Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, believe it or not.
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Max's face was set in a scowl as she shoved her way through the overwhelming crowd of teenagers, all eager to leave the hated building. After a year of this she should be used to the crushing amount of people crammed into the hallway, but she never did manage to defeat the claustrophobia, and could never quite eliminate the urge to smash out the nearest window and leap into fresh air. To spread her wings and fly … not actually fly, of course. She meant that in a symbolic way - what wings? Flying? Yeah, as if.
Max's face relaxed slightly and her head was filled with enlightenment. It was times like these that she was grateful her genetics had blessed her with such an inventive brain. She raised her history file and textbook and used them as a sort of battering ram, forging a path through the noisy throng. Whoever knew that notes and diagrams on Ancient Egypt could actually be practically useful in today's society? A grin split her face as the outraged cries of her peers reached her ears. Apparently they didn't enjoy being hit with her history work.
Panting slightly, her grin fading, she reached her locker. She stuck her tongue between her teeth and twisted the dial of her plain metal lock around. 9 … 31 … 15, and with a sharp, satisfying snap, she tugged the lock down and it sprung open. She removed the lock, using it to assist in opening her locker. Grimacing slightly at the horrible chaos that was the inside of her plain blue locker, she threw her history work in on top of the mess and dragged out her schoolbag. She cursed as one of her numerous key rings got stuck in the locker door, and tugged on her navy schoolbag harder. Suddenly, the key ring broke, and she stumbled backwards slightly, earning glares from the students that she managed to bump into. She muttered an apology, and moved back to her locker to inspect the damage to her ornament. She closed her bright blue eyes as she realised that her favourite figure, a fierce black hawk, was damaged beyond repair, with one of its proud, elegant wings ripped off. Now in a foul mood, she dragged out her maths file, shoving it in her bag, remembering the homework she had been assigned that morning.
Swinging her bag violently over her shoulder, she shouldered her way through the remains of the flow of students. As she walked out the double doors and into the subdued sunshine, she raised her face to the sky, with the few visible patches of blue, the rest obscured by clouds. A memory flashed through her mind – five pairs of wings, white, black and speckled, stretching out next to her, the feeling of the wind rushing through her hair and … feathers?
Max shook her head to clear it of the fanciful images. She'd been dreaming of this scene a lot, and those five other kids, whose faces she could never quite picture. Although she could see their wings, moving powerfully through the air, and could feel her own, downbeats timing perfectly with her companions'. She'd tried to dismiss these images as dreams, as longings of her subconscious, because who doesn't want to be able to soar through the clouds like that? But the visions remained, dream or not, and the sensations were so real, so lifelike, that she would wake at night, confused between dream and reality.
"Max!" Max was jolted from her musings as a voice shouted at her. The owner of the voice was jogging up to her, cheeks slightly flushed from the physical exertion, and bag hanging off one shoulder. Said girl spoke again, "Max …" she panted, "I've been calling your name for ages! Didn't you hear me?"
Max's mouth tugged up in one corner, only half a smile for her red haired friend. "No … sorry. I was thinking."
The redhead raised a thin eyebrow. "Always a dangerous pastime for the infamous Maxine Williams. What about?"
Max's golden eyebrows pulled downwards in a slight frown. "Just stuff. You're too nosy for your own good, Lissa."
Lissa grinned happily. "Yeah, I know. But what are friends for, huh?"
Max was silent, choosing instead to glare at her friend. Then she noticed the lack of people at the usually crowded bus stop. "Oh, shit – Sam, can you tell him to wait?" she shouted to the boy stepping onto the bus, which was readying itself to pull away from the curb about 25 metres away from Max. "See you, Lis," she called over her shoulder, already running for the bus. Lissa nodded, and raised a hand in farewell. Max was a pretty fast runner – she had the build for it, tall and athletically slim. She relished the feel of the wind in her hair as she ran.
And then she was falling. She shot through white, wispy clouds, unable to concentrate on anything much but the agonising pain gripping her skull. Somehow, in a small corner of her mind which wasn't buckling under the extreme pressure of the poisonous hurt, she knew that this wasn't real – the clouds, the unbelievable height that she was dropping from. How the hell could she have gotten up here? But the pain was real. How could something so bad not be real? Her head was filled with a splitting pain, as if someone was cutting through her skull with a chainsaw, inch by inch, and she opened her mouth to scream, but the sound was torn away by a fierce wind. Then she felt warm, strong arms wrap around her, holding her tight. Black wings flared out, and there was a jolt as her seemingly endless downwards spiral was halted. With only echoes of the terrible pain left, she sank into darkness, the last thing she remembered being the face of a boy, with chocolate brown eyes that were dark with fear and wild dark hair falling into his face in disarray.
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A/N- No, really, this is actually going somewhere, for anyone who reads this. I tried to … to do something different, but ended up just … losing it, a little? ((sighs)) Um, it all makes sense to me, and if it doesn't to anyone else … well … all will be revealed?
And Max's eyes. Someone said that they were brown, but … but I can't really imagine her with brown eyes. I always get a clear sky blue. Odd, perhaps, but that's the way things are for me.