Summary: Max and Fang, caught in a forbidden romance. Something taboo in nature, and something that they can't help but defy. AU.


Chapter One: Jeb and Fang

I was sitting in the kitchen, talking to Mom and watching her make coffee and some hot chocolate for me.

"So, Max, hows Mr. Keenans doing these days?" she asked, turning around with a stirring stick in her cup.

"I heard his cancer is in recession now, but I don't really know since I don't have him anymore," I told her.

My mom has always been really attentive and stuff—she always knows whats going on in my life, school, friends, etc. Most teenagers, they hate their parents, but I really couldn't find a reason to dislike my mom. She always knows how to set reasonable limits, and I suppose I'm not really a bad kid anyway.

Okay. Wrong. So, I'm sort of a troublemaker. In kindergarten I was pretty much sorta kinda basically a bully.. to everyone. And that sort of lasted.. all the way up until... seventh grade? Which isn't saying much, cause that was just three years ago, but I swear I've changed! I'm a completely different person now. Cough. Anywho..

Whenever I got into trouble, my mom would always take it in stride. She was just cool like that.

She turned around and handed me a mug of hot chocolate with a smile on her face. I grinned back cheekily. My mom was Valencia Martinez, animal vet extraodinaire, mom extraodinaire. And I was Maximum Ride, daughter of her and my dad, Jebediah Ride.

Except the smile on her face was only plastered on for only my benefit. She was really nervous inside, a complete wreck, actually.

Today.. today was the day Jeb was coming home from his trip..

Now, don't get me wrong, I completely love my mom and all, but I hate that my dad.. and thats the trouble with things, because hes got such a strong pull over her. I won't listen to Jeb until my mom urges me to.. thats all I'm saying. You can't blame me for disliking him.. he's just sort of overbearing.

And sure, my mom knows a lot about my life and all (which trust me, is a very large task to bear if your daughter is a teenager), but shes pleasant about it. Jeb will just try to control things, like imposing his own stupid moral values unto me (or lack thereof?), forcing me to take classes I don't want to, and etcetera because the list goes on. He always thinks hes got a better plan for me, but the truth is that he just wants to be in charge of things. I'm pretty sure I know better as to whats better for me at this point in life, wouldn't you say?

Anyway, thats besides the point. Well, sorta. Not really.

Let's go back to the beginning: The first reason any kid could have to hate it's parent: Jeb, for one, cheated on my mom when I was barely old enough to be considered a kid. Now thats saying something, isn't it?

Which brings me back to the reason my mom is such a nervous wreck right now. I feel for her, I really do, but to be completely honest, its because I don't really care.

So some kid is gonna live with us for now. Big whoop. Who the h, e, double hockey sticks, gives a birdspit? Wow, talk about an incredibly bad pun, eh? (I've been trying to lay low on the cursing ever since my baby cousin Angel came by and started spitting out cusses that she'd heard on the street like no tomorrow).

Anyway.. so that brings me back to how great my mum is. Why is she a nervous wreck? Because shes scared that the kid won't like her. See? Thats how incredibly, insanely, awesome, funtastically great is. Next to the fact that her chocolate chip cookies are like, the best.

Unless the kid is like, a total moody, angsty, unopen bitch, theres no reason not to like her. Seriously, I can't find a single flaw in my mom and thats a major feat to find.

So about that trip. Like I said before, Jeb cheated on my mom when I was barely a baby. He was some big-time lab professor/experimental research scientist guy or somecrap that I couldn't care less about. Anywho, he used to go on long trips often before he settled down for a desk job (for the sake of this family? Whoo-hoo, whatever, I think I'd be happier if he wasn't here). So he went to like, Oregon or Massachussets or some dumb suburban state that I don't care about, and he pooped out a kid.

Okay, so I've never won a prize for eloquency..

Basically, he slept with some hoochie—okay, nevermind, I'm really bad at this—he slept with some woman, and she got preggers. Okay. She got pregnant. She had a kid.

