Author's Note: I do not own Maximum Ride. I just really, really, really, really, really love the stories. I was inspired by the contest from James Patterson to write a chapter of what really happened when Max taught Dylan how to fly. This is my alternate version. Enjoy! And when you're done, reviews and comments are always, ALWAYS welcome! :)

Honestly, I didn't like it. I mean, leave me alone with the bane of my existence? My life is perfect now, thank you very much! I don't need some "other half" trying to flirt with me! And my so-called family just decided to leave me alone with him to teach him how to fly! Who knew how long that would take?

I think Fang was trying to be funny. What a time to get an I'll-show-everyone sense of humor, Fang!

Anyway, there I was, with Dylan, a guy with awesome biceps, dreamy hair, and…ugh! What am I thinking? His hair isn't that dreamy! He's, like, some super model. Fang is a god! Beat that!

"So the first thing we're going to do," I told him when everyone had gracefully landed inside our wonderful house (picked out by me!), "is push you off the roof." Ha ha! Boy, did I enjoy that look on his face! If only I'd had a camera, I would have taken a picture and hung it up on my wall to guffaw at whenever some evil scientist was trying to ruin my life.

I think he actually tried to reply to that. I didn't let him. There was no time for talking back to Maximum Ride, aka me! I used all my grace to fly up to the roof, letting him grasp my ankle for a free ride up. That was the only free-anything he was ever going to get from me.

Oh, the joy of flight! If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times (and what's up with that metaphor, anyway? It makes absolutely no sense!), but I just adore flying! It's like a way of separating yourself from all your problems and just concentrating on the wind flying between your feathers. Sorry, normies, but all you get are planes and scrap metal. It's one of the only good things about being a cross between human and bird.

Once we were up there, Dylan's first instinct was to get to the center. You know, I think it had something to do with me saying I'd push him off the roof. Huh. I'd have to store that one away for future mad scientists vs the flock banter. Anyway, I took a step forward him, trying to entice him like a dog. "Here, Dylan. Here boy!" Okay, so I didn't say exactly that. It was more like, "Get your wings over here right now if you want my help." But, you get the basic idea.

Dylan came over hesitantly. Then there was this light in his eyes. "You have the most beautiful complexion in this light."

I looked around. It was nighttime. "Yeah. What light? I think your suffering from some kind of moon madness or something. Anyway, flying is simple for all of us genetically made teens. First, you open your wings like this. Then, when you can feel the air all around you starting to fall, you flap down as hard as you can. Not that big 'Oh my gosh, I'm so manly' kind of flap. It's graceful. Sometimes, less is more." At that moment, an owl lazily floated toward us. "See Hooty over there?" (Don't you just love my petnames?). "He's just letting the wind guide his wings. He isn't overexerting himself. He isn't trying to show off," I glared at Dylan with one of my it-isn't-going-to-help-you stares, "He's living with the air." I looked down at the roof. There was a pretty big breeze tonight. You could practically hear it whistling through. Not too good for a first flight day, but I wasn't going to hold off 'till tomorrow.

"Watch me," I said as I jumped off the roof. I waited until the last possible second to snap my wings open. I tilted my feathers diagonally downwards, picking an updraft that took me above the roof. I slowly pulled my wings up and down, up and down, until I was hovering in one spot in front of Dylan.

Actually, I hate the word "hover". It's impossible to "hover". Nothing in this world can "hover". Hovering means staying still in air. What kind of bird has ever just floated? They all have to use some sort of movement, making them shift in place no matter what. Even airplanes and helicopters have their motors!

Anyway, I was hovering over Dylan. He looked at me, then at the path I had just flown. His lips were pursed. Cute. I think he was nervous. I looped around the roof, getting to the other side. There's this little door-cube thing that leads to the roof via stairs in the house. That's what we use when our wings our tired. I hid behind it. When Dylan continued to look down, I snuck up behind him. Boy, was I going to enjoy this!

I crept behind them, holding back giggle-fits (I have chronic giggle-itus. Fang says its because I need to release my stress in a healthy, not punching way), then pushed Dylan with all my might. Would you believe that he actually started flapping his arms before he remembered that he had wings?

Right before he went kersplat I jumped off the roof behind him. It would look really bad if Angel or Nudge or anyone found a Dylan pancake tomorrow. He released his wings, tipping the way I had. What a good little observer! But then, before I could see what was happening, he disappeared. If I hadn't gone after him, I could have just said that he had run off or something. But instead, before I could tilt back up, I was engulfed in whatever had gotten Dylan. I would say it was a wormhole, but it was more like a huge hurricane! I couldn't tell up from down from sideways, and as part bird, that never happens. To say the least, it was very disconcerting.

Then it stopped. Very suddenly. And everything was quiet. For me, quiet is not good. Quiet means ambush, or mad scientist, or kidnapped bird kids.

In this case, quiet meant ambush.

I immediately went into Terminator mode and started kicking and punching. I couldn't get a good look at exactly what I was kicking and punching, but they sure looked like Erasers. Not that that was possible, since Jeb was now supposedly aligning himself with the good guys. Dylan was beside me, fighting with all his might. He wasn't too shabby, either, not that I would ever say that to his face.

Then there was a blinding flash of light, and all the Erasers disappeared. I wish I could tell you more, but everything was so disconcerting. If you had asked me then, I would have thought my feet were where my hands are! All I know is that when I could see again, Fang was standing in front of me.

Please review! I don't know when I can update again, but the more reviews the faster I'll be. Pinky swear!