Chapter 1

I'd heard stories of how my grandmother had saved the world, day and night. Mom told me most stories, but sometimes Gramma Max would, herself. I'd grown up with these stories, and I believe every word of them. She and I were alike, we had wings. Gramma Max's look like her hair—she insists on continually dying it to make her look younger. But our families are the only ones who know the real reason why; to make it look more like her wings.

My mom, Rowan, has dirty blond hair too, but it's starting to blend more brown. Her wings are speckled like Gramma Max's, but are a slightly darker shade. She has the same pattern and texture, but her wing-arch is more like Grandpa Fang's. Mom also has Grandpa Fang's facial features, but instead has Gramma's chocolate brown eyes. In fact, they are the same eyes as her brother, Nixon, a.k.a. my Uncle Nick. He has dark brown hair that's almost black, and has Max's facial features. He stands at six-foot two, while my mother is five-foot ten. Uncle Nick's wings are a lot like Grandpa Fang's. They have the similar arch, texture, pattern, and color.

My mother married a kind, red-headed man named Sam. He accepted her, wings and all, and they had a happy life together; then I came along. I'm five-foot eight and have my mother's chocolate brown eyes. With my dad's red hair and my mom's dirty blond, I got strawberry blond hair. It's lighter at the top and gets darker on its way down. The length is barely below my shoulder blades. To add a nice touch, I dyed my tips brown, so my hair could blend more. It goes from reddish-blond to a nice red color, and then is blended with a chestnut-brown. My wings are like my hair; they are a reddish-brown with a rust coloring at the ends. I like my wings, they create who I am and allow me to be me. Being Trixa Ride is the best thing in my life. I don't take my dad's last name, Dean, because I like being more like my grandmother, Maximum Ride. Grandpa Fang doesn't have a last name, so they went by "Ride." I choose to go after my mom's name, and so does she. It's who we are, and who we were meant to be.

"Hurry Trixa, you're going to be late!" I heard my mom yell from downstairs. "You already missed the bus!"

Who cares if I miss the Friday morning bus, I can get to school just as fast. "Coming!" I shouted back to her, as I grabbed my windbreaker and thrust it over my wings. I stopped by a mirror and noticed how bulky it really looked. "Great," I said to myself, "I look like a pregnant elephant." Then I went downstairs, grabbed my lunch, gave mom a quick hug and kiss, and as I was barely out the door, I heard

"Eh-hem, don't I get one of those."

I turned around gave my dad a hug so fast that I wouldn't even call it a "hug." Then I sprinted down hill, and walked toward school with the rest of the Saffron High students.

As I walked along, joining the crowd, I saw someone in front of me with a particularly bulgy windbreaker jacket on. I crept closer until I was a few paces behind him. Then I saw a feather fall from his jacket. I ran forward, grabbed his shoulder, and slammed us into a deserted alley-way.

"Hey!" He yelled, "What was that for?"

"Take off your jacket." I commanded.

"Why?"

"Just do it," I threatened.

"Okay," He said cautiously, "as long as you don't freak."

"I won't, I won't," I said impatiently.

Then he took of his jacket; as it came off, I saw a pair of strong, feathery wings. I gasped loudly.

"You-you-you've got them too, I thought I was…" I didn't finish my sentence because I was already taking off my jacket. My wings came out and nearly made his eyes pop out of their sockets.

"You-you-you're like me," He stepped closer and examined my wings, as I looked at his. They were a tannish-brown with dark speckles, a lot like his hair, which was light brown and swept messily to the side.

"I'm Garrett," he said.

"Trixa."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not alone," he finally declared. Then he looked at his wrist watch, "Looks like, I'm going to be late on my first day of school," he said as he walked out of the alley. "Plus, I'm starting a month later than everyone else."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Do you happen to know where Saffron High school is?"

"Well," I said, linking my arm through his, "It looks like you've got a personal guide."