Then Jeb realized how much of a fuck up he is and came back to mom and begged and all that stuff. See, if it were up to me, I wouldn't take him back, he cheated on her while she was pregnant. I mean, seriously?! Unfortunately, at that time, I had no say in the matter since I was only 6 months old.

And I guess I can understand what Mom was thinking when she took him back—after all, she was alone, single, and with a really young baby. And I dunno.. I guess things seem dandy on her part, considering, as far as we know, Jeb hasn't yet effed up again.

Ah well. So much for that non-cursing thing.

Anyhow. So, the woman that he screwed 17 years ago (or so), got married, and had a life. Jeb sends her checks and stuff, and even went to visit the kid once, when he was like 1 or something. I guess he was a happy kid, since apparently they lived in a large suburban house, and he was the only kid. So, when his mom married, she didn't have any other kids with this new guy, so I'm guessing he didn't have to compete with any children in his lifetime, being an illegitimate child or anything.

See thats whats my mom is worried about—that this kid will think she won't accept him.

This is what I mean. Isn't my mom, like some sort of saint or something? I swear, she's like a god-given gift from an Angel or something. I can totally expect her to sprout wings and fly away someday soon, cause I completelydon't deserve her. Anyway, enough of the mushy gushy stuff.

So apparently this kid's parents were in a car crash two and a half weeks ago. They both died.

I really should be saying that more respectfully, shouldn't I? Eh. Well, too bad. Don't know them, don't care about them. Story of life. People come, people die, and there we go. I'm the type of person who will fight to survive. Thats all I'm saying.

So yeah.. now he's coming to live with us.. because apparently, he has to. Its not like my dad has any custody rights over him, but its just apparently.. like that. I heard his mother's husband had technically adopted him as his own child, but for some reason, the judge at the hearing ruled Jeb the most suitable legal guardian for his benefit.

Don't get me wrong though.. Jeb is a great person, as much as I may hate him.

Its just me actually, who hates him. Maybe its the teenage hormones, cause my younger sister Ella is perfectly fine with him. He's like.. like, super dad, to her. But I guess that doesn't really make sense, considering she's 14--she must have some of those teenage angst hormones in her too. But she's generally a light, bubbly, happy character and personality, sort of like my mom. I sighed inwardly as I realized that I'm alot more like Jeb than I'd wish.

The funny thing is that I look like him. I hear thats a genetic, evolutionary adaptive trait or something—the first born child usually looks like the father so that it doesn't get abandoned, or so my biology teacher says. (Well, too late for that, he didn't wait until I was born to abandon).

Okay. So, as you can see, I'm still quite a bit bitter about that, although that'd be an overall petty thing to be bitter about. Its not just this; in case you haven't noticed, I take every single opportunity to throw something at Jeb and apply it as an excuse to keep a grudge against him.

Yeah. So. I really don't like him. What else is new?

So.. back to the whole 'jeb-is-a-great-person' thing. Well, sure, he's a fine person I guess. Everyone is allowed their mess-ups and stuff, but the reason I dislike him is like, totally way beyond that. It goes into the spectrum of his entire nature. So, obviously, I'm not doing very well at describing how much of a good-guy is. I think my hate convolutes all that into what an assjerkfuck he is. Whoops. Gotta go the low-down on all that cursing..

So yeah. He's a good person, he really is. In fact, he's won an insane bunch of these awards on how smart he is and developments in stem cell research and saving the world and blahblahblah who cares, yakno? Anyhow, I guess I have to thank him though. I hear intelligence is genetic, and things come pretty quick to me. I guess I'm a pretty smart kid, I guess. I don't really try in school, things just come to me. Obvious things are usually just sitting there, and other people have such trouble figuring things out.. when they just, yaknow, click in my head, so easily. Maybe its photographic memory, maybe its not, but its pretty damn cool to be the freaking know it all chick at school sometimes.

