suddenly hear a quick shriek in the next room, probably from Max. I set the bags on the counter, next to a knife Fang probably tried to use to defend himself with. I dive into the other room, where Iggy and Nudge are holding Max back, the new girl in front of them.

The girl reaches her finger forward, poking Max's forehead. Then she screams, "POKE OF DOOM!" and collapses in a fit of laughter. Everyone else laughs, too, even me. Well, everyone but Max, anyway. Max is writhing around in Nudge and Iggy's grip, trying to escape. She looks ready to claw the new girl—Vanessa's—throat out. I trot over and take Max's arms, and Nudge and Iggy let go. Max struggles to get away, but I pull some handcuffs from a nearby drawer—don't ask—and cuff her to the doorknob. She jiggles it and tries to pick the lock, but the two lock-pickers in the house are watching Vanessa laugh. She gives up and stares at the girl in disdain.

"I bet you're an Eraser. We know they're making girls now." Max has had this temper since Fang left then came back a year later.

"They've been making girl Erasers for the past 13 years, as far as I know. 'Course, I did have the inside scoop. Everyone knew that Garrett liked me best." Vanessa says, picking herself up and facing Max.

"Well, I haven't been in a cage for over 2 years. I wouldn't know," she returns, but Vanessa isn't fazed. She just walks into the kitchen. We hear the door of the fridge open, then we hear a quick, unexpected question.

"Got any Dr Pepper?"

I'm beginning to think that you can't be programmed to love.

A/N= Sorry for those who are addicted to Max, but I don't like her. That's why she has a temper. This is what I see in her. Anyway, Vanessa is the only one I own. Nobody else.

PS= I like Dylan better than Fang!