I have decided that I write waaaay to many shuffle challenges thingies. So, I am now writing an official story. Oh, Clementine, what have you gotten yourself into. I like writing long authors notes. It makes me feel special. But nobody likes reading them. So, I'll just skip and do the disclaimer.

Disclaimer: If you changed the "C" to a "J" and the "L" to an "A" (hey that rhymed! I'm a poet and I never even knew it. Well that blew it. Hey, I rhymed again!), and got rid of the first "E" and changed the "N" to an "S" and took away the "tine", then my name would be James, and then I might own the series. But it's not, so I don't.

"Maaaax!" Nudge screamed from downstairs. Putting my hands over my ears, I flew downstairs. Oh, did you think I meant "ran down there as fast as hell?" No. I meant literally flew. Did I mention I have wings? Well, I did now.

"What is it, Nud-" I started, then stopped. It wasn't Nudge standing down there. It was Iggy, the blind pyro, and Gazzy, the Gasman. Both were cracking up. I sighed. "Gazzy," I groaned, "It was only funny the first time." Gazzy is good at mimicry. Very good at mimicry. It's one of his powers. He could mimic anything, and it wasn't unlikely to see me beating up Fang or Iggy for something Gazzy said.

Oh, look. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. And Fang, by all means, could be the devil. A black devil. He dressed in all black, all the time. Like, one time, I saw him wearing navy blue, and I almost passed out from shock. Fang also never talked, and if he was laughing, it was safe to assume that either the apocalypse was coming, or Fang was sick. Very, very, very sick. However he smirked. A lot. It was absolutely infuriating. He nodded at me. Nodded. Not even a "hey" or a "yo" or even a "Oh my god, Iggy's trying to light Gazzy's farts on fire while cooking flambe!" Ok, the last one is a bit far-fetched but it happened once…I'll spare you the details. Anyway, behind Fang was Nudge, the little chatterbox, Angel, and Ella, my half-sister. Let me tell you something. Angel may be named Angel, but she is a freaking demonic child.

"What does demonic mean, Max?" she asked me. What a coincidence she would ask me that right as I was thinking it, right? WRONG! Angel is a mind reader. Creepy six-year-old child. Of course, this presented a bit of a problem, especially when Angel delved in the perverted ocean that was Iggy's mind. For example, last week we were at the beach. Yes, I said beach. We don't go to the beach much, because if we did people would see our wings, but we were visiting my mom, Dr. Valencia Martinez, and my dad, Jeb, who knew about a small beach only a few people knew existed. And by a few, I mean about 200. I, awesome as I am, was helping Angel build a sand castle while keeping an eye on Gazzy and Nudge playing in the sand and watching Fang's sexy abs out of the corner of my eye. God, I hope Angel didn't hear that. Anyway, Fang was describing what the girls on the beach looked like. And they were rating them. Sexist pigs.

Suddenly, Angel looked up and asked me, "What's second base?"

Shocked, I replied, "Ya know. The second base…in baseball."

"So, Iggy wants to play baseball with that girl over there?" Angel questioned, pointing to a girl in the tiniest polka dotted bikini I had ever seen.

"Uh, yeah," I answered. "Hey, I'll be right back. I'm gonna go…talk to Iggy."

So, as you can see, Iggy is a perverted, hormonal, teenage boy who's not very good at censoring his thoughts.

My train of thought was suddenly interrupted by my traitorous, no-good, rotten, cheating, sister. What, you ask, did she do to deserve this title? The worst thing ever, of course! She said five words that ruined my life.

"Let's have a slumber party!"

This is my first multichapter story! w00t! So, please review. If you review, you'll get a kiss from Fang…or Iggy…your pick!

Fang: No.

Iggy: Ooh, yeah baby! Gimme some sugar.

Clementine: Iggy?

Iggy: Yeah?

Clementine: No. Just no.

Iggy: *Sticks out tongue*