It helps when you're in a tight spot, on the hot seat at the principals office, for beating up some gross guy. It sort of helps with the come backs. I say, you just spit out, leave them dumbfounded, and then sneak away, real quietly. Meh, it usually works for me.. just sayin'.

So.. Jeb gladly took custody of this kid.. I forget what his name is. Thomas? Josh? I dunno?

And its okay.. cause our family is pretty well off. From what I hear about his, its probably not as impressive as his surburban demigod house or whatever, but we're pretty cool and well off for a bunch of kids living on the outskirts of LA. Mom and Jeb were the charity type parents anyway. And what a perfect opportunity to earn brownie points from God when you can just take in an orphaned kid, who just happens to be one of your little devilur spawns? Cough.

So yeah.. Jeb went to the court hearing, got custody of him, and now.. he's bringing him home. In fact, todays the day he should be back with him.

So my mom is a complete nervous wreck, and shes practically cleaned through the house about a bazillion times. I had to convince her to sit down and let me make her some coffee, but then she jumped up and didn't let me near the coffee maker. (I'm pretty horrendous in the kitchen. Heh, what can I say? Its a talent). So now, she's sitting here in front of me, across the counter, smiling at me with such fakeness plastered all over cause secretly, inside, shes going in insane-freaking-out mode.

If she were the type to do it, her feet would be tapping irritatedly and anxiously on the tiled kitchen floor. Luckily for me, she's not. Even luckier for Ella, she isn't even home tonight to deal with all of this—she's sleeping over at her friends house for an all-nighter school project.

So I'm sitting here on a stool, across the counter from my mad-looking mom, trying to figure out a way to soothe her nerves and calm her down.

"Mom. Relax. It's just a dumb boy," I said to her punctually. She threw me a second-long glare at my tone, and language, and my manner of speech, but then immediately continued to silently freak out inside.

"Maximum, his parents died, both of them," she said urgently to me, as if stressing that out would make me care more.

Okay, so I guess it sucks to have your parents die, both of them, on the same night, suddenly be left with in a giganto house all alone and then have to move to half the complete opposite side of the continent to live with some dude you've got half of your genetics from but haven't met since you were one.

I guess, maybe, just perhaps. But its only so awful because its Jeb, he has to live with.. ah, I already do pity myself.

But the point I'm trying to make here, is that I don't care, I mean seriously, whats the big deal? And hows it going to affect me?

It was early July, and the patio doors were completely open, the cool summer air sending a chill over my skin, which is why it was the perfect opportunity to take out the hot chocolate I never got to eat during the summertime. I love chocolate. I was sipping it quietly while observing my mother buzz around the kitchen aimlessly (her cooking was already done)—I mean seriously, why do we need an elaborate dinner just to impress some kid who probably doesn't care either?

Absentmindedly, I wondered if he would care. Maybe he was one of those uptight snobs with collared shirts and ties who uses fish and salad forks and knew weird stuff teenagers aren't supposed to know? Like the type to give lectures at the dinner table about biogenetics or on unbiased views on current-day politics and speak like an essay. Ugh, god, I thought, just imagining it. Jeb would just friggin love that. My thoughts went off on a tangent as I wonder if he would look like me too. Ella looks like my mom's exact photocopy, but except for her eyes, I don't look anything like her. I looked like Jeb, and I wondered if this kid would too.

But overall, the general conclusion in my mind, was that it was just pretty pointless. I mean, two more years, and I'll be off to college and he'll be off the college too, so big whoop?

Besides.. who cares, its just some kid.

And his parents died. He'll probably just be introverted and distant from our family anyway. It wouldn't be hard, it'll be just be like having a very respectful, polite, house guest. I'm pretty sure a 17 or 16-year-old boy doesn't have the audacity exactly to intrude into someone else's family's home life. And how well exactly can you assimilate into another completely foreign, utterly unrelated (by unstatistical standards), family setting at that point in your life?

Aha. Impossible. See, exactly, there we go. It won't be a nuisance at all.. like I said, just an elaborate house guest. Jeb will try hard to get him to open up, but obviously it won't work, cause Jeb sucks and sucks at everything he does—from his efforts to his intentions—and the kid will just go back to being whoever he wants to be until he turns 18 and gets the house and the money and move back to Oregan or Massachusetts or Michigan or Alabama or whereever it is that he's from.

And then, suddenly, the doorbell rang. My mom slipped the kitchen mittens off quickly, frantically looking doing nothing and freaking out a bit more audibly now. Observing her amusedly, I took one last slow slip of hot chocolate before I left the hot mug on the counter and casually walked to the door, talking my sweet, sweet, slow time. Mom was too nervous and wreck-ish to have those simple things on her mind, such as.. letting them in. Ah, gotta love my mom, sweet, innocent, thing she is.

I turned the doorknob open and was faced with a half hug from my dad. He was tall, tall looming over me, and I barely reached his chin.

"Hi Max, I've missed you," he said with a tired voice. He must be jet-lagged, I realized, next to that long drive with a rented car he needed to take. My voice muffled within his light beige jacket, I replied.

"Yeah, I missed you too dad, did you have a nice trip?" I recited the customaries as I inwardly blanched on the inside, already superlatively bored, and immediately wondering why I care.

"Sure, honey," he replied, taking off his shoes and socks at the door, letting go of me.

I watched him bend over in front of me. With my hands behind me back and leaning over a bit, I waited for him to finish in order to put his shoes away on the rack.

He was a slob like that; he didn't know how to keep the house clean or anything. And he thought he was special enough to just leave his stuff at the door. We always had to clean up after him.. hang his jacket up on the coat rack, put his umbrella in the catch, move his shoes to the side, put his shirt into the laundry. It was pretty goddamned irritating. And I wouldn't stand to make him sandwiches anymore, I mean, dear god, make your own freaking sandwiches, why don't you?

Taking off his shoes and socks, he stepped into the living room and I followed him, the upstairs staircase directly to our left. I stood there waiting for him as he arched his neck around while another person stepped into the house as well. The kid was looking down, not even bothering to look up or check out the house he would be living in. He had behind him a vertical suitcase with wheels, and he was clutching onto the handle as he walked in, the small suitcase trailing behind him on wheels. He slid his pupils agitatedly to the side as my mom walked in.

"Max, Valencia, this is Fang," Jeb introduced, much like a car salesmen.

Well. That certainly astounded me.

"Fang?" I repeated impolitely, refusing to believe it. Mentally, I asked Jeb if he noticed something wrong with that picture and sentence, most notably the term of reference to that noun.

Jeb threw me a stern glare.

"Yes, Fang," he repeated sternly, admonishing the word in front.

I had the incredible urge to ask him if a fruit bat had bit his mother's butt when she was giving birth, but decided that it'd be a bit tasteless, given the current situation. Trust me though, I had to restrain myself with all of my valiant, courageous, heroic efforts, despite that the said mother had died three weeks ago.

He finally looked up from the floor to look at me soon after I had spit out [this supposed name of his] incredulously. He threw me an unprecedented deadly glare from the side of the doorway as I stood there beside Jeb, with my arms crossed and my weight resting on one leg.

I looked him up and down once he had finally brought his head up. A glare like the one he had been sending me was a look to kill, and anyone would've been shuddering underneath that scrutinizing gaze, except me. I ignored it as I assessed him. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothes, and pale olive skin.

My eyes narrowed and I watched him watch my upper lip visibly lift in disgust.

Oh great, now I had to live with a freaking goth.

Haha, I wrote this in the middle of the night, completely off my rocking chair.

I might continue this, hopefully, depending on the instinct.

Please review, and hopefully there'll be more =)